Highland Park is famously walkable, with a rich history. Combined, it creates the perfect conditions for a slew of sandwich spots that combine novel experimentation with old-time tradition.

Initially a landing spot for 19th-century Italian immigrants, the neighborhood later became predominantly Latino before evolving into today's hipster hot spot. All those influences can still be felt in eateries along Fig and York.

I used to live there and still have an affection for the area. And I have my favorites to head to for a great sandwich when I'm hungry and nearby.

I'd also heard there were new spots emerging that were getting acclaim for their sandwich offerings, so I enlisted the help of Luca Servodio, host of the L.A. Food Podcast and the galaxy brain behind the social media account L.A. Countdown.

Last year, he wrote for LAist about eating 100 L.A. sandwiches over 12 months, so he knows his stuff. Since he also lives in the neighborhood, I asked him to take me on a sandwich tour.

The sign on the storefront may read "Coldest Beer in Town," but the deli tucked away in the back of Flask Fine Wine & Whiskey has become a mainstay for making some of the hottest sandwiches in the neighborhood since 2019. Owner Jeff Strauss describes the out-of-the-box offerings as the natural byproduct of fusing his upbringing as an East Coast Jewish kid with more than three decades living in the City of Angels.

And while you can indulge in something creative like the Kold Kimcheezy (comprising smoked ham, house-made kimchi, Manchego, and salted plum mustard, among other things), we opted for Jeff's Special -- a meticulously crafted reuben famous for its fall-apart house-made pastrami and a crunchy gruyère crisp tucked away amidst the tried-and-true combo of sauerkraut and Russian dressing. It's pure decadence between two slices of griddle rye.

Family-owned Delicias Bakery & Some screams neighborhood like no other place in Highland Park; the sheer fact that it's stayed in business for 30 years by constantly adjusting its menu to attract a new customer base is a perfect example of its staying power. In the 2010s, they began creating vegan versions of everything, becoming, they claim, the first panadería in L.A. to serve vegan pan dulce.

We tried their vegan Milanesa, made with their telera bread, a flatter, softer, and rounder version of bolillo. It's packed with a breaded patty made from soy protein and topped with beans, purple cabbage, onion, tomato, and chipotle mayo. It may seem like a heavy mouthful, but I was surprised at how much of a light bite it was, with the flavors and textures intermingling, serving up a heavenly dish.

I was excited to try this sandwich, especially since I wasn't even aware this storied soda shop sold sandwiches. I've had approximately a gazillion Italian sandwiches (check my spreadsheet if you don't believe me), and very few are characterized by their restraint. More often than not, they end up looking like a game of deli-case Jenga.

However, there's a "less is more" quality to Galco's version that I sincerely appreciated. It's meat, cheese, pickle, and sauce. That's it. And while you'll never find anything like this Italian sandwich in Italy (sandwiches in Italy are famously austere, consisting of merely bread and meat), Galco's feels like a spiritual ancestor, not unlike the iconic "The Sandwich" at Roma Market in Pasadena.

Much ink has been spilled about El Huarache Azteca, including by Jonathan Gold, who included it in his 99 Essential Restaurants 2008 for the L.A. Weekly. Its namesake dish, made of an elongated masa, named after the Spanish word for sandal, is nothing short of spectacular.

The menu celebrates the cuisine of Mexico City or "Distrito Federal," like their pambazo, a cousin of the torta, often sold on the city's bustling streets. Here at more-laid-back El Huarache, it still carries its vibes. Luca and I split ours while sitting at one of their many sidewalk tables. The saturated bread is fused with a potato and chorizo mixture that melts in your mouth.

I thought Gab was off his rocker when he suggested ordering The Loxsmith on pumpernickel. Who orders pumpernickel? (Editor's note: this guy) Even the name sounds like something Germans use to de-clog pipes.

Alas, I could not have been more wrong. The bagel's subtle earthiness danced in lockstep to the beat of the beet cream cheese, while its nuttiness was mirrored by the perfectly crisp sliver of fried salmon skin that gives the sandwich its unique texture. It turns out that pumpernickel isn't just the best choice for Belle's iconic lox-laced sandwich -- it may be the only choice.