Best Panini Presses of 2026

Five cooking settings reads like catalog filler until the Sunday when one person wants a panini, another wants a burger, and there's a bowl of pancake batter left over. The Griddler FIVE does all three: contact grill closed, full grill or full griddle open flat, and a half-and-half setting for the nights when two people want different dinners. Opened flat it takes eight burgers at once, and each plate holds its own temperature, so the pancakes don't have to wait for the burgers to come off.

That range is why it's the press we point to when the panini maker is also going to be the indoor grill. The digital panel runs from 175 to 450 degrees with a SearBlast burst for crust, and the fit and finish is a step up from the budget presses here — the plates seat squarely, the drip tray slides without a fight. Our one reservation is evenness: the plates run hotter toward the edges than in the center, which shows up on a full griddle of pancakes far more than on a sandwich pinned under the lid.

The plates reverse from ridged grill to flat griddle, release with a button, and go in the dishwasher, which is the biggest quality-of-life difference between this and a fixed-plate press — escaped cheese gets washed off instead of wiped at. The drip tray comes out too, and the warranty runs three years, as long as any press here.

It's a large appliance, and it needs headroom under the cabinet to open flat. Set that against what it replaces: a griddle, a grill, and a sandwich press are three separate things it does in one footprint.

A sandwich with three inches of filling is a structural problem. The lid comes down, the top plate tips on its hinge, and one end of the bread takes all the pressure while the other end gapes. Breville's fix is to stop the top plate where you want it: the Duo's lid holds at a range of heights above the bottom plate, so a fat chicken-and-pepper sandwich gets pressed from the top instead of squashed into a wedge.

The plates are flat rather than ridged, and that's the other half of why this one browns so well. Flat plates sit against more of the bread, so you get an even golden surface instead of stripes with pale valleys between them. What you give up is the cafe look, and if dark grill marks are the point for you, one of the ridged presses here will make them.

It's the press for the cook whose sandwich is the meal rather than the snack — the one layering leftovers and a fried egg between focaccia. It's 1,500 watts and comes to heat quickly, the hinge floats so a thin quesadilla still makes contact, and a locking clip plus a rear foot let it stand upright in a cabinet. In a kitchen where the press lives on a shelf, that last part matters more than any spec.

Eight pounds is heavy for a press this size, and you feel it in the hand: the steel body doesn't flex when you lean on the lid, and the hinge moves with a weight that suggests it will outlast the plastic-shelled presses here. It's the one we keep for the sandwiches we actually care about.

Three years is the longest warranty on any press here, and it sits on one of the least expensive ones. That tells you how Proctor Silex expects this to be used: daily, for years, with a grilled cheese in it after school and a Reuben on a Sunday.

Seventy square inches takes two thick sandwiches or one long one, and the floating lid presses them without a lever or a lock to fiddle with. At 1,000 watts it isn't the hottest press here, but it comes up to heat quickly and browns bread cleanly, and the ceramic coating releases a melted-cheese spill in one piece. It's PFAS-free, which is a detail worth having on a surface that runs hot under your food.

Where it earns its counter space is storage. The lid latches shut, so it can stand on its side between the toaster and the wall, and the whole thing is under four inches tall closed. The drip tray slides out and goes in the dishwasher, which handles the grease that runs off a burger.

It suits small households — one or two people who want a hot sandwich without a machine that takes over the counter. Heat is the one place it asks patience: give the plates a full preheat until the indicator cycles, because the first sandwich off a cold press browns lighter than the second. That's a small habit to build for a press that disappears into a slot afterward.

A temperature dial and a timer change what a panini press is for. With the Chefman 5-in-1 you set a number, watch the countdown, and get the same sandwich on Tuesday that you got on Saturday, which is the whole argument for spending midrange money on a press. It's the one here for cooks who work by temperature instead of by eye.

The plates are the other reason it earns its place. They come off with a button, reverse from ridged grill to flat griddle, and go in the dishwasher along with the drip tray. Open it flat and the griddle side handles pancakes, eggs, and a pile of grilled onions; close it and the ridges press a panini. The adjustable hinge takes a sandwich piled as high as you're willing to build it.

Two things to weigh before you commit. The digital panel means a control board, and a control board is the part that eventually quits. It's also a bigger machine than the compact presses — roughly a foot square, with a lid that needs room to swing. What you get for that is a flat side that turns the press into a breakfast griddle, and a flat plate is easier to scrape clean than a ridged one.

If your counter is a cutting board, a coffee maker, and whatever else fits, the small press is the one that actually gets used. The Chefman Compact is 12 inches wide and four pounds, so it lives on a shelf and comes down when someone wants a grilled cheese — no permanent counter real estate required.

The 5-1/2 by 8-3/4-inch surface is sold as a two-sandwich press; in practice it takes one good-sized sandwich, which is exactly what a single cook needs and exactly what a couple will find frustrating. It's the right press for one-person households, dorm rooms, and offices for that reason, and it's the one we suggest to anyone with one counter and no room for a second appliance.

What it does, it does well. It opens to 180 degrees for a small grill of chicken or vegetables, the hinge floats so a stuffed sandwich gets pressed rather than crushed, and the nonstick plates wipe clean once they've cooled. Where it surprised us is grease: the feet tilt the plates back so the fat runs to a drain instead of pooling under the bread, and the tray slides out to be rinsed.

The most expensive press here is barely a panini press. The Sear and Press is a 240-square-inch indoor grill that happens to close, and if sandwiches are all you make, it's more machine than you need. If you want one thing on the counter for paninis, steaks, and a Sunday of pancakes on a flat top, nothing else here does all three as well.

Open flat, the two ceramic plates run at independent temperatures — a steak on one side and vegetables on the other, or pancakes held warm on the griddle while the next round cooks. The plates reverse from ridged to flat, pop out for the dishwasher, and the Panini, Burger, and Sear presets take the guesswork out of the first minute. Waffle plates exist for it, but they're sold separately.

We recommend it to the household that was going to buy an indoor grill anyway and wants the sandwich capability in the same box, which is where the price stops feeling like a stretch. As a grill it's genuinely good: hot enough for burgers and big enough for eight of them with room to work a spatula.

The rest is housekeeping. The plates come out and go in the dishwasher and residue lifts without a soak, which makes it the easiest cleanup of any press here. Breville covers it for two years, longer than most of this group, and it's the one appliance here that would genuinely replace three.

There's a meat probe in the box, which is an odd thing to find with a panini press and a useful thing to find with a contact grill. The probe stays in the food while it cooks and reports the internal temperature on the display, so a thick chicken breast gets checked without being cut open and losing its juice to the pan.

Underneath the gadgetry it's a competent 1,600-watt contact grill: reversible nonstick plates that come off for washing, five settings, a folding bracket so it opens flat, and a digital readout for temperature and time. It heats fast, cooks evenly, and a grilled sandwich comes off it with clean stripes and no scorched corner.

What it doesn't have is a track record. This is the newest design here and the thinnest history behind it — the control board that runs the probe and the timer is the part no one can vouch for yet. Nothing about the build feels cheap; it's simply unproven in a way the Breville and Cuisinart machines aren't.

The flat setting is what earns it a spot: pancakes, bacon, and a griddle full of eggs on a Sunday, then folded shut for a panini on Monday, with two plates that come off and rinse clean in between.