Houston's Best Sandwiches: The Hangover at Antone's

Yes, that is a pool of syrup underneath the beautiful mess that is the Antone's Hangover.
Photo by Jeff Balke
Yes, that is a pool of syrup underneath the beautiful mess that is the Antone's Hangover.
We are in search of Houston's best sandwiches because we love sandwiches and we love Houston!

Normally, I would never recommend eating a sandwich with a fork. It would be like telling someone to gently cut their pizza with a knife and fork. It's not done. One of the sandwich's great benefits is the ability to hold it while eating. No plates. No utensils. Perfection.

But, the latest in the line of monthly celebrity subs from Antone's (various locations) may have me writing an addendum to my sandwich eating rules. The Hangover, a concoction of Houston Texans linebacker Whitney Mercilus, is an absolute nightmare to eat. You'll need napkins, wet wipes and probably a water hose by the time you are done, but make no mistake, you will finish because this is perhaps the greatest breakfast sandwich this world has ever known.

I just kept thinking while staring at it that it looked like something you would do at 3 a.m. at House of Pies. You order scrambled eggs (with cheese on the side), bacon and French toast. Then you stack it all up on your plate, cover it in syrup and ask the waitress to bring you a little powdered sugar for good measure. If that doesn't stave off your hangover (or cause you to rethink drinking forever the next morning), I'm not sure what will.

This thing is NOT good for you. It turns your hands into a greasy, syrupy mess. But, dear lord, it is exquisite.

I was skeptical of the scrambled eggs. Most cool menu items like this, if they come with eggs at all, offer fried only, so that gooey yolk runs out. But, goo is not a problem here. It has goo for days, weeks even. So, scrambled eggs are honest to God perfect in the middle of toasted brioche (you heard me!) with a slice of melted smoked gouda on top. And, seriously, bacon, huge, thick strips of it clinging to the lid of this bad boy like Mercilus to a quarterback.

I thought for sure they would fall off. Nope. Stuck to the brioche with syrup. Unreal.

The closest comparison I could come up with was a Monte Cristo but not fried. Still, the Monte is more like a fried club sandwich and this is decidedly breakfast. It's that sweetness that makes them kindred souls.

But, look, you really do need a fork, unless you eat this over the sink or near a trough of soapy water. It's a freaking mess and you will be too by the time you're done. So, in this instance you have permission to be dainty. Or do like I did and shove your face right in there. It took a stack of napkins and a warm towel to get me clean afterward, but by God, it was worth it.

If you have a sandwich you think is one of the best in town, hit us up. We're always looking for new options.