'A treasure hunt': Columbia diners seek the perfect pork tenderloin sandwich

Everyday explorers carve lines in the Midwest map, then chronicle their latest find with a photograph, maybe a few dozen words.

Fine details differ, but the prize remains the same: pork, breaded and fried, unable — or unwilling — to be constrained by the average sandwich bun.

The pork tenderloin sandwich is like a "Frisbee-sized slab of meat on a normal-sized sandwich bun, making the whole thing look like a flying saucer made of schnitzel," Clint Worthington wrote for The Takeout in 2019.

This heartland staple inspires real devotion from enthusiasts, who revel in finding the biggest, the best, the strangest. The thrill of the search — which leads through legendary dives, little-known gems, surprisingly good chain restaurants and grocery store cafes — and its flavorful reward take the shape of a quest.

"Finding the biggest and best one is kind of like going on a treasure hunt, which most definitely keeps the conversation and search alive," Shea Spence said in an email.

Spence is among the Columbia residents belonging to the Facebook group Pursuing Pork Tenderloin Sandwiches, which counts nearly 100,000 members. There, the search stays alive as people catalog their discoveries, swap stories and share landmark finds.

Different roads, one great sandwich

Brian Craig might as well be a lifelong devotee to the pork tenderloin sandwich. (Those in the know often use the acronym BPT, for breaded pork tenderloin.)

His early memory is crystal clear: Craig first ate a BPT as a 5-year-old growing up in La Paz, Indiana, essentially the sandwich's cradle. The BPT quickly earned top billing.

"It was so delicious and so different from a hamburger. For years, when I was a little kid, I wanted those more than hamburgers," he said.

Migrating to Missouri, Craig found his favorite sandwich waiting. The Hardee's in Mexico, Missouri, sold two pork tenderloins for something like a dollar in the late 1970s, he recalled.

Interest waned a bit until he visited a diner in Bowling Green, Missouri with family. Sitting down, Craig — who fronts the Columbia swamp-rock band Don't Mind Dying — heard a hammering noise coming from the back.

After inquiring, a waitress told him a cook was pounding a pork tenderloin into its perfect texture. As someone whose craft revolves around heavy noise, Craig recognized his equal.

"I went, 'Well, I’ll take one,'" he said like a man who hasn't looked back.

Spence came to what she called "the tenderloin lifestyle" more recently; the sandwich embodies one of her "favorite things about food: nuance."

"There are so many little things that can boost a sandwich from 'good' to 'great' and every restaurant does something a little different than the other that keeps obsessed folks like me searching for more," Spence said.

This Facebook group spurs on the pork tenderloin pursuit

In the Pursuing Pork Tenderloin Sandwiches group, diners share their latest discovery with photos, tales of their experience and sometimes a rating. In the comments, members sometimes debate the relative merits of certain condiments.

Craig, who takes more of a live-and-let-live approach, said Indiana-style purists usually prefer nothing more than mustard, pickles and onion.

"There's many points of contention that draw people into the discussion: how big is too big, bun or no bun, condiments or no condiments, is mustard the only acceptable condiment to put on a tenderloin," Spence said. "The arguments can go on and on."

An Indiana native turned longtime Minnesota resident, David Stovall started the group almost 15 years ago with modest hopes.

"I expected only about 200-300 people as zealous as I am to help me find the best tenderloins," he said in a message to the Tribune.

He was surprised by the group's growth, but quickly recognized kindred spirits.

"People miss them, like I have in moving to other states," he said, explaining part of the BPT appeal. "The biggest reason I think is restaurants serve giant tenderloins that no other sandwich can do and people just have to experience them out of curiosity."

As with other members, the sandwich is wrapped up in Stovall's personal history. The day he received his driver's license, a teenaged Stovall cut a path to Al Green's drive-in in east Indianapolis to sample their iconic tenderloin; the sandwich exists in the same part of his memory as that freedom, he said.

Like Craig, he experienced a gap in his pursuit. Then, on a sick day, he caught the Food Channel dispatch "Racing Across Indiana," reviving his interest.

"This segment was on making the Indiana breaded pork tenderloin sandwich in my hometown and is still one of the best tutorials made," Stovall said.

In the Facebook group, Stovall has logged some 300 tenderloins, from 34 states, he's eaten since retiring.

Posts lean toward tradition, but members occasionally share delicious rarities such as pizzas made from a pork tenderloin base. This month, one member created a Google map with digital pins of locations mentioned across the United States; the map had been viewed more than 28,000 times in its first two days of existence.

And despite the intramural debates, which are mostly good-humored, Spence finds the conversation "wholesome," a rare source of joy on social media.

"People will share pictures of their families at some of the more well-known spots or them smiling alongside a tenderloin the size of their face," she said. "You'll see comments wishing folks well as they start their tenderloin journey or offering other suggestions based on the area they're visiting."

Where to get a good pork tenderloin sandwich in Columbia, across Missouri

Craig and Spence agree on their favorite pork tenderloin sandwich in Columbia.

"Murry's has a great thickness and the quality of the breading was top tier. Perfectly fried and juicy," Spence said.

"If you go there for lunch and get one, you will be like, 'Thank you, BC, you just saved my life,'" Craig added.

A one-man map, Craig recounted the range of BPTs around Columbia and beyond. Big Mama's Cafe, just off I-70, prizes size, he said. The tenderloins there are "monster sized ... you can get like four sandwiches out of them."

The offering at Billiards downtown is simple but effective; and if you want to go the fast-food route, Culver's and Sonic will keep you satisfied, he said.

Branching out across Missouri, Craig praised BPTs at Buchanan's in Auxvasse — "You can hear them pounding it out in the back room also" — and Ecco Lounge in Jefferson City. Heading north, towns like Moberly, Kirksville and St. Joseph house good options, he said.

Sticks and Stones in Hannibal also makes Craig's top-of-mind list. And he specifically mentioned two Kansas City hotspots — Christine's Firehouse and Christy's Tasty Queen.

For his part, Stovall has tried 11 pork tenderloin sandwiches in Missouri. The best, which he's never seen mentioned within the group, was at Boonville's Udder End Cafe.

"It was only served on Tuesdays when the farmers' auction took place," he said.

With so many sandwiches — each telling a story — the search could go on for a lifetime. Enthusiasts hope it does.

Aarik Danielsen is the features and culture editor for the Tribune. Contact him at adanielsen@columbiatribune.com or by calling 573-815-1731. He's on Twitter @aarikdanielsen.

This article originally appeared on Columbia Daily Tribune: Chasing the perfect pork tenderloin sandwich through Columbia and the Midwest