From bread pakora to pastrami—India’s sandwich glow-up is real

Chutney sandwiches or butter-jam slices in school tiffins are etched in India’s collective memory. But somewhere between the nostalgic soft-white bread and today’s trending stacked sourdoughs with pastrami and pickles, the sandwich has undergone a quiet revolution

Growing up in Mumbai, chutney sandwich served with wafers and a slice of cake at birthday parties was Riyaaz Amlani’s favourite. Chicken coleslaw sandwiches at the cinema and egg-and-mayo ones at home were the norm. At fancier spots, the crusts came off—because presentation mattered. By the 2010s, Amlani—now  restaurateur and CEO of Impresario Entertainment & Hospitality—opened Salt Water Cafe (2008, now shuttered) and Smoke House Deli (2011), both instrumental in introducing the concept of gourmet sandwiches in India. “But there was a lack of awareness among people, and sandwiches didn’t have as many takers,” says Amlani. 

Fifteen years on, things have shifted. “Five years ago, no one would have ordered the viral Korean bun. But today, a croissant filled with cold cuts and cheese like emmental is a thing of the past,” says Amlani, crediting Veronica’s in Mumbai for reigniting diners’ interest toward sandwiches. The Bandra-based eatery allowed other restaurants to take off in the same vein. For others, timing was less fortunate—Big Fat Sandwich, which opened in 2015, now has just one dine-in in Goa. Perhaps they set shop too soon. 

Now the well-travelled Indian is tired of pizzas and burgers, and seeking something fresher, healthier, more layered. Sandwiches—customisable, ingredient-led, and often gluten-free—fit neatly into that brief. 

Why gourmet sandwiches in India are the perfect customisable meal

Healthier options start with better ingredients—especially when they’re made from scratch. And few dishes offer as much room for innovation (or improvisation) as the sandwich.  

As home-cooking gained momentum in recent years, many Indians gravitated toward food that was simple yet satisfying. The sandwich emerged as a favourite: fuss-free, endlessly adaptable, and increasingly elevated. “People started baking their own bread, fermenting their own sauces, experimenting with Indian cheeses—the sandwich became a canvas for both creativity and comfort,” says Hussain Shahzad, Executive Chef, Hunger Inc. Hospitality (the team behind Veronica’s, Papa’s, The Bombay Canteen & O Pedro) in Mumbai.

“Indian cheesemakers are producing everything from creamy burratas and brie to aged cheddars and funky blues. In many ways, the gourmet sandwich boom is a natural outcome of a food culture that’s becoming more ingredient-conscious, experimental, and proud of what’s being made right here in India,” says Shahzad. It’s a realisation that led Diego Miranda—who grew up eating the Bombay grilled cheese and vada pav—to move beyond burgers and hot dogs. Alongside Alcino, who was selling sausages and salami within Bandra, Miranda launched Santa Maria, a 25-seater eatery specialising in sandwiches, in March 2024.  Their in-house curated deli meats are artisanally cured and smoked, turning familiar formats into inventive sandwiches. 

In Goa, Priyanka Sardessai started Larder & Folk in Panjim as a home kitchen four years ago, working with local producers like Three One Farms and Eleftheria Cheeses. Today, it’s known for its Roast Beef and Pollo Picante sandwiches—alongside unexpected delights like Hot Honey Doughnut.

“Meat and cheese imports have decreased, giving rise to the birth of homegrown brands, which are now making much better cheese and processing meats in better ways, whether it’s sausages or pastrami,” says Amlani. 

Nicolas Grossemy, founder, Paris Panini, agrees. “Mozzarella from brands like Melchior or Nari & Kage rival some of the imported stuff in freshness and taste,” he says. The gourmet sandwich movement isn’t just about premium cold cuts—it’s about building from scratch and crafting products that outdo international standards.

For Tushar Alagh, who opened Pete’s Deli in New Delhi in 2022 after over a decade cooking in New York, building from scratch was second nature. Raised in a household that was quarter Kashmiri (maternal grandmother), quarter Japanese (paternal grandmother) and half Punjabi, his early experiments included making butter chicken soba and fruit sushi. His father, Peter (the deli’s namesake), was known for making the fluffiest eggs—his first flavour inspiration. Later, a culinary science and business management degree in New York deepened Alagh’s technical approach. Marrying Mehma Bawa Alagh, the co-founder of Artisan Meats, gave him direct access to high-quality meat. “In India, good quality cold cuts were rarely manufactured in-house till about a decade ago,” says Alagh, who injects Indian meats like tenderloin or mutton which are more tough and chew-y, with brine to soften them before cooking them. He brines the pastrami for four days, smokes it for eight hours, roasts it for two hours, and steams it for two hours. A tedious process Alagh leaves for his weekends, yielding about 30-40 kilograms of pastrami. 

He sources small-batch cheese from Old Hill Cheese in Almora and Kumaoni Blessings—names you won’t find in premium stores like Nature’s Basket or Modern Bazaar yet. “Sure, apps and platforms like Blinkit and Meatzaa exist, but they offer quantity over quality by being cheaper and quicker to access. The idea is to grow together and start a community that offers fresh-quality ingredients, and takers for it,” says Alagh. 

How Indian deli culture is shaping the rise of gourmet sandwich shops

American delis never really found a foothold in India. “We’ve had European style eateries with hard breads, olives, and cold cuts, with Italian Caprese and cold French sandwiches,” says Alagh. “American delis are more coffee, chopped cheese, Hoagies with cheese, cubanos, and even Tortas, for which Pete’s uses Goan chorizo. Bacon, egg, and cheese is American.” In India, the American Diner format has leaned more towards all-day breakfasts—pancakes, eggs, and coffee—than  true deli culture.

Pete’s Deli bridges the gap between restaurant and grocery store. Ingredients are sold alongside made-to-order sandwiches. It’s about access, not just aesthetics. “The whole idea of a sandwich is to be able to customise it. Indians, too, have grown up eating sandwiches with tomato, cucumber or chutney. Sandwiches are versatile. You can put anything between [slices of] bread–aloo gobi too. Bread pakoda is a sandwich, but fried,” he says. 

Alagh’s approach is precise and personal. The meats he uses are well-done—not rare—the breads are softer, not crusty. The mustard that goes into the sandwiches blends kasundi and Dijon. Every tweak is a response to the Indian palate. What surprised him most? WhatsApp groups. “People are actually discussing the sandwiches and planning return visits [to Pete’s] for the full New York-style experience,” he says.

Why gourmet sandwiches in India are more than just a quick snack 

Customisation and the growing availability of homegrown ingredients have made sandwiches more economical—especially as opposed  to ordering multiple dishes to complete a meal, notes Amlani. “Sandwiches are also quick, fuss-free meals people can have using one hand while they browse their phone with the other,” he adds.

It’s a format that fits right into the hustle culture. While 70 per cent  of Pete’s orders are dine-in, around 15 per cent are still take-aways. “Sandwiches shouldn’t be plated. Seeing that hurts me a little,” laughs Alagh. 

But behind that grab-and-go appeal lies serious technique. “Sandwiches with slow-cooked, cured, and smoked deli meats take time and care. That’s why people are turning to sandwich shops: for convenience without compromising on craft,” adds Miranda. 

With better ingredients, inventive combinations, and thoughtful assembly, sandwiches are no longer meals to simply scarf down—they’re meant to be savoured. “Let's not ignore the visual appeal—stacked high, dripping with sauce, oozing cheese, or crunching just right. If it looks good on the ‘gram, chances are you want to eat it,” says Shahzad.  “Sandwiches are made for the internet—think cheese pulls, crunchy edges, juicy layers, and glossy sauces. In the age of Reels, a good sandwich is not just food, it’s content. One scroll-stopping bite can spark cravings, trends, and even queues outside a shop. It is comfort, creativity, and culture, all between two slices of bread.” 

At Veronica’s, Shahzad is the mind behind some of the most Instagrammed sandwiches in Mumbai currently: The Big Floyd (a Nashville-style fried chicken sandwich on Hokkaido-style milk bun with hot butter, tamarind ranch, lemony dill pickles, and herbs), Pass The Pastrami (charred pastrami with cucumber, dill pickle, and stone-ground mustard on milk bread), and Oh Shrimp! Po’ Boy (a New Orleans-inspired shrimp sandwich with flaming gochujang, avocado, jalapeños, and iceberg lettuce).

Are gourmet sandwiches in India considered a full meal? 

Sandwiches that come with more components than a bowl of pasta are no longer just breakfast fare. They’ve become go-to evening snacks and hearty lunches. “It’s not crawled its way into dinner yet as people prefer rolls at night. Though of course, there will always be people in India who think if they haven’t had rice or roti, then it’s not a meal,” says Amlani. 

That perception runs deep. When Alagh first mentioned he was opening a deli, he kept hearing, “Sandwich se pet thodi na bharta hai!” His response? “But if it has mayonnaise, veggies, meats, and bread, it’s a complete meal.” he  shrugs.

To bridge the gap, Alagh tweaked the experience. Most Indians are used to softer breads—like rotis, paos, and appams—so Pete’s Cubano isn’t toasted in the New York way. The bread stays pillowy. The meats, too, are cooked through.  iThe mustard is a mix of kasundi and Dijon, with a hint of pungency.

“In 2025, people eat with their eyes first, then their nose, then their phone, and then their mouth. That’s why I have just one small exhaust in his Hauz Khas outlet in New Delhi so that the cooking smells linger,” says Alagh, who has already revised the menu 17 times.  

Yet, some traditions remain firmly rooted. Sandwiches will never replace the comfort of Indian rice- or roti-based meals, notes Sardessai. But there’s a different kind of emotional weight they carry. “There is also something deeply familiar and nostalgic about sandwiches, whether it’s the streetside toastie or a homemade grilled cheese,” says Shahzad.

But nostalgia itself is a moving target—it changes with every generation. “The flavours that have become my comfort and fire up my dopamine—like club sandwiches with chicken and egg—won’t be the same for the new generations. Candies [in Mumbai] and Wenger's [in New Delhi] still have queues outside, proving there’s room for old-school fare,” says Amlani. Maybe, one day, gourmet sandwiches will be that for today’s Gen Z. 

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