12 Best Breads For Italian Sandwiches

An Italian sandwich is a safe bet for feeding roving hunger pangs. Because truly, the array of cured meats, tangy spreads, and herbs at our disposal abolishes any boredom with what to create them with. Assembling mouthwatering paninis or the absolute best Italian subs are an exercise in creativity, but any experimentation is useless without good bread to lock down its foundation.

Confronted with endless rows of vaguely-identical, oven-baked loaves, foodies browsing the bakery or supermarket might lose sight of what bread to look for. Grabbing whatever's nearest (and cheapest) is the typical motivation, but to ignore some objective features would do a disservice to your portable feast. According to Tony Gemignani — whose Toscano Brothers bakery slings artisanal wares in San Francisco's North Beach neighborhood — "a bread that is slightly crunchy on the outside and soft in the middle" is the ideal vessel: "The inside texture shouldn't be too dense and it should have some structure," he adds.

Chowhound interviewed celebrated dining spots — Tony Gemignani, owner of Toscano Brothers; Diego Puddu, the culinary director for Eataly; and Tommaso Mazzanti, CEO of All'Antico Vinaio — to gather intel on the best breads for Italian sandwiches. Below, we have a little history to back up our choices, plus suggestions on what to fill them with and why they work. Without further ado, here's our baker's dozen.

It's an easy mistake to conflate pizza bianca with the whole pies served in Big Apple pizzerias. That's because in many ways, the two aren't so different from one another. "White pizzas" are a Roman specialty, and they're sauce-less flatbreads with a whole lot of air bubbles. Essentially, they're naked pizza crusts. Shockingly, pizza bianca was once a throwaway bread: bakers tossed these dough discs into ovens not to serve to diners, but to double-check that the appliance was set to a good temperature.

Alas, pizza bianca might not look like the heroes associated with sandwich shops around the United States. Still, they prove their worth as a sandwich vehicle, and all it takes it some first-hand sampling to understand why. Previous iterations featured sweeter garnishes (like figs), but into the present day, storefronts dotting the ancient city cram them generously with bright, piquant antipasto. At La Vita è un Mozzico (the Roman joint that slings Bobby Flay's beloved Italian sandwich), the bread is carved vertically into massive squares, bearing lots of surface area to plop on toppings. The bursting sandwich is then slapped onto a panini press to warm the fillings, helping the slices stick together between the paper wrapper.

When you eat focaccia at a restaurant, it's typically served before your pasta entree with olive oil on the side for rigorous dunking. Sometimes, there's baked pockets of cheese or jammy cherry tomatoes. But if you're going to take an expert's word, the bread's versatility truly allows for endless spins for sandwiches (in the toothsome Italian vein, naturally).

"I really love focaccia because it can be enjoyable both fresh or un-toasted," raves Diego Puddu, the culinary director for Eataly (a gourmet Italian retailer with locations worldwide spanning Milan, Rome, Tokyo, New York, and more). It's herb-y, salty, and oily: a trifecta that's favorable, without a doubt, to the full brunt of Italian charcuterie (including under-the-radar deli meats).

Puddu favors tender folds of prosciutto between slices of focaccia, and for preparation, he instructs crisping each of the slabs for your sandwich until they're sublimely toasted to golden. He adds this will bring out the phenomenal smell of the bread as well as the texture. So, assuming you prefer a toasted sandwich to cold, having the right appliance makes a world of difference for garnering the same deliciousness every time you use it. The Ninja Flip Toaster Oven & Air Fryer is one of the best toaster ovens money can buy.

Schiacciata, Tommaso Mazzanti waxes, "blends crunchiness on the outside and softness on the inside" — otherwise great characteristics for buttressing savory charcuterie meats and spreads. The bread is a Florentine gem, and it teems with heavy amounts of olive oil and salt, which naturally infuses an extra kick to the crispy quality. Extensive fermentation cultivates a texture that's bread-y but with a little snap, and while it apes the appearance of focaccia, this version is a little denser, and less cushion-y in feel than its counterpart. There's much-needed grip for hoisting those fillings, but with slight puffiness on its side, the bread resists growing soggy. 

Mazzanti's culinary empire, All'Antico Vinaio, is notorious for only using schiacciata bread. As such, the restauranteur is well-versed in arranging the fillings to its full potential. Of course, embracing authentic deli slices is the way to go to draw out a unique experience from your sandwich; the more flavorful, the better. Feel free to slap on the salty proteins — prosciutto or sliced mortadella earn Mazzanti's vote — and pair them along with a tangy smear (something vegetal, per Mazzanti) to show off the bread's eclectic crust. Schiacciata also thrives when it's served hot. As Mazzanti explains, the bread's dynamic flavor profile takes the components squished between to another delectable level.

If you frequently visit chains like Jimmy John's to get your Italian combo fix, recreating the vibe at home is a breeze with the proper bread. Try upping your homemade creations with sfilatino, the slim, rustic, and spear-shaped loaf often compared to a baguette. Sfilatino bread shines in most culinary applications with its guaranteed chewiness bite after bite.

When making an Italian sandwich with your own deli ingredients, it's tempting to take a sfilatino and load it up to the skies. We won't arbitrate what and how much you pile onto this unique loaf, but it might be wise to listen to sandwich experts emphasizing a simpler, minimalistic touch. "We make our baguettes with a combination of Prosciutto di Parma or Genoa salami, smoked provolone, extra virgin olive oil, salt, and pepper," says Tony Gemignani. While the garnishes in question apply to the standard wheat loaf Toscano Brothers uses, it's clear sfilatino would gel swimmingly with this formula, never mind any arrangement of charcuterie.

Ciabatta (or "slipper" in Italian) doesn't harbor the ancient past of other breads bordering the Mediterranean. In fact, it emerged as recently as 1982, when a disgruntled baker devised a novel new carb to stanch popularity of the French baguette, which were pouring out of Italian storefronts. Raw, the dough is sticky and moist, but in the oven, it bakes to a crispy golden finish, touting large perforations that lend some absorbency for mile-high toppings. No wonder, then, how so many restaurants swear by the bread's angelic properties for crafting impeccable handhelds.

Many creative uses for ciabatta bread devolve away from the deli lineup (stuffing and French toast would like to have a word), but if there's any avenue inviting creativity, look no further than the almighty sandwich. The spongy loaf is an excellent vessel for just about any Italian-inspired fillings, whether it's Genoa salami and Parma ham (Tony Gemignani's favored slices), or verdant strands of arugula and basil.

Ciabatta tastes heavenly toasted as well, according to Eataly's Diego Puddu, especially in a Pesto Caprese Panini, with the ingredients tucked inside melted to the bread. The Hamilton Beach Panini Press Sandwich Maker or Chefman Panini Press Grill and Gourmet Sandwich Maker would be wonderful investments for cooks who prefer their sandwiches rocking this explosive element.

Bread for a mouthwatering Italian sub, regardless of the type, calls for much-needed bulk. Slicing it lengthwise or in half shouldn't be a Herculean effort, but the starch shouldn't fall apart just from the pull of your knife. Enter filone (in Italian, "thread") as another building block towards the sandwich of your dreams. A signature bake within the Calabrian peninsula and Tuscan province, sources praise the loaf for its doughy consistency and rich, fermented aromas. The slightly pungent undercurrent in the taste aligns filone to sourdough, and while the comparison is apt, the latter's process demands more intense rises to agitate the yeast. That being said, offering a milder tang gives filone seamless range, with sandwiches amplifying the funkier additions of cured, zesty add-ons.

Having established filone as a fluffier bread, the starch's pliability makes a wonderful treat for sponging up sauces and dipping oils. But for sandwiches, the extra bulk could hamper efforts to fill out your bread with the works. One tip for optimizing your sandwich bread comes from Bay Area bakery Toscano Brothers, and it's a no-brainer for just about any bread on this list. "Scoop out the inside of the bread, which will allow it to hold more meats and cheeses," instructs Tony Gemignani.

For just a minute, let's break away from slender baguettes and explore a stylish alternative to jazz up the great Italian sandwich. Ever heard of ciriola? That's not a weird thing to ask, considering these days it's much harder to find a bakery that offers them. Once the daily bread of Rome, they resemble conch shells in shape and offer excellent portability thanks to the miniature size.

Much like other Italian breads, the ingredients call for nothing more than the basics of water, flour, and yeast with a starter to boost the mouthfeel and aroma. The crumb is chewy, but not at the expense of pulling apart the bread for a plush bite. In terms of sandwich possibilities, you'll find the slim dimensions call for something minimal in the center, which can be satisfying in its own right nonetheless. Tucking in meats and cheeses won't lead you astray: cured salami and soppressata for the savory, provolone cheese to imbue a creamy, buttery feel, and a shake of salt and pepper would do well here for a picnic-approved bite.

Looking at them side by side, Italy and France appear to overlap in key cultural ways. Linguistics come to mind (assuming you studied a romance language in school), but the two countries also demonstrate a direct match in bread-baking traditions, too. One of the best examples where the nations notably intertwine is in pane francese. This is a bread loaf that's basically the Italian version of French bread, and with a firmer crust, the exterior encases a soft, yeasty center.

Recipes involve quite a bit of labor, including numerous rises (up to 12 hours in some cases) to get a fresh batch kneaded, baked, and sliced for consumption. However, forming the loaves out of the raw dough is another story; the most this step demands of bakers is rolling out the strands and then waiting until they've risen enough to go into the oven. Besides the wait time, this is a bread that abandons the bells and whistles.

Pulling off a chunk to dip into a thick, cozy soup or spaghetti sauce is one of the baguette's many strong suits, but they're not slouch in sandwiches, either. Evidently, as a compliment to such dishes, the slabs provide an excellent foundation for portable specialties, and pane francese brings some crusty dimension to the table.

When it comes to a hearty Italian sandwich, the bread's crusty chew helps reign in the toppings you've carefully stacked layer by layer. Semolina bread embodies sturdiness and structure, and the loaves work nicely in a handheld like this for exactly the right reasons. It's made with durum wheat, which might sound familiar to anyone reading this for one reason: it is the same grain milled for semolina flour, and the identical substance utilized in producing shelf-stable pasta.

The initial purpose of mixing semolina into loaves, unsurprisingly, was to ensure wares (often churned out by hand, of course) wouldn't mold quickly. It makes sense, then that the grain's brawny composition has granted it heavy usage among bakers for centuries. Semolina's oblong shape is killer for showcasing Italian adornments, and splitting it down length-wise offers plenty of room for the array of salty, pickled flavors to roost.

Another bread you ought to sample in a summery handheld (preferably on a sandy beach or park bench) is puccia. Puccia was birthed in Puglia, an idyllic section in Southern Italy, and encompasses the classic elements of leavened goodness. The rolls have an interesting story, in that they descend from the Roman Empire but entered a renaissance of sorts in the latter half of the 20th century. Some sources credit a professional baker for cracking the bread's code, and it's a fact that's self-evident by the billowy, bubbling dough.

Due to the semolina flour, foodies can expect a nicely-browned crumb. But it's far from rough and crackly, as the bread's air pockets lend a texture that's soft and featherweight thanks to extra virgin olive oil and yeast. Hence, it's a grand formula for housing top-tier cold cuts, no? The pita-like shape aids in this effort, seeing as the traditional preparations lean heavily on grab-and-go recipes as a result of the bread's roomy pocket. The Pugliese handheld welcomes generous fillings, and local ingredients like cherry tomatoes, pesto, and blobs of creamy stracciatella cheese always fit the bill.

We know Naples for crowning Neapolitan pizza, so the largess of doughs from this popular destination doesn't come as much of a surprise. Pane cafone is like the Parker House dinner roll of Italy — a staple so common, its absence from the meal would be noted. Translating to "peasant bread," the Neapolitan loaf is a basic, imperfectly-artisan white bread with a softly chewy sensibility. Since its intended purpose is to pad out glitzier main courses in a dining setting, the yeasty choice is perfect for a wide range of uses, sandwiches among them.

Structure is an essential element to supporting moist toppings pronounced in Italian sandwiches, which pane cafone offers in spades. The dark crust offers heft, with an interior that's light, but by no means insubstantial, for sandwich-stacking. Venturing to an authentic delicatessen, one of these flour-dusted loaves is likely to materialize on the shelf, so grab one and see the possibilities that await.

Building an Italian sandwich can be utilitarian in nature — just slice, stack, and it's "bon appétit" before realizing you've assembled an entire meal right before your eyes. But with a roll this pretty, how can it not be an art akin to other provisions? Germanic and Italian cuisine collide in the michetta, also "little crumb" in Italian, and it's one of the snazzier options to host a cold cut combo. The bread is shaped like a flower, and a regular staple in Milan kitchens, though originating by way of Austrian conquest: the nation's bun, the Kaisersemmel, took off in the 18th century, where, to become more palatable to the native residents, underwent tweaks to give it heft and a harder outer shell.

Deviating from the spongier properties of the Austrian bread roll proved successful. The well-baked characteristics are a benefit to fully loading your roll, not just with shaved charcuterie but larger varieties of meat that won't seep through the bread. To take advantage of the roomier nooks, encase your rosetta with bigger proteins like beef meatballs or chunks of sausage — anything juicy with room for veggies and cheese to spare.