Why Locals In Indiana Love Pork Tenderloin Sandwiches

America is full of sandwich-loving states, though many of them are fiercely divided over which particular sandwich ranks as their most emblematic. Is New York, for example, best represented by the kind of pastrami on rye found at NYC institution Katz's Deli, or a bold young contender like the chopped cheese? Indiana, on the other hand, enjoys a rare consensus, and most locals agree that the unofficial sandwich of the Midwestern state is their beloved fried pork tenderloin.

If your conception of a sandwich is one in which the bread acts as a border for the filling, saying "this far and no further," an Indiana-style breaded pork tenderloin sandwich — sometimes known by the abbreviation BPT — will seriously realign your thinking. This is a sandwich where the filling seems to mock any bread foolish enough to try to contain it, with the tenderloin itself often defiantly spilling beyond its confines.

As if the appeal wasn't self-explanatory, plenty of Indiana locals will be happy to wax poetic about why they love the BPT so much and debate where the best examples are found. On the r/Indiana subreddit, one thread begins with the contention that "Breaded Pork Tenderloin sammiches are one of the best things about the Hoosier State!" Elsewhere on Reddit, BPT novices can find advice on how to eat the sandwich from other Redditors, one of whom suggests: "the proper technique for eating a pork tenderloin sandwich is eat the part sticking out of the bun for dinner, and save what's inside the bun for lunch tomorrow." Somewhat less seriously, another user commented that it would be necessary to unhinge your jaw "so as to engulf the sandwich entirely. Then go back to your cave to digest over the next week."

Across the Hoosier State, you will encounter myriad versions of this sandwich (though some are firm that the breaded pork tenderloin should never be served with cheese). Typically, however, pork loin is sliced thinly and/or butterflied, before being beaten very thin, tenderized, and marinated. Some recipes call for a brine, which may include buttermilk, pickle juice (a secret weapon in many recipes), salt, sugar, or some combination thereof.

After the meat is prepped, much as one might do when preparing chicken parmesan, the pork is coated in a mixture of egg and milk, dredged in flour, and covered in breading before being fried (some favor seasoning the pork or breading with herbs like oregano and marjoram,  though BPT purists believe this is unnecessary). Depending on what Indiana sandwich spot you arrive at or what recipe you consult, the breading can be anything from simple breadcrumbs to cornflakes, potato chips, or saltine cracker crumbs. Whichever way it's coated, the fried tenderloin should emerge crispy and golden brown, with a devastatingly juicy interior, encased within a comically small bun — hopefully sturdy enough to hold it all together in your hand until the last behemothic bite of this classic comfort food is consumed.

One notable variation of the BPT that's found at numerous Indiana eateries — such as the Steer-In, a Midwest restaurant Guy Fieri loves – is a spicy take on the tenderloin. For those making one at home, this could be achieved either by adding a spice like cayenne pepper to the flour before dredging or simply garnishing the sandwich with your favorite hot sauce.   

Many agree that the likeliest point of origin for the Indiana-style BPT can be traced to Nick's Kitchen, a diner in the city of Huntington. In 1904, Nick Freienstein (for whom the restaurant was named) began catering to hungry Huntingtonians from a cart selling a variety of burgers and sandwiches, one of which took inspiration from traditional Wiener schnitzel. The Austrian-born dish of thin, breaded, pan-fried veal was popular in Germany, from whence Freienstein's father had emigrated in the 19th century.

Due to veal's limited availability, Freienstein swapped it for pork, and the result was so successful that it helped him set up shop in 1908 in the permanent location that is still going gangbusters. Today, the breaded pork tenderloin on the Nick's Kitchen menu comes with lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, and mayo, plus a side of french fries, all served up for an affordable $10 (though a "mini" version is available for $2 less). It isn't just the price that brings in the customers from far and wide — as one reviewer put it simply on Yelp, "best breaded tenderloin in the state."

You won't be short of other options, though. The most iconic sandwich in every state is something to be celebrated, and the website of the Indiana Foodways Alliance — a non-profit organization that promotes Indiana's best eateries — does just that. The site features the Tenderloin Lovers Trail, an attempt to list all the places across the state where you can find superlative examples of Indiana's favorite sandwich. Any traveler foolhardy enough to think they can hit every spot listed should be warned — in its entirety, the trail (subdivided into North, South, and Central) comprises more than 90 restaurants, so even the most dedicated fried pork fanatic undertaking this feat might eventually find themselves hankering for a salad.