Pane cunzato, dressed bread in Sicilian, is defined by the dressing rather than by any filling stacked into it. A whole loaf of crusty country bread, often still warm, is split and then cunzato, seasoned: a hard pour of good olive oil over the open crumb, crushed ripe tomato, dried oregano, salted anchovy, and a few slices or shavings of a sharp local cheese, usually a primosale or caciocavallo. The bread is the subject and the dressing is the entire event. There is no protein in the deli sense and nothing cooked to order; the technique is simply oiling and seasoning a good loaf at the moment it is split, and the warmth of the bread is what pulls the oil and anchovy salt into the crumb.
The craft is the bread, the timing of the oil, and restraint. The loaf has to be a real crusty country bread with an open, slightly chewy crumb, because the whole point is that the crumb drinks the oil and the tomato juice without going to mush, and the oil is poured generously while the bread still holds oven warmth so it soaks rather than sits on top. The tomato is crushed by hand so its juice runs in, the oregano is rubbed so it releases, and the anchovy is laid sparingly because it is the loudest thing in the sandwich and a little of it salts the whole loaf. The cheese is thin so it does not turn the bread into a meal of its own. Nothing else is wanted; pane cunzato is a loaf seasoned well and eaten promptly, while the oil-soaked crumb is still warm and the contrast with the crust is sharpest.
The named turns stay in Sicily and lead on the town's own dressing: the Catania version with its local hand, and the Scopello build that leans on tuna, capers, and tomato. Each of those is the same dressed-bread idea argued with a different larder, and each deserves its own article rather than being crowded in here.