13 Must-Try Toppings for Your Fried Pork Tenderloin Sandwich

Midwesterners are proud to claim the fried pork tenderloin as their own. The deep-fried frisbee of a sandwich recalls the German schnitzel, with only a hamburger bun hoisting its floppy girth. Although its popularity spans states, the best pork tenderloin sandwiches tend to be linked to Indiana. This could be because they were (likely) invented there. At the turn of the century, a dining room by the name of Nick’s Kitchen supposedly dredged the first cutlet of its kind in the Hoosier State 

In the purist camp, slathering on condiment after condiment would be viewed as a desecration of the sandwich’s simple foundation. Yet among plenty of fans, the limits of garnishing are virtually unheard of. As the owner of Goldie’s Ice Cream Shoppe in Prairie City, Iowa (awarded the Hawkeye State’s best tenderloin in 2009), Brad Magg has witnessed the everything-goes approach to fixing up the Hoosier classic. “Pork tenderloins are like pizza,” Magg notes. “There are not many things that are bad on them, but everyone’s preferences can vary greatly.”

In our opinion, the comparison rings true. After conversing with experts who’ve perfected the specialty, Chowhound can confirm there are many toppings fit for adorning this unique, breaded behemoth. Some choices might befuddle readers, but the method to the madness will be clear in our explanations. Step things up with these 13 tasty ideas. 

No other sandwich condiment elicits an emphatic “duh” as much as classic ketchup. The sweetly-acidic red stuff is undeniably the default spread for burgers (as for hot dogs, some people think you never should mix the two). Considering it’s the dip-de-jour for chicken nuggets or French fries, reaching for a bottle to dress up craggy-coated nibbles is the expected move in most circles. Ask most Heartlanders at their diner of choice, and they’ll reach for the Heinz bottle time and time again.

Goldie’s Brad Magg has a soft spot for ketchup on fried pork tenderloins, but with onions, the two add-ons merge towards perfection. The restauranteur explained how the ingredients compliment one another with their distinct acidity and sweetness. “For some reason, the fondness of the zesty and crispy onion and tangy ketchup has stuck with me as an adult,” says Magg. Finely slice the alliums into slivers (we’d go with yellow or red) and put them on the sandwich cold.

Maybe it’s not the most out-there recommendation to stuff within the bun — assuming a UFO-sized cutlet allows the space. But when you consider how much of a crowd-pleaser ketchup and onions are, that certainly counts for something. 

Newcomers to the breaded pork tenderloin (BPT for those in the know) ought not feel cowed by the possible garnishes on the docket. If you’re really lost on what to top your breaded pork with, imitating another distinctly all-American sammie will fit the bill. To “top their crispy pork goodness the same way they would a hamburger” is how Brad Magg instructs going about things, and we know what accompaniments will set the table. Lettuce and tomato are fool-proof on a hamburger, and draping them on a fried pork tenderloin offers a refreshing crispness. With a smear of mayonnaise, it’s the prototype for how watering holes dish them up throughout Indiana.

Joanie Howard, the proprietor of Grains & Grill in Fairmount, Indiana, reports a simplicity favored by citizens in the region, so opting for these fresh enhancements won’t distract from the hulking weight of the breaded tenderloin. If anything, it’s mimicking the cooling sensations of a California-style drive-thru burger. Grab a head of iceberg lettuce and tear off the bigger leaves to adorn your tenderloin. You can mince the greens into shreds to really reinforce the crunch. The tomato can be sliced into thin medallions, and stacked prior to placing on the lettuce. 

From overseeing the clientele at Oasis Diner in Plainfield, Indiana, Doug Huff can back one nose-curling condiment: garlic mayo. In his estimation, the fried pork tenderloin earns bonus points with customers when smeared with the spread, as the sharp, umami elements compliment the pork’s no-frills taste. “Pretty standard toppings seem to be the favorites, but the garlic mayo gives it a little extra pizazz,” he says. Mind you, it’s not the same as aioli (made of garlic and oil), but the pungency is equally pleasing. 

Making the sauce by hand won’t involve much preparation, especially for hobbyist cooks. The ingredients to whisk it together from scratch (mayonnaise, and of course, garlic) are probably in your kitchen as we speak. Press or mince a few cloves of garlic, and toss the crumbles into the mayo of your choosing. You could opt for powdered garlic in a pinch (like tree sap, garlic’s sticky residue likes to cling), but the acidic punch that’s expected will be a bit tamer. Sprinkle a little salt for flavor, and don’t forget to squeeze a tiny bit of lemon juice to lighten the spread. We’d zhuzh it up by spreading it on the bottom and top of the sandwich. 

Chili is an extra-savory booster on hot dogs. But it’s perfection on a sandwich as austere as the fried pork tenderloin. It’s full of protein thanks to beans and ground meat, while the seasonings infuse a strong kick to wake the sinuses. In Des Moines, Iowa, where Smitty’s Tenderloin Shop resides, the restaurant douses on “a generous ladle of chili” for one of the signature sandwiches, according to Ben Smith. 

Slather your breaded cutlet with homemade chili for best results. In our opinion, simmering your own batch of the stuff — maybe a Spicy Slow Cooker Beef Chili – allows control over the elements of the dish, which you’ll never get in chili cans at the store. And for seasonings, chefs go full throttle on the spice cabinet’s full range. Besides salt and pepper, spices like cumin, chipotle, chili powder, and mustard are among the enhancements cooks heap into the one-pot meal. Flavor is everything, so frequent sampling is crucial if you want to avoid a bland pot. 

Between the meaty stew and the sandwich’s unwieldy edges, there’ll undeniably be messes to reckon with. But stock up on the napkins, and indulging in the fried pork tenderloin to remember reduces every dribbled stain to an afterthought. 

Don’t reduce your coleslaw to another tub forgotten at the picnic table. If you want to look beyond the limitations of side-saddling your ribs, nestling the mass between your fried pork tenderloin sandwich is worth your consideration. Our rationale involves the much-needed brightness that the shredded mix contributes. Tangy and vinegar-y flourishes, especially in vegetables, lend some lightness to a feast that’s heavier on the gut. Arguably, this contrast is what the Hoosier dish deserves to retain its deliciousness, one jaw-testing bite at a time. 

The basic premise of coleslaw is mixing minced cabbage and carrots with a dressing. Mayonnaise works as a binder because it’s creamy and thick, but from examining other recipes, the side dish is incredibly receptive to other condiments. Assemble a vinaigrette with balsamic or apple cider vinegar to infuse a zingy element. Lean into the pungency with a touch of brown mustard, or incorporate heat by shaking in paprika or cayenne powder. Other mix-ins to elevate your coleslaw include raisins and apples, which add pop, as well as invite a different kind of crunch to offset the starchy crust of the sandwich.  

Are toppings obligated to always push the envelope? Not in the slightest. As it stands, a deep-fried piece of pork isn’t difficult to dress up. Expending Einstein-esque brainpower to enhance it could be time spent relishing its greasy goodness, and we want garnishes that don’t take a lot to deliver. Enter hot sauce. Everyone has their favorite bottle to lend a little kick to chicken salad or to pep up avocado toast, and a couple splashes on your fried tenderloin will throttle your sandwich with a novel complexity. Seconds is all the time that liquid fire needs to seep into your brittle pork hunk.

Browsing the hot sauce brands that are actually worthy of your pantry space, you’ll notice they tend to ascribe to the same ingredients. Most are manufactured with vinegar, water, some kind of pepper, and a blitz of seasoning agents, which means adding some zip to your sandwich is a piece of cake. All the enhancements in the mix– could be garlicky, cayenne-forward, or dosed with habanero — have mingled together, clearing the way for instant heat. Dab it on, a little or a lot, to see the light. 

Pork tenderloins, at their core, amount to homogenous brownness. The minute they’re dredged in crushed Saltines signals to the diner that bread-y excess is the dominating force. Salt, maybe a smidge of black pepper in the crust, may came through, but that’s about all you get. What this gives us, though, is a blank foundation. The canvas, as minimal as it is, is able to support striking flavors that serve as the perfect accents. Horseradish, then, is just the explosive twist your tenderloin craves. The root is a close cousin to wasabi and mustard, so if you adore their creeping sting, you’ll find it serves a similar purpose. 

When you dine out at a restaurant, the raw paste may be served on the side due to its strength, so keeping your application even-keeled pays off. Those who crave an adventure can grate it directly on the pork, though don’t underestimate the tingling sensation that can sneak up on you. If you like Arby’s roast beef sandwiches, horseradish composes a major aspect of Horsey Sauce. Blend into mayonnaise and follow it with a splash of vinegar and mustard to nail the legendary fast food sauce at home. 

When talking tenderloin, the merits of cheese and bacon were regularly agreed on by our experts. And why wouldn’t they be? After all, the gooey dairy and fatty strips of pork forge a savory union in just about every fast food application (hello, bacon cheeseburgers). “We get a lot of guests that add American cheese and bacon, which definitely raises the bar,” according to Doug Huff at Oasis Diner. Doubling down on the pork seems extreme, but so, too, is the pork tenderloin an extreme sandwich. 

Joanie Howard of Grains & Grill champions one of the restaurant’s tenderloin variants affixed with the cured strips, coleslaw for crunch, and a runny egg. The cheese melted on top? A classic slice of sharp, velvety cheddar. Other types of cheeses are sure to deliver similarly delicious results, so feel free to tailor the variety, flexing it to fit your mood. Kim Mitchell, the owner of Snaps, points to a spicier pick that’s frequently served at her acclaimed restaurant in Jasper, Indiana, and that’s Pepper Jack. Since it’s manufactured with bursts of chili pepper and seasonings already, it’s a cheese that’s always a great choice for lending edge. We can also envision a rich gouda to bounce off the bacon’s smokiness. 

Packing smokiness and sweetness, barbecue sauce is great for instantly elevating your breaded tenderloin. The glaze imparts a warm, peppery heat to whatever it’s drizzled on, while soothing the palate thanks to its sugary character. Assuming you slow-roast your own meats to make excellent pulled pork sandwiches, applying the sauce to fried pork isn’t much of a digression. The combo is particularly exceptional when you have a high-quality sauce in your arsenal. Drizzling commonly green-lit choices like Sweet Baby Ray’s (just one example of the best grocery store barbecue sauces) would gel spectacularly with the craggy cut. 

Do you prefer the mustard-y sting of Carolina gold or a smoothly runny Kansas City? Since barbecue sauces across the U.S. are so distinct, it’s recommended to play off each of the sauce’s unique profiles. You’re welcome to squirt on as much as you like — there are no rules to the sandwich game. But for neatness’ sake, we wouldn’t look past spreading it on the bun first. The tenderloin is a beast, and the bewildering circumference, while part of the draw, isn’t exactly forgiving in the face of stickier dressings. 

In ordinary culinary circumstances, jalapenos are a fun extra. On a tenderloin, they’ll offer dimension and unleash some necessary oomph. The fiery chili peppers are a staple in party foods, from nachos and deli heroes to footlong hot dogs, and for good reason, too: they require no effort in infusing a briny burn. In that case, spice fanatics pining for that in their battered pork shouldn’t hesitate to pile ’em on. On a tenderloin, they’ll offer dimension and unleash some necessary oomph.

When we asked Oasis Diner co-owner Doug Huff about any adornments he felt upped the ante on the pork tenderloin, jalapenos emerged quickly. He pointed to the peppers as a common request. “Some might add jalapenos to spice it up a bit,” he says. On the heat scale, jalapeños are definitely not the scariest of the bunch, which may be good (or bad) news depending on your spice tolerance. And as far as jarred or fresh jalapenos go, neither form will deprive your handheld of tongue-lashing capsaicin.

The pattern of sweat-inducing garnishes is definitely noticeable here. But to relinquish the edge from your pork tenderloin? Now, that’s a disservice. 

When it’s a sandwich you’re dealing with, mustard and pickles aren’t a pairing that ever go out of style. Handhelds, particularly of the crumb-battered strain, benefit mightily from their blend of acidity and sourness. It’s precisely the mouth-puckering zip that earns a spot on our list. A fun fact? Iowan tenderloins traditionally go hard on this duo — just add onions and voila, your sandwich earns immediate approval from the Hawkeye State.

Snaps in Jasper, Indiana demonstrates an affinity for the spicier end of the gherkin spectrum. “The pickle we use is a jalapeno brined pickle chip, reveals Kim Mitchell, the eatery’s owner, elaborating that the flame-fueled pepper juice “just gives it a little kick.” If you prefer sweeter undertones, a nice dill or bread and butter style are piquant while still preserving balance in the rest of the handheld. Tangy yellow mustards are typically the norm, though in theory, brown mustard could also accomplish that feat of earthy umami-ness. It’s a no-brainer. The crisp snap of the pickles is a welcome contrast to the crackly breading, with the yellow mustard providing extra back-up to the chorus of flavors. 

Let’s topple the notion that ketchup and mayo are the only acceptable frills. Ever heard of Poutine? It’s a cherished plate in the Canadian provinces, with a similar copy found on the East Coast (referred to as “Disco fries”).What’s not to like about French fries, stacked and smothered in a torrent of cheese curds and brown gravy? Such concoctions attain a heavenly reputation reserved for the finest of edible comforts, especially when accompanied with a beer. One thing it shares in common with the Hoosier tenderloin is its proximity to dive-y watering holes. In this respect, the appetizer’s adoption into the topping world remains unsurprising. 

Dumping on an indulgent gravy might sound extreme to tenderloin purists. But everything about its hearty ways is complimentary to the Midwestern staple, and deserves at least one go-around as a sandwich-topper. Think about it: how much different is it, really, from a chicken fried steak? When you frame it this way, you’ll wonder why gravy boats aren’t as ubiquitous as French’s mustard. Goldie’s Ice Cream Shoppe slings the innovation now and then, but there’s no limit to attempting the combo at home. 

Green chiles are celebrated in Southwestern cooking, imbuing a pleasant zing to the region’s cuisine. These peppers are milder in taste, yet there’s a hint of zest that always seems to creep up on the tongue. They used to pack a heftier punch, but as Whetstone Magazine reports, the breed underwent some genetic tweaks to blunt the harsher mouthfeel, thereby increasing their utility in everyday dining settings. You’re probably familiar with Hatch chiles, which are one variant of the same green peppers. Is there a distinction? There is: only farmers in New Mexico can grow Hatch chiles. 

Easy to find, diced green chiles often appear in plates ranging from enchiladas to empanadas. The logic, then, of harnessing extra kick in a meat-centric dish relates undeniably to the fried pork tenderloin. Pork is a proven foil to green sauces (as seen in recipes like Pork Chile Verde), so achieving a similar effect — in sandwich form — only makes sense. Having a can on hand cuts the labor in half, too. It doesn’t take much more work than cranking off the lid, draining the juices, and spooning the desired amount for a Santa Fe-approved spin.