Author Archives: Pete

Fried Egg & Anchovy – Made at Home

Posted on by

I like anchovies. I like them quite a bit, and I’m a bit bewildered that they’ve got the reputation they do. The chewy fish run right up to the edge of “Mercy, this is too salty” and, in my opinion, stop just short. I think they’re delicious, but they’re not the easiest thing to incorporate into a meal. They’ve got quite an attitude, and they’re prone to standing at the forefront of a dish regardless of where you put them. So while I’m quick to try and incorporate them into a sandwich, the boldness they bring is of particular concern. A good sandwich, as we all know, relies on balance. What could stand against the anchovies? My thoughts quickly turned to eggs. A perfectly fried egg, the yolk warm and runny, is incredibly rich. That seemed like just the thing to balance out the anchovies.

I started with a large roll, spreading roasted garlic across the top and laying a bed of caramelized onions and tomatoes on the bottom. Now, I must admit that I can be a man of appetite and I’m unlikely to open a tin of anchovies then put some aside for later. This was where I first cast restraint aside, reasoning that I had a full tin of anchovies, so they all ought to all go on the sandwich. With that many anchovies, then, I figured that I needed two eggs to achieve the balance I was looking for. That decision, dear readers, would prove to be my undoing.

I like a soft yolk in my fried egg, and so I accept that any fried egg sandwich I make is probably going to be a bit messy. The egg/bacon/avocado breakfast sandwich I wrote about earlier was a bit messy, but the two sandwiches I prepared that day were both tremendous. And that’s the rub, friends. That day two sandwiches, this day one. And the gulf between two fried egg sandwiches and a sandwich with two fried eggs was one I wasn’t capable of crossing. This sandwich was just a complete mess. The roll just couldn’t handle all of that yolk. I was left with hands covered, but afraid that if I put the sandwich down I might never get it back together again. I would like to note that construction aside, this was a good sandwich. The flavors were on point, the richness of the eggs married with the anchovies exactly as well as I suspected it would. But I lost my head in making it, and absent proper restraint I can’t rightfully call this a good sandwich. I tried something and I failed. I learned a few things and I feel my next anchovy sandwich will be absolutely excellent, but there was no excellence here, just a lot of anchovies and a whole mess of egg yolk.

The Wild Wild West – Mr. Pickle’s Sandwich Shop, N. Santa Cruz Ave, Los Gatos, CA

Posted on by

The Wild Wild West at Mr. Pickles is roast beef, ham, horseradish, provolone cheese, and avocado. That’s a list of ingredients I wouldn’t think to put together, but for whatever reason it struck me as the sandwich to get. I’m not going to dwell on that, though, because the story is elsewhere. As is my custom, when the people at Mr. Pickle’s asked me if I wanted everything on my sandwich, I answered in the affirmative. Everything, I learned, was the polar opposite of the inadequate minimalism of The Garret. Here’s what was added to the sandwich: G-Sauce (a garlic sauce of some sort), mayo, mustard, pesto, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions and peppers. Looking at that list, it has a stealthy sort of insanity to it. A quick glance and you might miss it, but dwell on it and you’ll realize that something isn’t quite right. The pesto gives it away. Pesto? Pesto is part of your everything? Pesto is an appropriate addition to all of the sandwiches you sell? That just isn’t reasonable. I respect the right of every sandwich maker to go about their craft as they see fit, but I know where the bounds of propriety lie and I have no problem telling you when you’ve crossed them. Pesto? On everything? Pesto? I just can’t quite get my head around it. The G-Sauce is another red flag. If it were there on its own it would be a risky trademark, but in conjunction with the pesto it signals that someone involved took “everything” far too literally.

But lets ignore, for a moment, the concept at play here. Low-grade lunacy it may be, but is it at least well executed? Sadly, no. The pickles and peppers could best be described as “scattered,” the lettuce and tomato similarly sparse. Do they want these things to be part of the sandwich or not? If they’re going to include them then thought ought include them, instead of telling me they’re going to and then leave me to hunt them down in a sloppy mess. And it was sloppy, whatever the G-Sauce is made of it joined forces with the mayo to send the top half of the sandwich sliding all over the place.  I can respect someone who gives a 3 out of 10 concept everything they have, but there’s no forgiving poor execution of a lousy idea.

This was a weird sandwich. The avocado was completely obliterated. When the horseradish was present the sandwich almost seemed to come together, but then the next bite would be all pesto. The pickles and peppers played similar in-and-out games. I tried to make sense of it, but eventually I just had to throw my hands up. I would like to note, though, that the bread was really, really good. A sourdough roll of unknown provenance, it had a hearty crust and some really great flavor. Even given the racket it played host to, the quality of the bread made for a small redemptive note in an odd, odd symphony.

Savory Chicken Delight – The Garret, Bascom Ave, Campbell, CA

Posted on by

The Savory Chicken Delight is a hell of a name for a sandwich. It’s a lofty claim, an unmistakable boast thrown right at the opening. This isn’t a chicken sandwich, where italicized menu text informs you that it’s a savory chicken breast, grilled to juicy perfection, an instant delight. This isn’t a savory, delightful chicken sandwich. It’s a sandwich so savory, so delightful that it could bear no other name than Savory Chicken Delight.

That was the claim, anyway. The Garret is a menu board sort of establishment, and there was no description of any of the sandwiches. But Savory Chicken Delight, I figured that had to be impressive. When I ordered this sandwich, the person working the counter asked me if I wanted everything on it. Everything, they told me, entailed lettuce, tomato, and mayo. When I got the sandwich I was taken aback, and wondered what on earth I would have gotten had I passed on “everything.” Would it have just been a bun with a bit of chicken on it? In another restaurant, with another sandwich, something like that might be a kind of inspired minimalism. This was just mediocre. A bland piece of chicken on a bland roll, with a few slices of unspectacular tomato and obligatory lettuce. It wasn’t savory, and it surely wasn’t delightful. I’ve had bad sandwiches, but this wasn’t even bad. It wasn’t anything. A sandwich that aims high and misses the mark is an understandable failure. Being reckless with bold flavors is no mortal sin. But why on earth would you bill a sandwich as a savory delight and then serve something so uninspired. It was boring, and boring is a sin I cannot forgive.

Tuna Steak Sandwich – Made at Home

Posted on by

When I went to Ike’s Place, I tried the first sandwich on the menu for a reason. ” In that sandwich,” I wrote, “one often finds the favorite child; The sandwich loved longest, made most often, the sandwich in which someone’s dream begins to take form.” For me, this is that sandwich. Don’t get me wrong, I have no plans to open my own establishment any time soon, having no desire to turn my passion into my business and having no access to capital. But this is my sandwich. It is the sandwich I think of in idle moments, the sandwich that instills me in me a possibility I know I must pursue.

When I spoke of the tuna steak sandwich at Ramsi’s Cafe on the World in Louisville, I made it a point to mention how shameful most of the tuna we eat is. That still stands, one day the tuna fish will be gone and when we are asked about it all we will be able to do is lower our heads and think about how we allowed so magnificent a fish to be associated with such mediocre cuisine. This sandwich is an attempt at something better, a love note to a fish, an attempt to live up to a possibility.

I don’t have it quite right. It’s a good sandwich, probably the best I’ve ever made, but it isn’t quite right. The preparation starts with slices of carrot, about a sixteenth of an inch thick. They go into a marinade of soy sauce, rice vinegar and water (in a 1-1-1 ratio), ginger, toasted garlic, red pepper flakes and a touch of honey. After a few hours in there they come out, and the marinade goes into a skillet to be cooked down.  Similar slices of cucumber are prepared but left unadulterated. Wasabi mayo is prepared, with a strong emphasis on the wasabi. I’m no great fan of mayonnaise. In fact, my attitude might be best characterized as “tolerant.” It has its place, but if you use too much…well, I hope you’re right with the lord, because I’m not likely to forgive you. But I find it unobjectionable as a sort of neutral vehicle for another flavor, and it performed well here. The bread went into a 200 degree oven to really maximize the crisp, although I’m not really sure how much this adds to the final product. Anyhow, the tuna steak is coated on both sides with sesame seeds and black pepper, and it goes into a hot pan for a scant couple of minutes. Cooking tuna for a sandwich is no different than any other application, and as always it’s best to undershoot. After coming out of the pan the fish is cut into quarter inch slices, laid atop the carrots, and finally drizzled with the reduced marinade.

It isn’t quite right. Between the carrots and the sauce there’s too much soy. I still want to get the ginger and the garlic onto the sandwich, but I need to back off the soy somehow. Perhaps the ratios in the marinade can shift, I’m still not sure. I might have gone too heavy on the wasabi, although to be frank I prefer that to going light. The flavor of the fish is well represented in the sandwich, but it’s missing something that would bring the ingredients from combination to harmony. I think a bit more black pepper in the coating will help things come together. But don’t let me run this down! This is a damn fine sandwich, and I only spend so many words pointing out its flaws because I know what it is capable of. This is already the best sandwich I make, and it’s only going to get better.

Carnitas Torta, La Victoria, San Carlos St, San Jose, CA

Posted on by

A carnitas torta from La Victoria taqueria, San Jose

Living in the area that I do, there are a fair number of pretty good establishments serving Mexican food. And the torta, as a class, is a pretty good sandwich. (I’ve previously covered tortas here here and here, though the best I’ve ever had was in Phoenix, not California.) So the combination of two things that are good more often that not gives you a really good shot at getting a sandwich you know will excel. Sadly, La Victoria managed to slip through that narrow window with this disappointing offering. La Victoria’s claim to fame is their orange sauce, a creamy hot sauce that is everything its reputation promises. It is obscenely good, and a healthy dose of it made sure this sandwich was tasty enough. But beyond the sauce, there just wasn’t much there. There was a thin roll, a handful of iceberg lettuce, a few slices of tomato, and a helping of carnitas that might best be described as just on the friendly side of acceptable. If there was avocado in there, it was doing its best to hide from me.

Maybe it’s that Northern California Mexican cuisine is ruled by the burrito, and in many cases the torta appears on the menu as an afterthought. Perhaps La Victoria thought they could skate by on what is admittedly superb sauce, and they just didn’t pay their torta much mind. Well that’s too bad, because even simple sandwiches deserve an honest effort, and the people who eat them deserve a better sandwich than this.

Bánh Mì (BBQ Pork) – Cam Hung, Reed Ave, Sunnyvale, CA

Posted on by

The BBQ Pork banh mi from Cam Hung in Sunnyvale, CA

Bánh mì is Vietnamese for “sandwich,” more or less.  There are scads of different varieties, all of which have their own name I would doubtlessly butcher in trying to pronounce. This is a fairly small problem, though, as the vast majority of Vietnamese sandwich shops are kind enough to display names in English as well as Vietnamese. The problem is that the categories the sandwiches are slotted into are too wide. Bánh mì thịt nướng is my preferred sandwich, the one featured at the top as The Finest Sandwich, and the one I am forever searching for. But that gets translated most frequently as BBQ Pork or Grilled Pork, and within those categories there are numerous variations in both recipe and cut of meat. I’m very rarely disappointed, but excepting The Finest Sandwich, I never find quite what I’m looking for.

And that’s how it was at Cam Hung. This was a tasty sandwich, don’t get me wrong, but the thin slices of pork were a far cry from the substantial, chewy pieces I had hoped for. The roll could have been a bit crustier though, but that’s as far as my complaining can go. This was a fine sandwich, with the wonderful flavor I so love. The marinade brings a savory base, with layers of garlic and fish sauce, in between which plays a distinct sweetness. A healthy portion of jalapeño on top covers the heat nicely, and carrots and daikon radish brought a nice contrast to the soft pork.  Inherent uncertainty aside, ordering a pork  bánh mì rarely goes wrong, and this time was no exception.

Eggs & Bacon on a Bialy – Top Grill & Deli, Bayside, NY

Posted on by

2 eggs and bacon on a bialy

Some time ago I featured the humble two eggs & bacon on a roll, the standard of New York breakfast sandwiches. In that review I mentioned that there was something distinctly New York about that sandwich to me, in that hackneyed oh-they-don’t-make-it-properly-here-not-like-at-home sort of way. Well, my friends, I’m going to return to that shameful stance again, because two eggs & bacon on a bialy feels even more distinctly New York than the standard roll. Cousin to the bagel, a bialy skips the boiling and goes straight to the baking, and simple has a dip where the bagel has a hole. Fill the dip with diced onion, garlic and poppy seeds and you have a wonderful base for a sandwich. They’re not solely confined to New York, but it seems like finding them elsewhere is like something of a snipe hunt, a quest from bagel store to bakery that has thus far been fruitless for yours truly. But, I suppose, that makes the times I find myself in the right territory all the more worthwhile. That’s how it was with this sandwich, a delicious, salty, chewy, and perfect way to start the day.

Chicken Parmigiana Hero – Shackleton’s, Hempstead Tpk, Franklin Square, NY

Posted on by

Shackleton’s is a fairly standard pub, in an unspectacular part of Long Island. The menu features nothing that demands to be sampled, and while there’s a tasty beer or two, the selection is less than superb. And, as you might expect from that kind of establishment, the sandwich was, well, tasty enough. It was fried fresh, which is a pass/fail sort of quality, the sauce was fine. The only real downside is that the bread, billed as a garlic hero, doesn’t really carry much garlic flavor. It’s there, somewhere, but as someone who likes a heavy dose of garlic, I was disappointed. There wasn’t too much cheese. Like I said, it was tasty enough.

But let us consider this for a moment, the idea of good enough. This, I think, is one of the more wonderful things about sandwiches: most of them are pretty good. They aren’t hard to make, there are a substantial number of established classic forms you can work with, and in the end you’re more likely to get a good result than a bad one. It’s the best of all things. A hot dog is easy to make, but there isn’t much going on. A full meal can be delicious, but there’s a good amount of work involved. A sandwich, though, is a simple route to fine things. Thanks to the sandwich, I could enter a fairly ordinary bar on an ugly stretch of road and know that I was probably going to come away satisfied. “Most sandwiches are good” might seem like a tepid, pedestrian sort of insight, but think about it. I ate a sandwich today. I went in knowing that my life was probably going to be a bit better off for having eaten it, and I was right. I put it to you that that is no small thing, and that sandwiches can bring us these things is something for which we should be very grateful.

The Rip Taylor – Hamilton’s Tavern, 30th St, San Diego, CA

Posted on by

The "Rip Taylor" grilled cheese sandwich at Hamilton's Tavern in San Deigo, CA

The menu at Hamilton’s boasts a fair number of grilled cheese sandwiches, a number of which look tasty. Only one, though, contains a note. Beneath the description of the Rip Taylor (slow roasted pulled chicken, pesto, red onion, tomato and provalone) is the following: “Don’t be surprised if you win $1.98 and get showered with confetti upon ordering.” Unable to resist, I ordered the Rip Taylor. Well, I received no monetary reward and the celebration of my order was minimal, but I did get a damn fine sandwich. The nicest thing here, and this is exceedingly rare for obvious reasons, was that the emphasis in this grilled cheese was on the chicken rather than the cheese. (If you click through the above photo, you can see the emphasis for yourself.) If a purist wanted to castigate this sandwich for betraying the spirit of a grilled cheese, I wouldn’t put up much of an argument. But I’m no great fan of cheese and so I was quite pleased with the sandwich. The chicken was tender and juicy, the red onion a welcome spice. It could have used more pesto, but anything lacking in this sandwich was covered by the bread. The sandwich came on rosemary sourdough, buttered and grilled. It was outstanding. Strong rosemary flavor and a strong buttery crunch to match. A grilled cheese sandwich can easily go wrong, but I’m happy to say that by underplaying the lead, Hamilton’s has pulled off an outstanding example of the genre.

Chorizo & Refried Black Beans – Made at Home

Posted on by

A chorizo and refried black beans sandwich, made at home.

I’ve had a can of refried black beans in my cupboard for some time now, and as I do with a great many food stuffs I periodically considered how they might best fit into a sandwich. The fine people at Scanwiches posted a particularly choice sandwich some time back, with black beans prominently featured. I wanted to take a crack at the idea, but wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. Finding a substantial piece of chorizo in the market one day proved to be enough to see my idea through. Refried beans may not be pretty, but black beans are the finest of all beans. Combine them with some sausage, I reasoned, would be a real hit. I brought along red onion and red bell pepper for a bit of snap, and a few thin slices of Oaxaca cheese finished things off.

I’m pleased to say I wasn’t wrong, though as you can see by the above my execution could have used a little work. The sandwiches were a little messy, with refried beans coming out of the side at points, and a red onion or two escaping here and there. The sandwich did pass the final test for messy vs. too messy, though. I was able to put the sandwich down for a minute, then easily pick it back up and resume eating. If something can’t survive a minute’s rest or a shift of the hands, it’s time to reevaluate the sandwich. But this did just fine, and despite the sloppiness was pretty tasty. The chorizo, pan seared then poached in a bit of wine, was spicy, full of delicious fatty juices. The black beans brought an earthy note to things, the bell peppers sweetness and the red onion a bit of bite. The cheese wasn’t lost, but it was definitely playing in the background. That’s why I like Oaxaca cheese. It’s light, unwilling and unable to take over the rest of a sandwich. There are some things I might do differently next time. A thicker roll could be hollowed out a bit, giving the beans a distinct position to hold. The red onion could stand to be sautéed, taking the bite down just a touch. But even without those changed, I was pretty pleased with how this came out. It was a fine sandwich I can recommended to you without reservations.