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Boston.com food writer Katelyn Umholtz waited in line for 45 minutes to test out the sandwiches at All'Antico Vinaio. If you’ve taken a stroll through Back Bay as of late, you’ve possibly noticed a line that partially snakes down Boylston and leads into a tiny storefront behind black iron fencing. All’Antico Vinaio, one of Boston’s newest restaurants, was expected to draw hordes of people, and it has delivered on its promise nearly every day since its opening this month. It helps that this Florence chain, currently expanding rapidly in the U.S., has garnered quite the global fanbase for its high-quality Italian paninis, also known as Schiacciata. These sandwiches aren’t overly stuffed, but what they do include between two crispy, fresh baked breads are delicious imported meats and cheeses from Tuscany. All’Antico Vinaio’s sandwiches have been called some of the best in the world. So yeah, there was always going to be a line. But here’s the question: Should you wait in this line? I, for one, hate lines. So naturally I was assigned to torture by my editors. It was Friday during peak lunch hours, and there was a string of people out the door at the 565 Boylston Street location, blocking the entrance to the neighboring Chick-fil-A. To my knowledge, there appeared to be no other waits at nearby restaurants. In my mind, there are really three things that are already up against All’Antico Vinaio as I prepare to try this globally irresistible sandwich and later write about it. The first is the wait, of course, but then there’s the cost (some sandwiches are as cheap as $13, but most run between $17 to $19) and the fact that this restaurant is just another non-local chain to take away business space from a potentially exciting local eatery. But in this line, I am obviously alone in those critiques. One person in line, Clifton Johnson, said this was his fifth visit to this location of All’Antico Vinaio. On break between Boston University medical school classes, he has tried several of the 21 sandwiches on the menu here, not all to his liking. But he finally found the one to come back for, the pistachio-filled La Paradiso. “Best sandwich ever,” Johnson said. “It’s worth it.” He also shared that the shop was without a long line on a Thursday when he came here for his favorite sandwich. Another guest, Aly Quinn, was in line for her second visit to All’Antico Vinaio. What drew her to these Tuscan sandwiches in the first place? The line. “We just had to know what was going on,” Quinn said. The price of these sandwiches is also not much of a concern for the dozens of people waiting on Friday. A $19 sandwich, after all, is “the going rate” in Boston, said queue member Janet Bienkowski. She’s got a point. I thought the price of these sandwiches was absurd until I looked at other sandwich prices. I ordered a sub from Bob’s Italian Foods in Medford and was charged $18. The specialty focaccia sandwiches at Bricco Salumeria are also $18. Sandwiches, of course, come in varying sizes, it depends on the ingredients, but generally sandwiches in Boston are flirting with $20 price tags. Talking to strangers at least made the 45-minute line move quickly, and finally I arrive at a person who can make me food. I may never wait in this line again, so just to be safe, I ordered three sandwiches: the famous La Favolosa, a truffle-scented La Schiacciata del Boss, and Johnson’s favorite La Paradiso. The consensus: These sandwiches are what everyone else has said about them, which is why they garner article after article as they arrive in cities like Miami and Santa Monica. What makes these sandwiches so seemingly line-worthy is indeed the bread, the Schiacciata, a crispy Tuscan flatbread that’s baked daily. The imported Italian ingredients are applied generously but also simply, leaving the diner with a sandwich that is filling but not overwhelming or overstuffed. Johnson was right that the La Paradiso, with its pistachios in pistachio cream and layers of rich mortadella, was worthy of its $17 price tag, as was my co-worker’s del Boss ($19), which paired Tuscan-imported prosciutto and pecorino with a truffle cream. The Favolosa was our least favorite, mostly because something had to be last and I don’t love eggplant. You’re in for a top-tier sandwich — and if the mood strikes, a glass of Italian wine or Peroni beer — when you go to All’Antico Vinaio. But you’ll never convince me that any sandwich, or any food, is worth a wait like that, no matter how cool it is to wait in a line. Funny enough, I’d been told by repeat visitors that the line was much longer on previous days, which was dizzying to me. Now open for decades in Florence, its original locations still produce lengthy lines to this day. But I’m grumpy and don’t think lines should be “vibes.” I’d walk six minutes on Boylston to local favorite Parish Cafe, where a little bit more spending gets me more sandwich. For Italian lunch, the Salty Pig offers its menu of boards, pizza, and sandwiches for pick-up, and you can feel good about supporting another local business. We also live in a solid sandwich city, from the chicken Ariana at Al’s Cafes and Cutty’s Beef 1000 to the tortas at Tenoch. Maybe one day, when I don’t see throngs of hungry people waiting outside, I’ll revisit. Until then, I know Al’s will have me and feed me quickly.
