Tomato Sandwiches Three Ways – Made at Home

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There’s a bit of news about the tomato making the rounds. It’s interesting enough, but it seems to be something of a science flag planted on a mountain of personal experience:

The mass-produced tomatoes we buy at the grocery store tend to taste more like cardboard than fruit. Now researchers have discovered one reason why: a genetic mutation, common in store-bought tomatoes, that reduces the amount of sugar and other tasty compounds in the fruit.

For the last 70-odd years, tomato breeders have been selecting for fruits that are uniform in color. Consumers prefer those tomatoes over ones with splotches, and the uniformity makes it easier for producers to know when it’s time to harvest.

But the new study, published this week in Science, found that the mutation that leads to the uniform appearance of most store-bought tomatoes has an unintended consequence: It disrupts the production of a protein responsible for the fruit’s production of sugar.


Supermarket tomatoes are terrible. Anyone who has eaten one knows this, and the genetic reason why it’s terrible is just a bit of interesting conversation. Many supermarket tomatoes spend some time in cold storage, which just damanges them further. Refrigerating a tomato destroys aroma volatiles, and given that tomatoes don’t have much flavor to spare to begin with the whole thing is lost. But don’t despair! For many of us there are other sources of tomatoes readily available. Farmer’s markets are increasingly common sights, and at many of these one can find some beautifully colored heirloom tomatoes, rich in taste. After reading the above article I figured the tomato could use some good news, so I picked up a few of these tasty tomatoes and set out to  put together a few sandwiches that didn’t just include tomatoes but featured them. Tomato sandwiches, not sandwiches with tomatoes.

The first sandwich involved the above heirloom tomato, streaked through with greens and purples. Anchovies went down first, then a layer of pan fried cornmeal mush, then the tomatoes. Cornmeal mush is something akin to polenta or grits, just cornmeal and a bit of salt cooked in boiling water, laid in a pan and refrigerated, then sliced and fried. It is bland, but that’s kind of the point. Anchovies are salty as all get out, and I felt the sandwich needed something that would dial them back a bit. The mush did that, but in all honesty it didn’t dial them back quite enough. I like anchovies a lot, but I always feel that if they were 25% less salty they’d be the greatest thing on the face of the earth. The salt is part of the attraction, but as was the case here it’s often just too much. But enough about those two things. The story here is the tomato. This tomato was delicious. What an odd fruit tomato is, that one finds oneself not celebrating that the taste of a tomato is amazing, but rather that the tomato tastes like anything at all. But it was sweet, juicy and firm, and exactly the kind of sandwich around which one builds a sandwich. This could have been better, but with a tomato this good you’re willing to forgive the sandwich a few faults.

The second sandwich was considerably more successful. Another three-ingredient job, a semi-tart orange tomato went on sourdough with avocado and black bean hummus. (The hummus was not much more than toasted garlic, black beans, and a bit of oil to smooth things out.) If I may praise my own doing, this is a strong example of the simple sandwich. It’s something that can be put together in just a few minutes for not much more than the price of cleaning the food processor, and it’s really quite tasty. Nothing involved overshadows the tomato, but the other two ingredients are quite flavorful on their own. In a nice example of why we bother with sandwiches in the first place, three good things go together and become great.

The third sandwich, the second with the heirloom tomato, was significantly more successful than the other. Sweet potato hashbrowns went down first, followed by sliced of tomato, topped by fennel that had been sauteed with garlic. The garlic had fried all the way to little crispy bits, and they were as tasty as you know such things to be. The sweet potato hashbrowns were crispy and had a rich sweetness that worked well with the brighter sweetness of the tomatoes. The fennel, of course, brought its own distinct flavor, and all of that came together in a really tasty sandwich. This isn’t drop-everything-and-try-it material, but if it sounds like something you’d enjoy I give it a strong recommendation. And if it’s been a while since you tasted anything other than the flavorless mush that is a supermarket tomato, I’d say you could find a worse starting point than this sandwich.

Grilled Chicken Sandwich — La Brea Bakery, Downtown Disney, Anaheim, CA

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There are times when the sandwich you eat is the perfect sandwich. There are also times when the sandwich you eat is the perfect sandwich for that particular time or occasion. This offering from the La Brea Bakery was possibly both. Recently re-opened just outside of the gates of Disney’s California Adventure, the La Brea Bakery is, naturally, known for its fresh-baked bread. When I saw that one of its items was served on a pretzel roll, I did not hesitate. My adoration for the pretzel roll is, I believe, well-documented on this site.

The sandwich — grilled chicken, butter leaf lettuce, avocado, tomato, and aioli — was fantastic. It was far better than the sum of its parts and its crowing achievement was the pretzel roll, enhancing everything contained therein. Even the inclusion of butter leaf over some of the more preeminent staples of sandwich lettuce was an inspired choice. As I had recently experienced at the Village Bakery and Cafe, the decision to slice the grilled chicken rather than present a complete, boring grilled chicken breast was once again the most correct decision that could have been made.

If there was one problem with this sandwich, it was that there was an unusually high amount of filling creep. But even as by sandwich became messier with each bite, I still marveled at the pleasure derived from eating it. The La Brea Bakery provided me with an unexpected treat on day I sorely needed one.

Grégoire’s Restaurant, Piedmont Ave, Oakland, CA

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What a pleasure it is, to find an establishment willing to put some effort into the humble sandwich. Part of the joy of sandwiches is how simple they can be; one often needs nothing more than two pieces of bread and a bit of something else to have a fine bite to eat. But another part of the joy of sandwiches is that they really can be taken to some wonderful heights. Such is the case with Grégoire Restaurant, a tiny establishment in Oakland that does brisk takeout business providing “gourmet food made affordable.” Above is the pulled lamb shoulder sandwich: lamb, with espellette pepper, sour onions and artichoke chips on ciabatta. This was an exquisite sandwich, a layering of subtle flavors all built around rich, savory lamb. The artichoke chips were bits of fried artichoke, which brought a bit of crunchy texture to the sandwich with a flavor not typically seen. The onions were not particularly sour and the espellette is a rather mild pepper, leaving the sandwich well balanced and altogether delightful.

Unfortunately, I did not quite care for the fried chicken sandwich, but I want to make no mark against it. Here we had fried buttermilk chicken with spicy cole slaw on french roll. A simple, honest sandwich. The spice was in the manner of wing sauce, which is far from my favorite heat profile and a big part of what I didn’t enjoy about the sandwich. The chicken was fresh fried, though, the slaw crispy and well paired. The execution was there, and in light of the first sandwich it was clear there was no real failing here, it just wasn’t my style of sandwich. This isn’t a two-ingredient sandwich because someone was lazy or anything of the sort. It’s was that someone put these two things together, saw that it was enough, and was wise enough to stop there. The resulting sandwich wasn’t for me, but it’s easy to see someone else thinking it quite nice. That’s inevitably the result when someone cares, and it’s very clear that someone at Grégoire’s cares very much indeed.

Chipotle Chicken — The Village Bakery & Cafe, Los Feliz Blvd, Los Angeles, CA

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As our esteemed founder discovered, the Village Bakery & Cafe is definitely an establishment that knows what it is doing. (Unlike some other establishments we could name.)

The Chipotle Chicken was a very satisfying sandwich that was well worth my time. The sauce was flavorful and not overpowering and the delicious bun both enhanced the experience and masterfully curtailed any danger of filling creep. The true triumph of this sandwich, however, was the simple fact that the chicken was cut into slices. Not deli-thin slices that would more properly called cold cuts, but perhaps twice-filleted and grilled hunks that fitted together to make for a pleasing experience, both in terms of flavor and of texture.

Far too many establishments provide one massive chicken breast flopped from the grill onto a bun and call it a day. Not here. The chicken is purposefully carved and assembled to make for a more pleasing experience. Mission accomplished. It is a simple step and creates a world of difference from the standard chicken breast sandwich. Preferable every time.

The Drippin’s – Poor House Bistro, S Autumn St, San Jose, CA

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I talked about the Poor House Bistro some time ago, and what I said then still stands. It’s a fine outpost, a respectable po’ boy in an area where such a thing isn’t in abundance. The reason I bring it up again is to draw a contrast to the Braised Onion French Dip featured on Monday. Both are very good sandwiches, both centered around a big pile of meat, but the things that accompany the Drippin’s are doing something very different than the French Dip from Oaks. Oaks had each ingredient trying to make its own mark: truffled watercress, sherry au jus and braised onions are all an ingredient plus an additional bit of spin. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but it makes a sandwich significantly harder to balance; featuring six things is always going to be harder than featuring one thing.

Poor House Bistro takes a more simple approach, in which the support is the support. In addition to the roast pork the sandwich features tomatoes, pickles, shredded cabbage and mustard. That’s not the default “everything,” most sandwiches at Poor House Bistro include mayo by default, but they leave if off the Drippin’s, much to the sandwich’s benefit. Leaving the mayo off gives the cabbage a crisp freshness that pairs quite well with the richness of the pork. This isn’t a question of laziness, it’s just a matter of understanding the sandwich. You’re there for juicy, tender, savory, and just peppery enough pork, and that’s exactly what you get.

I have also tried the BBQ Shrimp Po’ Boy at Poor House Bistro, and it struck me as one of those sandwiches where if it’s your thing, you’ll love it, but if not there isn’t much appealing about it. It’s incredibly heavy on the pepper, and while I do enjoy spicy foods I felt like this was a bit much, one strong note without much support at all. If pepper is your thing, by all means. If you lack that enthusiasm, though, the Drippin’s or one of the fried numbers is likely to set you right.

BLT & Turkey BLT — Made At Home

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Unlike our esteemed founder, I have no such qualms about the presence of bacon. Although I wholeheartedly agree that the fixation on bacon is hackneyed, unnecessary, and already hopelessly cliche, I do enjoy a bit of smoky, salty substance added to sandwiches every now and then. And of course, within a BLT, its presence is mandatory; otherwise you would just be silly. I attempted to create a pair of sandwiches at home using some roasted garlic bread obtained by my closest associate. The first attempt, the simple BLT with tomato, arugula, and mustard, was underwhelming. This was solely my own fault, as I accidentally used far too liberal an application of mustard and overwhelmed the whole of the sandwich as a result. My second attempt was miles better.

For this second sandwich I went lighter on the mustard, used just one strip of bacon and added peppered sliced turkey breast. The result was a flavorful and refreshing sandwich. The peppered turkey really sang and was pleasantly augmented by a minimum amount of bacon and mustard. The bread — with cloves of garlic baked in — matched up immensely better with the turkey than without.

When discussing sandwich meats, let us not overlook our dear friend the turkey, which — much like vodka in mixed drinks — can often become anything a sandwich requires. It is the most malleable of sandwich meats, which is a feature to be admired, rather than derided.

Pulled Braised Short Rib French Onion Dip – The Oaks Gourmet Market, N Bronson Ave, Los Angeles, CA

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Returning to Oaks Gourmet, let us once again consider a basic sandwich, upscaled. Aside from a heaping pile of pulled short rib, the Braised French Onion Short Rib French Dip from Oaks Gourmet contains braised onions, horseradish cream and truffled watercress on a toasted baguette, with the sherry au jus served on the side. That’s quite a sandwich, although not one that is entirely comprehensible. The question of how one truffles watercress is raised, for example. I suspect they mean that they’re using truffle oil, but the fact that they don’t just say that is rather suspicious. But aside from any nefarious truffling, this was was a really good sandwich. It wasn’t quite everything it’s supposed to be, I suspect, as it was not particularly earth shattering and wasn’t really a subtle, layered sandwich. But it was everything one wants a french dip to be, which is to say, a big pile of really rich meat. There wasn’t enough horseradish on it for my taste, but this wasn’t the first time that’s happened and it certainly won’t be the last.

Judging by this and the short rib sandwich from Little Chef Counter, I’m inclined to say that short ribs are a severely underutilized sandwich ingredient. It’s incredibly rich, savory, and it can be an incredible background for other flavors. Serving this sandwich with about half the meat present would have set up that background and left some room for the watercress and its truffling to play through, but as it stands it was all short rib. There are far worse things for a sandwich to be, though, so consider me satisfied.

Chicken Bacon Avocado — Vons, Figueroa Blvd., Los Angeles

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The made-to-order supermarket deli sandwich is, of course, something we have examined many times before at On Sandwiches. Today we explore another and question two things: storage and application of avocado, and abundance of the “large” sandwich.

Many sandwich shops and supermarkets, of course, offer avocado on sandwiches, either as a staple or as an addition at a customer’s whim. In most sit-down restaurants, the avocado will be freshly sliced and place on the sandwich. In many sandwich storefronts, however, the avocados will be pre-mashed for the sake of ease of storage and application. These are not so much “avocados” as “guacamole with one ingredient.” This is what was provided for my Chicken Bacon Avocado sandwich at Vons. It is understandable, although discouraging to the sandwich purist. Time is money, after all, and if it is simpler and more expedient to simply produce a #2 scoop of mashed avocado and spread it around the bread, why wouldn’t a manager or CEO (or whomever) make that call? While the sliced avocado is preferred, this is still something to take note of, and to think about when obtaining a sandwich with avocado. (Please note that although it has been a while since I have partaken of Subway, when last I was there, the avocado was still sliced to order; a somewhat surprising fact given the photographs of their menu items and the overall reality of the franchise.)

The second point I want to address here is at what point offering a “large” sandwich becomes unnecessary. What you see above is a perfectly acceptable sandwich. Unfortunately, I ordered a “large” version of this sandwich, which — due to the nature of the focaccia bread on which it is served — resulted in the counter employee simply making two of the above sandwich and wrapping them separately. I would argue that this is not a large sandwich. This is, in fact, two of the same sandwich. Again, perhaps I am a stickler of semantics here, but these are not the same thing.

The sandwich(es) was (were) actually quite good. Nothing revolutionary, of course, but all the flavors married well and added up to a satisfying experience. And then, of course, I had to eat another sandwich.

Ultimate B.L.T – The Oaks Gourmet Market, N Bronson Ave, Los Angeles, CA

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The BLT at Oaks Gourmet came highly recommended by a trusted associate, and I’m always very tempted by a sandwich that comes with a boast. Obviously with so many establishments making claims on the ultimate this or the best that in America they can’t all be correct, but it signals a certain amount of effort that has to be appreciated. Sometimes the claim is completely unwarranted, and other times you find something really special. Oaks Gourmet Market makes a strong bid, filling their offering with ingredients they want you to know are special. Black Forest Bacon, heirloom tomatoes, butterleaf hearts, Camembert cheese, avocado and roasted shallot ailoli all come together on toasted sourdough. And for all of that, you get…you get a BLT. It’s possible that this isn’t a tremendously popular opinion, but there isn’t really a tremendously high ceiling on the BLT. It’s good; crisp, moist lettuce, salty, smoky bacon, and a flavorful tomato all work well together. It’s just that the combination isn’t spectacular. Good, sure, but it’s more a well whistled tune than an impressive symphony.

There’s an implicit concession to my position in this sandwich. The addition of fine ingredients wasn’t enough to make the Ultimate BLT, that required both avocado and cheese. But that’s the thing: it’s hardly a BLT at that point, no? On the menu this evening is a Catch-22, a sandwich that can’t excel within its own category without stepping outside. It’s tragic, really.

But forget disparaging remarks about the BLT, set aside the boast being made, all of that. The question, as always, was whether or not this was a good sandwich. I know it’s well regarded, but I didn’t care for it. I think the Camembert does a disservice to the sandwich. It’s not a subtle flavor, the more reticent notes of the tomato are hard to come by and the roasted shallot aioli is completely lost. But I think this might be one of those not-for-me things. Maybe you’re wild about Camembert, who knows. It’s clear that Oaks Gourmet was aiming pretty high with this sandwich, and even when that falls short I’m likely to give a bit of polite applause.

Slow Roasted Pork — Four Cafe, Colorado Blvd., Los Angeles

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In sandwiches, as concerns most others things in life, it is not often necessary to try to gimmick up a sure-fire winner. If you must have your dalliances and whimsy, either work out your quirks in the comfort of your own home, or make your entire enterprise reflect that you are not to be taken seriously with regard to the art of the sandwich.

Four Cafe is a fine establishment, serving fresh fare with plenty of vegan and vegetarian options and with an eye toward healthful menu items. They have a seasonal menu and some of their winter offerings were quite spectacular indeed. Unfortunately, it is now spring, and they are featuring a pulled pork sandwich that does grave disservice to the genre.

Pulled pork, of course, is often married with citrus (specifically orange juice), utilized in a wide range of marinades and mojo sauces, etc. What Four Cafe has done here is to take pulled pork that has reportedly been through a whole grain mustard marinade, and create a sandwich consisting of red onions, gruyere, arugula, garlic aioli — and orange slices. The result, of course, is a nightmare on rye bread. To begin with, pulled pork should not be associated with any sort of cheese — that is strike one. The gruyere, as to be expected, was completely lost in the needlessly crowded (yet still startlingly slender) sandwich. Secondly, the pulled pork was layered so thin that there was nearly a 1:1 ratio of pork to oranges. The flavors of the sandwich (such as they were) were completely overwhelmed by entire orange slices (and if we are being honest, these were almost certainly sections of clementine, but I defer to the menu’s boast of oranges). Even if the pork were not completely overshadowed by the citrus (and I do not mean that as a compliment to the citrus), Four Cafe appears to be blissfully unaware that sections of orange (or whatever) are not what you would call “conducive” to inclusion in a sandwich. In fact, the rubbery, tough, and fibrous texture of the orange is at best an antithesis to the yielding nature of pulled pork. What you are left with is a sandwich that is difficult to eat, an insult to pulled pork, and really devoid of any distinguishable flavor or trait other than “oranges.”

You called it a “Slow Roasted Pork” sandwich, Four Cafe. Don’t hand me nothing but citrus and call it a day.