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Breaded Italian Sausage Sandwiches -- The Sandwich That Made the Drive Worth It

Memorial Day weekend. Kevin's got Monday off. The kids are out of school Friday. We drove to Grinnell Saturday morning, all five of us in the minivan with a cooler full of food I made on Friday: potato salad, baked beans, pork tenderloin sandwiches — the Iowa kind, breaded and fried and bigger than the bun, which is the only way a pork tenderloin sandwich should be made, and if you've never had one, I feel sorry for you and also confused about what you've been doing with your life.

The pork tenderloin sandwich is Iowa's real state food. Butterflied, pounded flat, breaded in seasoned flour, deep-fried until golden, served on a standard-size bun that the tenderloin hangs over by three inches on all sides. Pickles, mustard, onion on top. That's it. Don't put lettuce on it. Don't put avocado on it. Don't make it "elevated." It's perfect the way it is.

Dad was in the garden when we arrived. He looked up and saw the kids and his face did the thing it does — not a smile, exactly, but a softening, like a field after rain. Jack went straight to the garden. Noah found a lawn mower engine in the garage and started examining it. Emma organized the spice rack in Dad's kitchen, which did not need organizing but which kept her busy and made her feel important.

We grilled burgers for dinner. Kevin manned the grill because that's his one cooking territory, and I let him have it because marriage is about strategic concessions and the grill is an easy one. Dad ate a whole burger, which is more than he usually eats. Something about having the kids around makes him eat. Maybe it's the noise. Maybe it's the distraction. Maybe food just tastes better when you're not eating alone.

We drove home Sunday evening. Dad stood in the driveway and watched us go. He always does that — stands there until the car turns the corner. I know because I check the mirror every time. He's always there. Getting smaller in the rearview. I hate that image and I love that image and both things are true at the same time, which is how most things are when you're grieving something that isn't dead but isn't alive the way it used to be.

I already had the Iowa pork tenderloins handled for the trip to Grinnell — those I’d made on Friday, tucked into the cooler alongside the potato salad and baked beans — but when we got home Sunday evening and I was still carrying that hollow, full feeling you get after a good family weekend, I needed something to make for the week ahead that hit those same notes: breaded, golden, satisfying, bigger than it needs to be. These breaded Italian sausage sandwiches with amoigue and roasted red pepper relish are what I landed on. Different from what we ate at Dad’s, but made in the same spirit — the spirit of feeding people you love something that takes real effort and tastes like it.

Breaded Italian Sausage Sandwiches with Amoigue and Roasted Red Pepper Relish

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 4 Italian sausage links (sweet or hot, your preference)
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 2 large eggs, beaten
  • 1 1/2 cups Italian-seasoned breadcrumbs
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • Vegetable oil for frying (about 1/2 inch in pan)
  • 4 hoagie rolls or sturdy sandwich buns
  • For the Roasted Red Pepper Relish:
  • 2 roasted red peppers (jarred or fresh-roasted), diced
  • 1/4 cup diced red onion
  • 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • For the Amoigue Sauce:
  • 1/2 cup mayonnaise
  • 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
  • 1 tablespoon prepared horseradish
  • 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
  • 1 teaspoon lemon juice
  • Pinch of cayenne pepper

Instructions

  1. Make the relish. Combine diced roasted red peppers, red onion, red wine vinegar, olive oil, and sugar in a small bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Stir to combine and set aside to let the flavors meld while you prepare the sausages.
  2. Make the amoigue sauce. Whisk together mayonnaise, Dijon mustard, horseradish, Worcestershire sauce, lemon juice, and cayenne in a small bowl until smooth. Taste and adjust seasoning. Refrigerate until ready to use.
  3. Butterfly the sausages. Using a sharp knife, slice each sausage lengthwise almost all the way through, then open it flat like a book. Press gently to flatten so the sausage will cook evenly and have more surface area for breading.
  4. Set up a breading station. Place flour seasoned with garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, salt, and pepper in one shallow dish. Place beaten eggs in a second dish. Place breadcrumbs in a third dish.
  5. Bread the sausages. Dredge each butterflied sausage in seasoned flour, shaking off excess. Dip in beaten egg, letting excess drip off. Press firmly into breadcrumbs, coating both sides completely. Set breaded sausages on a plate.
  6. Fry until golden. Heat about 1/2 inch of vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering (around 350°F). Carefully lay sausages flat in the pan and fry for 4–5 minutes per side, until deep golden brown and cooked through. Work in batches to avoid crowding. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate.
  7. Toast the rolls. While sausages rest, split hoagie rolls and toast them cut-side down in the same skillet or under the broiler until lightly golden.
  8. Assemble. Spread amoigue sauce generously on both sides of each toasted roll. Lay a breaded sausage on the bottom half. Spoon a generous portion of roasted red pepper relish over the top. Close the sandwich and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 620 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 34g | Carbs: 54g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 1,140mg

Diane Holloway
About the cook who shared this
Diane Holloway
Week 9 of Diane’s 30-year story · Des Moines, Iowa
Diane is a forty-six-year-old insurance adjuster in Des Moines who grew up on a four-hundred-acre farm that her family had worked since 1908. When commodity prices crashed and the bank came calling, the Webers lost the farm — four generations of heritage sold at auction. Diane left with her mother's casserole recipes and a cast iron skillet and rebuilt her life in the city. She cooks Midwest comfort food because it tastes like home, even when home doesn't exist anymore.

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