A few weeks ago, I started searching around Reddit, Yelp, and other sites in an effort to put together a list of standout local delis. Mostly, I just like a good sandwich. But now, I wanted to figure out exactly what it is that makes a good deli. Or, at least, exactly what it takes for sandwich lovers to go online and declare a deli to be their personal favorite?
I assembled my list, but before I could do anything about it, the first entry got a little bit famous. Again.
Beyer Deli — a small, family-owned shop in Otay Mesa — made yet another appearance on Yelp's annual top 100 restaurants list. It only showed up at number 14 this year, after peaking at number 4 in 2023 (apparently it dropped out of the top 100 in 2024). If the internet is to be believed, San Diego's best deli sits in a small South Bay office park, as it has done for a quarter century. My mission, and I chose to accept it, was now to pay them a visit and try to figure out why it is so beloved.
I'll go out on a limb and suggest the place doesn't get much help from a common factor in a sandwich shop's popularity: convenience. Beyer Deli sits a quarter mile off the 905 freeway, which I'm sure only a handful of readers know is a seven-mile stretch of highway traversing southern Chula Vista roughly parallel to the Mexican border. That makes it convenient for border patrol officers — who, to be fair, ahve decorated the deli's walls with appreciative plaques, signed sports jerseys, and photographs — but few others.
On top of that, Beyer Deli accepts cash only, and is open just four days a week: from 9am to 3pm, Tuesday through Friday. Further, I found service to be slower than at many deli counters. The owners, Michael and Dina, run the shop themselves with a couple of employees, and they're all kept plenty busy by phone- and dine-in orders. To sum up: would-be customers must make their way to a small office park on out-of-the-way Beyer Boulevard in the middle of a weekday, bring cash, and be prepared to wait.
Yes, the sandwiches are worth it.
Exactly what makes them so laudable is tricky. They're made on good bread, sourced form a local bakery — whether triple-decker club sandwiches made on toasted sourdough or squaw bread, Italian-style subs made on chewy rolls, or a litany of specialty sandwiches made on torta — aka telera — rolls. They're made using generous portions of hand-picked deli meats—not merely the ubiquitous Boar's Head or Dietz & Watson brands—with mild condiments and plenty of shredded lettuce. And they're served with pickle spears.
In other words, they're nothing fancy, nothing outlandish, nothing that would immediately explain why Yelp users and Redditors unite in their praise, during a time when so few people agree about anything, online or off.
Personally, I was won over by the so-called South of the Border sandwich, partly because I enjoyed the irony. One of the more popular sandwiches in a shop frequented by ICE agents is named for Mexico. And though it's little more than roast beef, melted provolone cheese, mayo, and roasted Ortega chiles on a torta, it provides a fine example of what they do so well here. There's just the right amount of meat and fixings to suit the bread, and unlike cafeteria-style delis that invite guests to add any and every available topping, each sandwich is made with just what it needs and nothing more. (Though Dina did recommend adding pepperoncinis to this one.)
In the end, I have to give credit to the sandwich-making expertise of Beyer Deli's owners, who have been running their business in much the same way for more than 25 years. Michael and Dina have made countless sandwiches, raised a family, and kept their humble business going with remarkable consistency, even as customers call, text, or show up to tell them all the ways the internet has crowned them San Diego's — indeed, one of the nation's — best.
They don't seek the attention, or aim to bask in any limelight. They just show up every day to treat their customers warmly, do their best to keep things moving efficiently, and accomplish a simple goal they've set for themselves: to make great sandwiches. Mission accomplished.
A few weeks ago, I started searching around Reddit, Yelp, and other sites in an effort to put together a list of standout local delis. Mostly, I just like a good sandwich. But now, I wanted to figure out exactly what it is that makes a good deli. Or, at least, exactly what it takes for sandwich lovers to go online and declare a deli to be their personal favorite?
I assembled my list, but before I could do anything about it, the first entry got a little bit famous. Again.
Beyer Deli — a small, family-owned shop in Otay Mesa — made yet another appearance on Yelp's annual top 100 restaurants list. It only showed up at number 14 this year, after peaking at number 4 in 2023 (apparently it dropped out of the top 100 in 2024). If the internet is to be believed, San Diego's best deli sits in a small South Bay office park, as it has done for a quarter century. My mission, and I chose to accept it, was now to pay them a visit and try to figure out why it is so beloved.
I'll go out on a limb and suggest the place doesn't get much help from a common factor in a sandwich shop's popularity: convenience. Beyer Deli sits a quarter mile off the 905 freeway, which I'm sure only a handful of readers know is a seven-mile stretch of highway traversing southern Chula Vista roughly parallel to the Mexican border. That makes it convenient for border patrol officers — who, to be fair, ahve decorated the deli's walls with appreciative plaques, signed sports jerseys, and photographs — but few others.
On top of that, Beyer Deli accepts cash only, and is open just four days a week: from 9am to 3pm, Tuesday through Friday. Further, I found service to be slower than at many deli counters. The owners, Michael and Dina, run the shop themselves with a couple of employees, and they're all kept plenty busy by phone- and dine-in orders. To sum up: would-be customers must make their way to a small office park on out-of-the-way Beyer Boulevard in the middle of a weekday, bring cash, and be prepared to wait.
Yes, the sandwiches are worth it.
Exactly what makes them so laudable is tricky. They're made on good bread, sourced form a local bakery — whether triple-decker club sandwiches made on toasted sourdough or squaw bread, Italian-style subs made on chewy rolls, or a litany of specialty sandwiches made on torta — aka telera — rolls. They're made using generous portions of hand-picked deli meats—not merely the ubiquitous Boar's Head or Dietz & Watson brands—with mild condiments and plenty of shredded lettuce. And they're served with pickle spears.
In other words, they're nothing fancy, nothing outlandish, nothing that would immediately explain why Yelp users and Redditors unite in their praise, during a time when so few people agree about anything, online or off.
Personally, I was won over by the so-called South of the Border sandwich, partly because I enjoyed the irony. One of the more popular sandwiches in a shop frequented by ICE agents is named for Mexico. And though it's little more than roast beef, melted provolone cheese, mayo, and roasted Ortega chiles on a torta, it provides a fine example of what they do so well here. There's just the right amount of meat and fixings to suit the bread, and unlike cafeteria-style delis that invite guests to add any and every available topping, each sandwich is made with just what it needs and nothing more. (Though Dina did recommend adding pepperoncinis to this one.)
In the end, I have to give credit to the sandwich-making expertise of Beyer Deli's owners, who have been running their business in much the same way for more than 25 years. Michael and Dina have made countless sandwiches, raised a family, and kept their humble business going with remarkable consistency, even as customers call, text, or show up to tell them all the ways the internet has crowned them San Diego's — indeed, one of the nation's — best.
They don't seek the attention, or aim to bask in any limelight. They just show up every day to treat their customers warmly, do their best to keep things moving efficiently, and accomplish a simple goal they've set for themselves: to make great sandwiches. Mission accomplished.