One’s options for food in airports might charitably be called “woeful.” Fast food, overpriced, overcooked hamburgers in pseudo-sportsbars, it just isn’t a friendly scene for your average sandwich enthusiast. I was surprised, then, to happen upon Klein’s Deli. Formerly a standby in the Portero Hill section of San Francisco, Klein’s has apparently taken up residence in two locations inside San Francisco airport. With their roster of sandwiches named after notable women of the 20th century, I thought I might finally happen upon a good airport sandwich. I ordered the Piaf, the legendary singer transmogrified into roast beef, cream cheese, horseradish, dill pickle and tomatoes on light rye. There will come a day when I bring you a report of an amazing airport sandwich. That is not today. The Piaf is a decent sandwich. It’s a fine concept; roast beef, cream cheese and horseradish would nicely compliment each other if deployed in the right proportion. That’s the issue, though, isn’t it? Cream cheese isn’t bold in flavor but it is perfectly capable of drowning out other notes, and there simply wasn’t enough horseradish here to stand up to it. The few thin slices of pickles also weren’t up to the task at hand. This could have been a really great sandwich, in a perfect world you’d see tender, in-house roasted beef, and enough horseradish to let you know it was there. But this isn’t a perfect world, and the sandwich I got, while tasty enough, just wasn’t that great.
Author Archives: Pete
Pork Shoulder on Coco Bread – Made at Home
Between this sandwich and the earlier Pork Shoulder with Mojo Sauce, I’m beginning to consider slow-cooking pork shoulders for the sole purpose of making sandwiches out of the leftovers. When reheated in a skillet the pork becomes wonderfully crisp around the edges and in thinner pieces, presenting a wonderfully tasty backbone for a sandwich. I paired it with caramelized onions to contrast the spice of the pork, plenty of real, true avocado, and a bit of cilantro. I had baked up a batch of Coco bread, a sweet bread popular in Jamaican cuisine. What makes Coco bread so well suited for a sandwich like this is not just the sweetness, but also the softness and lack of crust. Assertive crust has its place, but on a sandwich like this you want the bread to give way straight to the pork, your star attraction. Coco bread did just that, completing a fine, fine sandwich.
Turkey & Avocado – Zino’s Deli, Bascom Ave, San Jose, CA
Last week, when discussing the California Fresh from Le Boulanger, I called the paltry amount of avocado a “serious flaw.” If that was a serious flaw, I don’t know what to call what I got from Zino’s. Judging by the sign in the parking lot, this was previously a Quizno’s. When I saw this, I thought to myself, “Well that’s interesting. An establishment that’s broken away from the larger chain.” After eating there, I have come to realize it is less likely that they broke away and more that they were jettisoned. I ordered my sandwich, and as is customary at this type of eatery, moved down the counter to the toppings. It was there that I stood and watched something unfold that was nothing less than horrifying. The man standing in front of me picked up a plastic bag filled with some manner of green substance, halfway between a cream and a paste, and he squeezed the bag so as to collect this substance near the corner of the bag that had been snipped off. Surely this was not the avocado? The menu board had pictures of avocados on it! My attention shifted as I saw my sandwich come out of the conveyor toaster. There was a layer of cheese on it, with that sheen that sandwich shop toasted cheese always has. I can’t say the cheese was a surprise, the sandwich industry as a whole is very fond of cheese, but on top of the cheese were black olives. Olives, like a great many food items, have their place on a sandwich. But no one had asked me if I wanted olives. Further, I was standing in front of the toppings. Where had the olives come from? Why would they be stored separate from the other items? Things were going bad with some speed, and soon enough my greatest fears were confirmed. The man at the topping station took my sandwich, squeezed his bag, and laid a zig-zag stripe of green mystery down. He looked up at me and asked me what else I wanted. Shell-shocked, I believe I muttered something along the lines of “red onions, I guess…bell peppers…lettuce and tomato, sure.”
As my sandwich was being wrapped up, I considered walking out. Everything I know about sandwiches was telling me that I was in for it. I am a sandwich enthusiast, I am not a professional and I do not share the obligations of a professional. Still, the sandwich was now prepared and ready to be eaten, and how could I come before you and condemn it if I was unwilling to eat it?
This was a lousy sandwich. There was entirely much mayonnaise on both sides of the bread, and again, I was not consulted on that. If I were I might have suggested a substitution of mustard, but apparently Zino’s knows better. The so-called avocado was dreadfully bland, the cheese was unnecessary, the bread hardly even worth considering. I can usually find at least some element of any sandwich that I enjoy, but there was nothing here. This was just a lousy sandwich.
California Fresh – Le Boulanger, Lincoln Ave, San Jose, CA
The California Fresh fro Le Boulanger is another fairly straightforward sandwich. Turkey breast, lettuce & tomato, red onion, avocado, mayonnaise and Dijon mustard come together on a dutch crunch roll. Sadly, the sandwich came up short on that last mark, containing what I would estimate to be not even half of an avocado. The avocado is a standard part of nearly every sandwich named for the Golden State, to skimp on it seems to me to misunderstand the basic premise of the sandwich. There was an abundance of mayonnaise, however, perhaps making the absurd suggestion that all forms of ‘creaminess’ are equal. A sandwich this generic couldn’t overcome this flaw, I thought, and as I ate I began mentally writing a negative review. As I continued, though, I was forced to reconsider my first impression. The dutch crunch roll, baked locally but not in-store, was outstanding. It had a hearty crust, the customary slightly sweet flavor, and had enough body to declare itself but not so much that it becomes a bread sandwich. The lack of avocado is a serious issue, and the rest of the sandwich is nothing special, but carried solely on the strength of a fine, fine roll, I would have to say this was a very good sandwich.
Friday’s Special – The Sandwich Place, Mission St, San Francisco, CA
The Friday’s Special from the sandwich place is a fairly straightforward sandwich. Beer battered fillet of sole, homemade tartar sauce, red onions and mixed greens drizzled with balsamic and olive oil. Where the sandwich really excelled was in the execution; The fillet was fresh-fried, meaning it still had some crisp to it. On far too many sandwiches the breading & frying is done so far ahead of time that by the time you eat it things are downright soggy. The sandwich could have used a few more onions and a bit more balsamic, a little bit more zing would have filled things out nicely. I must say it was nice to see a sandwich special that didn’t feature cheese. I go back and forth in my thoughts on cheese, and a lot of times it feels as if the cheese is compulsory. Not so at The Sandwich Place, it seems. Cheese wasn’t going to help this sandwich as so they left it out. Good show! On the whole, this was a fine sandwich.
The so-called “Italian Beef Beer Bread” – Four Peaks Brewery, E 8th St, Tempe, AZ
A wrap masquerading as a sandwich. Sickening.
This is, sadly, familiar territory. This is the listing from the Four Peaks Brewery menu: “Lean roast beef with sautéed red onion, green peppers, mushrooms mozzarella and garlic honey mayo rolled in our fresh baked beer bread.” I cannot tell you how disappointed I was when the above was brought to my table.
I am left wondering who is to blame. It was only in going back and preparing to write this post that I actually noticed those words. “Rolled in.” In the poor lighting of the outdoor patio, and in my haste, I missed the crucial words that would have tipped me off to the fact that I was going to be served a wrap, and not a sandwich. Is my disappointment solely my fault? The heading for this section of the menu is “Alehouse Sandwiches.” Was it unreasonable of me to assume that any and all items under that listing would be sandwiches? When one considers beer bread, a tortilla hardly comes to mind. And that is what troubles me, friends. What can be excused by carelessness and unwarranted assumptions on my part can only be explained by callous disregard on the part of whoever decided to call this a sandwich. This is a wrap. I know that a lot of things have changed over the years, and words do not always mean what they once did, but a sandwich is not a wrap. It is not now, and it has never been. But someone at Four Peaks Brewery is either unaware of this or simply does not care. I made a mistake in not reading the menu closer, I’ll admit to that much. But I did not make the mistake repeatedly, day in and day out. I did not serve a customer expecting a sandwich piled on hearty beer bread a bit of limp flat bread. I try to give restaurants the benefit of the doubt, I don’t grill the waitstaff about the construction of their sandwiches. I will take responsibility for not ferreting out the fact that someone with such disrespect for sandwiches designed the menu at Four Peaks Brewery, but the responsibility for so abusing my trust lies entirely with the establishment.
In the end, I hope this will exist as a cautionary tale. Read your menus carefully. There are those out there who, through ignorance or recklessness, will try to serve you a wrap and call it a sandwich.
Chopped Beef Torta – Los Reyes de la Torta, N 7th St, Phoenix, AZ
Picture in your head a restaurant called “Frank’s Eats.” Across the street, picture “Le Bistro.” Without any further information, you already know a lot about each of these establishments. You already know quite a few of the things on each menu, you know how the lighting will differ, and you can probably guess how likely you are to leave each establishment with heartburn. My point here is that the name of a restaurant says a lot. While in Phoenix not too long ago I was looking for a place to grab a sandwich and came upon the listing for Los Reyes de la Torta. The Torta Kings. This wasn’t a signal of the menu or the cleanliness, this was a signal of attitude. This was a restaurant founded by two or more individuals with such faith in the quality of their food that from day one they announced themselves as the reigning sandwich sovereigns of Phoenix. This is, to say the least, a bold claim.
While I have not eaten every torta in Phoenix there was nothing at Los Reyes de la Torta to lead me to believe they were not all that they claimed to be. The chopped beef torta was piled high with grilled steak, cheese, onion, tomato, jalapenos and avocado. The flavors produced a fine harmony, and a wide, soft telera kept everything under control. I admire the kind of people who run Los Reyes de la Torta. They do something, they do it very well, and they aren’t afraid to let you know about it.
Steak Sandwich – Original Hamburger Works, North 15th Avenue Phoenix, AZ
When I ordered the steak sandwich at the Original Hamburger Works, I was asked how I wanted the steak cooked. I was a bit surprised at this, as a steak sandwich is usually a cheap cut that has been minced beyond recognition, so never mind how you’d like it cooked. I figured aiming for rare was my best bet, as it was likely to be overdone no matter what. However, the fact that it was in fact a full piece of meat turned out to be one of the least interesting things about this sandwich.
The sandwich you see above is exactly the sandwich I received. There is nothing hiding under the bun, no grilled onions, no cheese, no aoli or salad greens, just a steak. It would be easy to be upset about this, to deride the lack of artistry, the withered imagination that puts forth the absolute minimum required to make a sandwich and ceases all effort. It would be easy, but it is not what I did. I sat there and I ate my steak sandwich and I wondered what it was like to eat sandwiches 150 years ago, to know them in such simple forms and only in such simple forms. It must have really been something, and I am grateful this incredibly basic sandwich gave me a small window into that very different time.
Beef on Weck – All Star Sandwich Bar, Cambridge St, Cambridge, MA
A cousin to the french dip in spirit but not in provenance, the Beef on Weck is a favorite of western New York and generally isn’t found outside of the Northeast. It contains only one ingredient: Slow roasted beef. What distinguishes it from the ordinary roast beef sandwich is the kimmelwick roll, topped with caraway seeds and kosher salt. What distinguishes this specific sandwich from others is that All Star Sandwich bar roasts their beef in-house. The beef on the sandwich is hot, juicy and tender and it really raises the sandwich to another level. This is a good thing, as there are no other ingredients to hide behind, no cheese to mask the taste, nothing to salvage sub-par execution. It is served with au jus and authentic horseradish, not the miserable creamed stuff. The All-Star Sandwich bar walks a tight rope with their Beef on Weck but manages a stellar routine.
The Jimmy T – Lenny’s, 9th St, New York, NY
Lenny’s is a sandwich chain in New York city, currently operating over a dozen restaurants. Each one is more-or-less the same in layout and design. There’s nothing particularly charming about Lenny’s. You won’t come away with a story for your friends. You won’t feel compelled to spread the word about Lenny’s and you won’t feel you have to hold it as a personal secret. It’s a chain, someone takes your order, assembles your sandwich and passes it off to the person you pay. Eating at Lenny’s would never be considered an experience. But none of that matters because Lenny’s does something very well and it is the most important thing, the thing that many other chains lose in their constant expansion: Lenny’s makes a very good sandwich.
The Jimmy T, high on the list of Lenny’s signature sandwiches, is a breaded chicken cutlet, melted mozzarella cheese, grilled onions, sweet peppers and honey mustard on your choice of bread. It’s a fine sandwich. The grilled onions and the peppers are the featured ingredients and the mustard is just enough to keep the sweetness from getting out of hand. I do not mean to sell the sandwich short but what is especially notable isn’t that it’s good it’s that you can get it at a substantial number of locations. At far too many chain sandwich shops any chucklehead with $5 is served a pile of salt between two pieces of bread. It is nice to know that at least in certain places there are people who don’t think that availability is a substitute for edibility.
On Sandwiches 