
Chef Dean
Bacon Egg and Cheese on a Roll
The iconic New York bodega breakfast: shattering-crisp bacon, a golden-yolked fried egg, and molten American cheese tucked into a soft kaiser roll. This is the sandwich that built a city.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by
Los Angeles' gift to the sandwich world: tender slices of roast beef piled onto crusty French rolls, served with a bowl of rich, beefy jus for dipping that transforms each bite into something transcendent.
This sandwich has nothing to do with France. It was born in downtown Los Angeles, sometime around 1918, in a cramped kitchen where a cook named Philippe Mathieu supposedly dropped a sliced French roll into the drippings of a roasting pan. The customer loved it. The French Dip was born.
Cole's Pacific Electric Buffet, just blocks away, tells a different origin story. The truth doesn't matter much anymore. What matters is the sandwich itself: thin-sliced beef, a roll with proper crust, and a little bowl of jus so saturated with beef essence that dunking becomes an act of devotion.
The home cook's advantage here is control. You roast your own beef, which means you capture every drop of those precious drippings. The jus you make will embarrass anything ladled from a steam table. And because you've done the work, you understand exactly why this simple sandwich has sustained a city for more than a century.
Quantity
3 pounds
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
2 teaspoons
Quantity
1 teaspoon
freshly ground
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 large
halved and thinly sliced
Quantity
4 cloves
smashed
Quantity
4 cups
Quantity
1 cup
Quantity
2 sprigs
Quantity
2
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
4
split
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
8 slices
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| beef top round or eye of round roast | 3 pounds |
| neutral oil | 2 tablespoons |
| kosher salt | 2 teaspoons |
| black pepperfreshly ground | 1 teaspoon |
| garlic powder | 1 teaspoon |
| onion powder | 1 teaspoon |
| dried thyme | 1/2 teaspoon |
| unsalted butter | 2 tablespoons |
| yellow onionhalved and thinly sliced | 1 large |
| garlicsmashed | 4 cloves |
| low-sodium beef broth | 4 cups |
| dry red wine | 1 cup |
| fresh thyme | 2 sprigs |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| Worcestershire sauce | 1 tablespoon |
| French rolls or hoagie rollssplit | 4 |
| softened butter for rolls | 2 tablespoons |
| provolone cheese (optional) | 8 slices |
Remove the roast from the refrigerator one hour before cooking. Pat it aggressively dry with paper towels. Combine the salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, and dried thyme in a small bowl. Rub the entire surface of the beef with oil, then season generously with the spice mixture. Press the seasoning into the meat. It should look like a bark waiting to happen.
Preheat your oven to 275°F. Heat a large Dutch oven or heavy roasting pan over high heat until nearly smoking. Add the beef and sear without moving until a deep brown crust forms, about four minutes per side. The sizzle should be aggressive. If it isn't, your pan wasn't hot enough. Lift the roast to a plate and reduce heat to medium.
Add butter to the pan drippings. When it foams, add the sliced onion and a pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions turn golden and soft, eight to ten minutes. They should pick up some of the fond from the bottom of the pan. Add the smashed garlic and cook one minute more until fragrant.
Pour in the red wine, scraping up every caramelized bit from the pan bottom. Let it bubble and reduce by half, about three minutes. Add the beef broth, fresh thyme sprigs, bay leaves, and Worcestershire sauce. Stir to combine. Return the seared roast to the pan, nestling it into the liquid. The liquid should come about one-third of the way up the meat.
Cover the pot and transfer to the oven. Roast until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part reads 130°F for medium-rare, about one and a half to two hours. Check at ninety minutes. The meat should feel like it's relaxing, giving way to gentle pressure.
Transfer the roast to a cutting board, tent loosely with foil, and let rest at least twenty minutes. Meanwhile, strain the braising liquid through a fine-mesh sieve into a saucepan, pressing on the onions to extract their flavor. Discard the solids. Skim any visible fat from the surface. Bring to a simmer and taste. Adjust salt if needed. The jus should be deeply beefy with a slight sweetness from the wine and onions.
Preheat your broiler. Split the French rolls and spread the cut sides with softened butter. Place on a baking sheet cut-side up. Broil until golden and slightly crisp at the edges, one to two minutes. Watch carefully. The line between toasted and burnt is measured in seconds.
Slice the rested roast as thin as your knife skills allow, against the grain. The slices should be translucent enough to read through. Pile them loosely on a plate. Don't compress the meat into tight stacks or you'll lose that tender quality.
If using cheese, lay two slices of provolone on the bottom half of each roll and run briefly under the broiler until melted. Pile the thin-sliced beef generously onto the bottom halves, mounding it rather than flattening. Close with the top half of the roll, pressing gently. Ladle the warm jus into small bowls for dipping. Serve immediately.
1 sandwich (about 360g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Dean
The iconic New York bodega breakfast: shattering-crisp bacon, a golden-yolked fried egg, and molten American cheese tucked into a soft kaiser roll. This is the sandwich that built a city.

Chef Dean
Buffalo's proudest sandwich: silky rare roast beef mounded on a crusty roll showered with caraway and coarse salt, the top dipped in warm jus, the whole thing demanding horseradish and a cold beer.

Chef Dean
Shatteringly crisp beer-battered halibut piled on a buttery bun with tangy homemade tartar sauce and crunchy coleslaw. This is the Pacific Northwest on a plate, the kind of sandwich worth driving to the coast for.

Chef Dean
A pork cutlet pounded thin as a playing card, coated in seasoned cracker crumbs, and fried until it sprawls gloriously past the edges of its bun. This is Indiana on a plate.