8 Chain Restaurant BLTs Ranked Worst To Best

Sitting at a bar the other day among a chatty group of imbibers, I decided to have some fun with them. I asked a seemingly simple question to all present company: What makes a perfect BLT? The ensuing arguments were varied, mixed, and incredibly heated, with some people arguing the sandwich would be useless without a ripe, juicy, and well-seasoned tomato, while others believed a thoughtful slathering of mayo or a generous layer of crunchy lettuce was key. It was also said that good bread is the most important component, whereas others thought high-quality bacon (and a lot of it) was an absolute necessity.

Clearly, there really isn't one singular component in a BLT carrying the success of the sandwich, at least not one the general public can agree upon universally. Whatever components are chosen for the assembly, the main goal is that they should work harmoniously together to make a tasty sandwich that makes sense. While a BLT offers a cheat sheet in the name itself for at least the bare minimum requirements, there are so many interpretations that can include and go beyond bacon, lettuce, and tomato. And among those options, I tried eight of them. Chewing my way through old-school classics, hearty breakfast sandwiches, and deli-style stacks, read on for how I tasted and ranked the following chain restaurant BLTs.

Panera Bread's Chicken & Avo BLT was a messy situation that toppled, crashed, and scattered all over last place. It's the prime example of what not to do when making a BLT. The most noticeable issue was that there were too many clunky components that obviously couldn't fit between the bread slices. This slapdash attempt looked like it was made carelessly in a hurry.

While I should be grateful for how much excess filling came with a single sandwich order, I wasn't asking for a cascading cornucopia crammed with mangled wedges of avocados and tomatoes, hunky pieces of lettuce, bizarrely thick slices of sharp cheddar, and rubbery pieces of grilled chicken. The sourdough bread was also a poor choice, since its overpowering tanginess made this behemoth even more difficult to try to enjoy. And the bacon was clearly an afterthought in this stuffed sandwich — if it was accidentally left out, I wouldn't have even noticed. I made multiple attempts to try and smush everything together for a more manageable sandwich, but I failed miserably as chunks and hunks of ingredients spewed out in all directions. A far cry from Ina Garten's BLT upgrade with ripe avocado tossed in lemon juice, this was a disaster.

A good sandwich is a good sandwich. Red Robin's BLTA Croissant was a decent pick off its menu and is a lighter and fresher offering compared to all of the heftier beef burgers and crowd-pleasing mozzarella sticks. There was crispy romaine lettuce, thinly sliced turkey deli meat, a couple of pieces of bacon, a few slices of bright green avocado, juicy tomatoes, and a good smear of mayonnaise. All of that was (surprisingly) very neatly secured inside a croissant and served with my choice of side: steak fries.

But was it the BLT of my dreams? No, not at all. It was definitely a turkey sandwich, not a BLT. The thin strips of bacon, while still contributing a salty, savory element to the sandwich, played only a minor role among the layers when I wanted it to scream and shout its porky ballad. The semi-stale croissant wasn't that impressive, either. It reminded me of bread you would pick off a sandwich platter from a mid-level catering company that's been sitting out for a few hours after a corporate lunch meeting.

The All American BLT from Bob Evans had all the potential to score significantly higher, but the bread and some of the accompaniments were major flops (pun intended). The bacon was thick and meaty and exactly as advertised on the menu: center-cut, hardwood-smoked strips. There was nothing bad to complain about nor anything great to brag about with the slice of tomato. It wasn't freshly-picked-from-the-farm ripe, but it was still okay. The sandwich also came with a side, and I giddily chose the creamy mashed potatoes topped with country gravy.

As for the obvious negatives, the bread's sogginess was something I couldn't miss. The golden-yellow slices of brioche looked like they had been griddled, but any crisp texture was totally obliterated by how weirdly wet the bread was. My assumption was there was an excess amount of butter or oil when griddling, and the soft brioche absorbed most of it like a sponge until it was sopping. I couldn't find any mayonnaise (perhaps that, too, met its untimely doom and was soaked into the bread), which was a detriment to the sandwich, as it could've used that creamy, tangy layer. The lettuce was limp and soft, and the equally limp and soft pickles on the side were unnecessary.

I don't have a scathing review against Subway's BLT. It was one of the least expensive options, and I got what I paid for: a basic 6-inch sub made at a rapid pace with simple ingredients that were subpar compared to its higher-ranking competitors. The very thin, precooked bacon was thrown onto a pan and microwaved until it sizzled and shrunk to half its original size. And the non-name-brand mayonnaise always tastes a little questionable, which is 99.9% attributed to my own personal issue of not knowing where Subway sources it.

You can go with Chowhound's recommended customizations of garlic aioli and guacamole on Subway's BLT, but I remained loyal to the classic components. What I genuinely appreciated was that it was a straightforward take with all the right elements in all the right ratios. Despite the disappearing act during microwaving and that it did taste a little burnt, there was still plenty of bacon remaining for a well-balanced sandwich. There was a decent amount of tomato slices and a hefty handful of crisp iceberg lettuce. And every single time I have ever gone to a Subway, I never have any issues with the sandwich makers being stingy on the mayo.

Though it's made it onto some people's lists of which Panera Bread sandwiches to avoid, I actually think the chain redeemed itself with this light and fresh rendition of a Tomato Basil BLT. There were strips of applewood-smoked bacon, thin slices of tomato, mixed greens, and mayonnaise. I really loved how vibrant yet delicate this one tasted, even with a heavily cured, savory main ingredient like bacon. Combined with the perfectly soft slices of tomato basil miche bread, I was immediately transported to an outdoor dining table at a sunny summer garden party among the vegetables and herbs.

The sandwich wasn't bogged down by excessive amounts of ingredients or additions that didn't belong, though I definitely could have used a little more mayonnaise. I also thought the bacon wasn't as good of a quality as that used by some of the other, more successful competitors. Even though more old-school, zero-fuss interpretations of the BLT ranked higher, I would definitely order this one again when I need a little sunshine during my next lunch break.

First Watch's BLTE is the exception I'll gladly make to the popular opinion that a BLT is better off in its simplest, most stripped-down form. Despite having a loaded list of ingredients, the BLTE at First Watch was still balanced, fresh, and easy to eat. It was a unique, over-the-top twist that still paid serious homage to the classic. The "E" in the BLTE refers to the two eggs served on the sandwich (a topping Chowhound agrees belongs on an updated version of a BLT) cooked any way to your liking, such as scrambled, sunny-side up, or egg whites only. I chose two over hard eggs since I didn't want to deal with the fork-and-knife messiness from a runny yolk.

There was also a gooey layer of melted Monterey Jack cheese, thick slices of tomato, mixed greens, and a liberal smear of mayo. The thick strips of hardwood-smoked bacon, which were among the best I tasted, were the ideal salty, fatty complement to the dynamic mix of the other components. The BLTE came with my choice of side. While I could have chosen a hot bowl of soup, seasonal fruit, or potatoes, I stayed on the fresh and savory path with First Watch's lemon-dressed mixed greens.

When you don't have much time for lunch, the last thing you want is a sloppy sandwich. Jimmy John's JJBLT proves you can have a hearty sandwich without the chaotic mess of stuff falling out all over the place. That's the reason why I labeled this one in my notes as "the working (wo)man's sandwich." All of the ingredient layers stacked very neatly for an overall clean build, so the sandwich was quick, convenient, and enjoyable to eat on the go.

I liked that Jimmy John's bread had a hardy structure and chewy girth to it compared to Subway's soft, marshmallow-like bread. I also liked that Jimmy John's used an applewood-smoked bacon with a thicker cut. I could taste the distinct flavor of the smokiness and enjoyed the meaty texture. The bacon could have been just a little saltier, but it's a small, nitpicky critique to make here. They didn't skimp on the other components either; the fresh lettuce, thick tomato slices, and Hellmann's-brand mayonnaise all equally contributed to this stellar sandwich, which was overall simple, solid, satisfying.

Everything was in perfect harmony when I ate Jersey Mike's Subs BLT. The birds were singing, the bees were buzzing, and the sun was shining. Nothing about this sandwich was imbalanced, out of place, excessive, or questionable. This was another classic option, with nothing more than the basic components (bacon, lettuce, tomato, and mayo). The minimal assembly allowed this simple sandwich to speak for itself without any loud interruptions from other boisterous ingredients.

Every part of this BLT was a success. Some have felt that Jersey Mike's has the absolute worst sandwich bread, but I enjoyed it! The crumb was fluffy but still had enough strength and texture, and the crust was light and feathery. The bacon was crispy and well-seasoned, the tomato was juicy, and the shredded iceberg lettuce had a definite crunch factor. Finished with a good slather of mayonnaise, I was happy to immediately stuff my face as soon as I finished unwrapping the sandwich.

Because I tried BLT sandwiches in a variety of different styles, I was not searching for a certain standard number of bacon or tomato slices or a certain weight of lettuce. The steadfast focus of my judgment was how each sandwich's individual components came together as a whole for an overall enjoyable experience. If a BLT included additional accoutrements (such as avocado, eggs, cheese, or other meat), how did that harmonize with the other base ingredients? Was there a balance, or was there any sort of disparity that threw it off?

And as these were not the cheapest sandwiches, I did factor in the size of each sandwich and whether or not the price included any sides. I also enlisted the experienced opinion of my husband, a food industry professional and serious savory eater. He was pretty stoked when I came home with eight different sandwiches but quelled his enthusiasm during the taste-testing to provide critical feedback.