The Hill I Will Die On: A Bologna Sandwich Is the Best Beach Lunch

The hill I will die on bologna is one I will plant a flag on with sandy feet and a paper towel for a plate: the best sandwich at the beach is white bread, bologna, and American cheese with a little bit of mayo. That is the whole sandwich. Some mustard too is the only variation I will allow, and I will gladly die on this hill with my chair pointed at the water. Come on up. There is room.

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Let me tell you why this is not laziness, because I know what some of you are thinking. I am a food blogger. I make lasagna from scratch and I have opinions about ricotta. And I am telling you that on a beach day, a bologna sandwich on soft white bread is the correct food, and it is not a compromise. It is engineering. There is nothing on it to wilt. There is nothing to leak through the bread and into the bottom of the cooler. There is no lettuce to go slimy and no tomato to turn the bread to paste while it rides in a bag next to a bag of ice. You can eat it with one hand, with salt on your fingers, in the wind, while somebody yells at you about a jellyfish. Try that with a nice sandwich on ciabatta and tell me how it goes.

And I will be honest that part of this is pure 80’s childhood nostalgia, and I am not embarrassed about that either. This is the sandwich of my growing up. Somebody’s mama packed a loaf of white bread, a pack of bologna, a stack of American cheese, and a jar of mayo, and she assembled them right there on the towel with the wax paper as a cutting board. It tasted better at the beach than it ever tasted at home and I have never been able to explain why. Salt air, probably. That is my scientific position. These days I am the mama packing it, and I still put in a pan of monster cookies for after, because beach week is a splurge week around here and my crowd knows it.

Now here is where it gets fun, because I do not plant a flag without going looking for backup. Y’all remember that I have already tangled with the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council once, when they told me not to put ketchup on a hot dog after the age of 18. Well, guess who also publishes an official Guide to Bologna. The very same Council. And according to that guide, bologna falls under the USDA’s definition of cured, cooked sausages — which is the exact same federal category as the hot dog. American bologna is legally required to be finely ground with no visible pieces of fat, it cannot be more than 30% fat, and the fat and added water together cannot top 40%. So there are federal limits on how much of my beach sandwich is allowed to be water, which is more regulation than I expected to find on a Wednesday.

Do you understand what this means? It means the United States government has looked at a hot dog and a slice of bologna and said those are the same animal. I have now, without realizing it, planted two separate flags on the exact same sausage in two different shapes. I am not troubled by this. I am delighted by it. It also means the Council cannot come after my bologna without coming after their own namesake, and I would like that on the record.

One more piece of history, because it is a good one: bologna started life as a variation on mortadella, the big Italian sausage from the actual city of Bologna, Italy, with the visible cubes of fat and the pistachios in it. Somebody brought it across the ocean, smoothed it out, took the pistachios back out, made it cheap, and turned it into the lunch that fed the Depression and then fed every kid in my neighborhood. Mortadella is on charcuterie boards now. Bologna is at the beach in a cooler. I know which one I am, and I am at peace.

So that is the hill I will die on bologna, said plainly: white bread, bologna, American cheese, a little mayo, mustard permitted, nothing else invited. Tell me where you land in the comments. Are you Team Stephanie, or are you one of those people about to type the words “but have you tried it toasted with a good sharp cheddar,” or are you a fried bologna loyalist opening up an entirely separate front in this war? Bring it. My chair is not moving and my cooler is right here.

Hill I Will Die On — Bologna FAQ

White bread? You are a food blogger. Surely you don’t mean white bread.

I absolutely mean white bread, and I mean the soft kind. This is a texture argument, not a nutrition argument. Soft white bread gives way the second you bite it, so the bologna and the cheese and the mayo all arrive at the same time. A hearty artisan loaf fights you, pushes the filling out the far side, and shreds the roof of your mouth. Save the good bread for the good sandwich. This is not that sandwich, and it was never trying to be.

What about lettuce and tomato? A little crunch would help.

Not at the beach. Lettuce in a cooler is a countdown clock, and a tomato slice will turn the bottom piece of bread into wet paper before you have finished putting on sunscreen. If you want crunch, bring chips and put them beside the sandwich, or put them on the sandwich, which I will allow and will not be discussing further.

Isn’t bologna basically just a hot dog that got stepped on?

Legally, yes, and I have made peace with it. Bologna sits in the same USDA category of cured, cooked sausages that the frankfurter does, so the government sees very little difference between the two. The difference that matters to me is the shape. A hot dog needs a grill and a bun and a whole production. Bologna comes out of the fridge already flat and already done, which is exactly what a beach day is asking for.

Should you fry it first?

A fried bologna sandwich is a wonderful thing and it is a completely different sandwich. That one is a hot lunch at the kitchen counter with the edges crisped up and curled, and if you want it to lie flat you cut two little slits toward the middle before it hits the pan. But it is not what goes in the cooler. The hill I will die on bologna is specifically the cold one, on white bread, eaten in a beach chair.

Mayo or mustard? And where do you stand on Miracle Whip?

A little bit of mayo is the standard and some mustard too is the only variation allowed, exactly as written on my hill. Both together is fine and that is how Jason takes his. As for Miracle Whip, it is a different product doing a different job with a lot more sugar in it, and if that is what your mama packed then that is your beach sandwich and I would not dream of taking it from you. This hill has room for regional variation. It does not have room for lettuce.

More Hills Worth Dying On — Strong Food Opinions from Stephanie

• The Hill I Will Die On: Pork Is a Wonderful, Magical Animal — the bigger hill this one sits on, because ham, bacon, chops and ribs all come off the same astonishing animal.
• The Hill I Will Die On: Bread Is Life and Life Without Bread Is No Life — the soft white bread on this hill is not a detail, it is the entire foundation, and I made the case for all of it.
• The Hill I Will Die On: A Sandwich Always Tastes Better When Somebody Else Makes It — the hill this one set up, and the one where a Nobel Prize winner finally explained why somebody else’s cooler sandwich wins.
• The Hill I Will Die On: Hot Dogs Only Want Ketchup and Mustard — the first time I took on an official council, and the reason bologna and I are legally related.
• The Hill I Will Die On: Totino’s Frozen Pizza Is Worth Every Bite — another cheap, humble food I refuse to apologize for.
• The Hill I Will Die On: Watermelon and Corn Are the Taste of Summer — the other two things I will not do without between June and September.
• The Hill I Will Die On: Klondike Bars Beat the Drumstick — a blind panel of judges tied my hands on this one and I stood my ground anyway.
• The Hill I Will Die On: Breakfast for Dinner Beats Breakfast at Breakfast Time — where I went looking for backup and came home with the federal government.
• The Hill I Will Die On: My Top 5 Chips, and I Have Put a Lot of Thought Into This — what goes in the bag next to that beach sandwich, ranked one through five.
• Every hill, sorted by the kind of argument — all my strong food opinions in one place, or browse them newest first.

The Hill I Will Die On — About Stephanie Longstreth

Stephanie Longstreth is the home cook, mom, and storyteller behind StephanieCooksForACrowd.com. She cooks for a family of seven in Florida — five kids, two cats, and one husband who appreciates a good meal. Four of her children came home through adoption, and family stories are woven into everything she makes and shares. Find her crowd-friendly recipes, weekly meal plans, and real family life on TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, and Pinterest @stephaniecooksforacrowd.