One beautiful Wednesday morning just before 11 a.m., I found myself faced with a mountainous pile of thinly sliced, slow-roasted, tender roast beef generously slathered with James River BBQ sauce, mayonnaise, and white American cheese (the traditional “three-way”), sandwiched between a buttered and grilled caramelized onion bun. 

Looking at the towering challenge before me, I thought, “Surely I won’t be able to finish all of this right now.”

Approximately three minutes later, as I wiped the remnants of the now completely vanquished Super Beef from Big Jim’s Roast Beef from my hands, table, shirt, pants—and yes, a bit out of my hair—I realized there was no chance of any part of that sandwich going home with me. Not only was it ridiculously, awesomely delicious, chef/owner James “Big Jim” Jones had just explained that these types of sandwiches are best eaten immediately, as per Massachusetts’ North Shore Beef Code.

“These are the beef guidelines,” he explains, pointing to a list of rules lorded over by a very angry looking anthropomorphic roast beef sandwich that I would venture to guess at least a few hundred people in Massachusetts have tattooed on them. He runs through each rule, ranging from acronyms for efficient ordering (COTB: Cheese on the Bottom vs. COTT: Cheese on the Top) to review criteria for comparing notes with other aficionados (B2B: Beef to Bun ratio or NGB: Nicely Griddled Bun).

He stopped at TIB: Time in Bag. Ideally, the time your sandwich spends in a to-go bag should be as close to zero as possible—every second the medium-rare beef sits on a bun and not on your tongue, it goes from pink to gray. “You want to have no time in bag,” he says. “As soon as you get it, eat it.” 

There aren’t a ton of places in Southern California to get a legit New England–style North Shore roast beef sandwich, and Big Jim’s feels like a teleporter to Massachusetts, where Jones originally hails from. When he moved to San Diego in 2016, he worked in a few kitchens around town like Ono Grinds, Wicked Maine Lobster, and Cloak & Petal for a couple of years. Cue the pandemic, and the at-home boredom.

He picked up a deli slicer from OfferUp and started roasting and slicing roast beef like he used to get back home. Making sandwiches for himself turned into making sandwiches for friends. That turned into making an Instagram page for deliveries and then a pop-up at Poor House Brewing Company in North Park. Finally, it became a booth at a couple of farmers markets. 

Three years later, he got the chance to lease a small storefront in Pacific Beach, and celebrated the restaurant’s two-year anniversary this September.

Like the roast beef, Jones’ business plan takes time. “[I] let the universe work pretty naturally and organically,” he says in terms of his expansion plans. He’s in no rush to open a second storefront, but would be open to it once he feels the Pacific Beach location gets fully dialed in. There’s still a bit of customer education to do, because a North Shore-style roast beef sandwich shouldn’t be messed with, and the customer isn’t always right (at first). 

“If people come in and they get a roast beef sandwich and ask me for ketchup, I say, ‘What are you using your ketchup for?’ And depending on what their answer is, you might not get the condiment that you want to go with your sandwich,” he says with a smile. “It’s beautifully perfect the way it is. Try it! And if you still want some condiments to go with it, come back. Let me know. I’ll take care of you.”

His signature sandwich is unquestionably the Super Beef, the New England regional classic that’s really not for the faint of heart. For a more diminutive approach, the Junior Beef is the same thing, but with slightly less roast beef on a plain bun rather than an onion bun. There’s also a French dip (which he admits isn’t a Massachusetts staple, but still beloved); a steak & cheese on a hoagie roll; and the homemade, hand-cut onion rings that have a cult following. (Warning: a large order of onion rings is bigger than you think.)

Despite making it to #33 on Yelp’s top 100 restaurants for 2025, a lot of Big Jim’s business comes from word of mouth and the small, but strong contingent of “Massholes” (he said it, not me!) in PB. “We’re the nicest jerks you’ve ever met,” Jones jokes. 

But the San Diego sun must melt the grumpiness out of the East Coast transplants, because from what I can see, everyone leaving Big Jim’s is in a great mood, despite bulging bellies and barbecue-sauce smeared fingers. And now we can get real roast beef sandwiches and not have to deal with the East Coast’s nasty weather, San Diegans really do have the best of both worlds. 

Big Jim’s Roast Beef & Subs is located at 4508 Cass Street, Suite B in Pacific Beach. Hours are Wednesday through Friday, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., Friday through Saturday 11 a.m. to 7 p.m., and Sunday 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.

San Diego Restaurant News & Food Events

After A Year Of Rumors and Speculation, Las Cuatro Milpas Counts Down to Closing

The end was always going to come for Las Cuatro Milpas—the family said so themselves—and that time is nigh. The Barrio Logan property officially sold this week for $2.21 million, according to the San Diego Union-Tribune, and will likely cease operations by the end of the year. 

The past year has been awash with rumors of the restaurant’s imminent closure, originally vehemently denied by the Estudillo family on multiple occasions both online and in-person, but the property’s sale has now been confirmed by the family’s real estate agent Voltaire Lepe. According to the U-T, only the building and adjoining parcel will change hands (not the business name or restaurant itself) to the longtime next door neighbor, Iglesia del Dios Vivo Columna Inc., the controversial Light of the World Church (again, something the family said would not happen). But mounting debts and aging owners leave few options, it would seem.

With so many conflicting narratives of what people wished would happen and what is actually happening, it’s a bit of a bummer how the end is shaking out for this iconic institution. But in the dwindling weeks we have left to enjoy the best beans and tortillas in town, I propose we focus on remembering the amazing 92 years the Estudillos gave San Diego. Take every opportunity you get to grab a taco and thank the ladies behind the counter for their long and tireless service. Las Cuatro Milpas, you will not be forgotten. 

Beth’s Bites

• Crack Taco Shop is slowly, but surely extending its domain across San Diego. The home of the “world famous crack tri-tip taco” (debatable on being world famous, but still tasty) just opened its third location in Encinitas, and is less than a month away from opening its fourth location at 1009 Orange Avenue on Coronado. The group also just announced that they ditched seed oils in favor of olive oil and beef tallow, so if that’s a thing you keep track of, go ahead and add them to your list of seed oil-free restaurants in San Diego. 
• If you’re looking to do some good in the community today, consider grabbing a bite at Just Peachy Market in Encinitas. Owner and father of two, Noberto Ambrosio recently had his immigration case reopened and is expected to appear before an immigration judge on November 25. He and his family posted a message of how they can best be supported, including writing to the judge or emailing the court, continuing to shop at Just Peachy, or even just stopping by with a message of support and solidarity.

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