I make no secret of my cheese skepticism, and a melt is an unlikely choice for me. There’s almost always something else I’d rather try, and trying a sandwich built around cheese runs a high risk. But it’s still a subject worth exploring, so I have this sandwich and two grilled cheeses coming up next week. Here we have two pieces of melted swiss surrounding grilled chicken, romaine lettuce and caesar dressing. I wasn’t expecting much, but I was pleasantly surprised by a well balanced sandwich; the dressing helped cut the flavors, the grilled chicken was flavorful and a welcome texture, and the lettuce provided a nice earthy undertone. The bread didn’t wow me, but it was decent enough. I came away satisfied, and sometimes that’s all you can hope for from a sandwich.
Steak Torta – Adelita’s Taqueria, Leigh Ave, San Jose, CA
Due mainly to widespread availability and a high floor / high ceiling situation, the torta is the sandwich archetype I consume most frequently. On balance I think that’s a good thing, as a great many tortas are quite tasty, but it is not without its downside. This is the peril of any obsession, I think, that the more you learn, explore and experience, the more unforgiving your comparisons get. What I’m driving at is that this wasn’t a bad sandwich, but it wasn’t good either. Specifically, it was a far cry from what would be available at Mexico Bakery #2 or Los Reyes de la Torta. Los Reyes are a good distance away from my home base, so thoughts of them tend to be wistful and with a more romantic sense of regret. Mexico Bakery is very close by, though, and so when consuming a sandwich such as the one I got at Adelita’s I felt the sharper sting of a lost opportunity. This was a decent sandwich, but a little bit more effort and I would have had a very good one. The lettuce was crisp, the guacamole as tasty as guacamole usually is, the steak seasoned well enough and though the roll could have been better a few moments on the griddle gave it a decent crunch. In spite of all that, though, I have heard the songs of tortas much more lyrical than this one, and so I came away disappointed. This is no fault of the establishment, and originally I hesitated, sullying the internet with negative words they don’t deserve. But this is On Sandwiches, and sometimes we must overcome our hesitation in search of truths.
And make no mistake, friends, this is not a small issue. What this comes down to is the matter of habit versus experimentation. I could have headed downtown and gotten a torta at Mexico Bakery #2, and it would have been good. For that matter I could have made plans to travel to Arizona and gotten one that was truly spectacular. But I wanted to try a new establishment, even knowing that I might come away disappointed. This is an issue we must all confront virtually every time we set out to have a sandwich, and there is no easy answer. You could try as many places as possible, but you would be doing yourself a disservice by never returning to the truly great sandwiches. You could rely on a set of standby sandwiches, but you would be haunted by thoughts of opportunities wasted. Of course there’s a balance to be found between these two extremes, but what comfort is that? At every opportunity you feel the tug of both viewpoints, and there is never a hope of satisfying both. The best any of us can do, I suppose, is to weigh our options, trust our gut, and know that there will come a tomorrow, with another opportunity for a great sandwich.
Slummin’ It: Ham & Turkey, and Bacon Club on Wheat Bread – 7-11
We all have moments where we fall prey to cravings. If you’re reading this there’s a good chance that your average craving, like mine, is for a sandwich. And when these cravings strike we are often able to seek out our local favorite, or a new establishment we’ve had our eye on for a while, or we simply head to the kitchen and see what we can put together. But what happens when that need strikes in less opportune times? I headed out with the full intention of buying this sandwich, but in my mind I was imagining a situation of much uglier circumstances. I pictured myself stranded on foot, heading through an unfamiliar city, beset by a foul mood or a string of bad luck. In such a situation I might say to myself that I just want a sandwich, any sandwich will do. What sandwich am I most likely to come across? Is it likely to be any good? If, in my darkest moments, I put my faith in fate and just go for the nearest sandwich, am I likely to meet satisfaction or further dismay? This is almost certainly geographically specific, but if dropped at random the only thing you’re more likely to come across than a Subway is a 7-11. So 7-11 was the natural choice to explore this hypothetical set of unfortunate circumstances, and 7-11 is where I went.
Look at the name of the sandwich for a moment. Ham & Turkey, and Bacon Club on Wheat Bread. Why is the first “and” an ampersand and the second one the full conjunction? It feels as if the cold cuts and the bacon have been segregated somehow, almost placed in different philosophical categories. What necessitated this? The label also includes “with tomatoes,” but doesn’t include the information that lettuce is present. Again, there seem to be two sets of rules for two different ingredients. It’s hard to overstate how unsettling I find that. But I went to the 7-11 for the sandwich, and I was not going to leave empty handed.
I went into this with pretty low expectations, but this sandwich still managed to fall short. The tomatoes are tasteless mush, the ham and turkey are flavorless & uninspired, and the bacon…the label doesn’t mention that the sandwich contains mayo, but it does. It contains a lot of mayo. This is likely to protect the bread, but it’s so much mayo that it manages to match the bacon in intensity of flavor. Granted, it’s particularly bland bacon, but just consider that. The sandwich featured flavors of bacon and mayonnaise in about equal proportion. If that sentence doesn’t horrify you, well, let’s just say you and I worship at different churches. I only ate half of this number, because while I’ll swallow a bitter pill in the service of sandwich blogging, swallowing two is just silly.
Returning to my earlier hypothetical situation, what I learned in eating this sandwich is not very comforting. It raises the question of whether any sandwich is better than no sandwich at all, an issue which I am not prepared to settle at the present moment. It’s a larger question than this sandwich can answer, and I hope that the next time I consider the issue I’m not in a strange city, walking the streets desperate for a sandwich, any sandwich at all.
Chicken Pesto – Which Wich
Having recently discussed Subway and having recently consumed a Togo’s sandwich not even worth discussing (pictured here for the curious), I thought it was high time to discuss a franchise sandwich eatery that actually does a few things right. Which Wich is a chain of less than 150 locations, with a central gimmick based around a highly customizable sandwich. Upon entering, the consumer selects a brown sandwich bag with a pre-printed menu, choosing from a half dozen categories: chicken, beef, veggie, etc. Then, marking the bag with red pen, the customer selects the type of bread, size, cheese, spreads & mustards, veggies and other accouterments. The menu is lacking in specific sandwiches, just presenting vague archetypes like “Roast Beef” or “Chicken Pesto.” Where in most sandwich shops the roast beef is already explicitly laid out, at Which Wich it’s almost entirely up to the consumer. While I do enjoy seeing what other people put forward as the ideal sandwich, the sheer number of options available make a fine substitute. Eleven cheeses are available, from the standards to feta to cream cheese. You can chose from four mustards, nearly a dozen spreads and sauces, onions three different ways, more than a dozen vegetable options and more. You can only get two types of bread, white or wheat, but the vast number of options available suggest not an establishment hamstrung by limited vision but one bolstered by supreme focus. Rather than hiding behind gimmickry, Which Wich seems an honest attempt to do things well.
For my part I went with the chicken pesto, adding mozzarella cheese, caramelized onions, bell peppers, mushrooms, garlic powder and salt & pepper. It wasn’t a fantastic sandwich, but it was far and above what you might expect from your average franchise affair. I’m reminded of Lenny’s, the quality NYC chain that has been around longer but has a far smaller reach. The bread had a nice crunch to it, nothing in the sandwich was overpowering. The chicken was sliced cold cuts, but better that than a dried, salty chicken breast, no? Altogether, Which Wich puts forth a perfectly competent sandwich. And given the more dreary options on offer from the larger players in the sandwich industry, perfectly competent is as fine a result as one could hope for.
Bacon and Lettuce on Bagel — Made At Home
Sometimes a sandwich can taste great and still be frustrating. This is what I encountered during my latest foray into the wonder of bagel sandwiches.
The bagels in this case were the slim pickings of a mid-afternoon supermarket bakery. My first attempt at a simple bacon sandwich was on a toasted cheese bagel, and it was exactly what I hoped it would be. Delicious bacon and mixed greens blended well with spicy mustard and combined well with the greasy cheese bagel. It was a great sandwich. And yet…
The slight toasting of the bagel had fried the cheese on all sides of the bagel to a crisp. Eat bite and each squeeze sent shards of cheese and bagel flying everywhere. It was a messy and annoying enterprise. Although the sandwich was tasty and satisfying, I was left strangely morose by the experience.
I repeated the same ingredients on an untoasted wheat bagel a short time later.
This second sandwich, although very nearly identical in all ways to the first, was endlessly more enjoyable. Sometimes the full enjoyment of a sandwich is a very precarious thing. Everything can be in place, everything can taste great, but one tiny little thing can ruin your sandwich experience. What a delicate life we lead.
Dessert Burger – Burger Bar at Mandalay Bay, Las Vegas Blvd S, Las Vegas, NV
The sixty dollar Rossini at Burger Bar comes with a few perks, beyond the thrill of finding out whether it was worth your money and the story you get to tell. Specifically, it comes with your choice of a milkshake or something from the dessert portion of the menu. Though a number of the gourmet milkshakes looked delicious, one of the dessert offerings was the dessert burger and I couldn’t pass up another sandwich. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, and when it arrived I was a bit tickled. A glazed donut is cut in two and a patty of chocolate fudge is added. There are a few slices of kiwi standing in for the lettuce, strawberry for the tomato, and a small square of gelatin does duty as the cheese. Raspberry coulis offers a ketchup garnish. I picked it up and dug in.
I wanted to like it. The idea is delightful, the presentation is cute. There’s nothing unreasonable in the ingredients, if presented in a list I’d tell you they would work quite well together. But in practice it just didn’t fly. The fudge was the catalyst for the failure, I think. It had a slightly grainy texture, but more importantly there was just too much of it. It was a thick, dense patty of chocolate and the whole thing turned into all fudge as the other ingredients disappeared early in each bite. It was lacking balance and as well all know, balance is crucial. A patty made of something lighter, cake dipped in chocolate perhaps, or just a different bit of donut, would have gone a long way. I’m glad I so enjoyed the Rossini at Burger Bar, because the dessert burger made for a disappointing cap to my meal. I’m all for incorporating sandwiches into as many parts of a meal as possible, but to do it poorly is to do a disservice to both dessert and to sandwiches. Some things, it seems, are better left unburgered.
Bacon and Egg Breakfast Sandwich — Johny’s Kitchen, Cal State Los Angeles
I have consumed a great many meals on a good many college campuses in my time. Truly, some of my fondest sandwich memories have come from on-campus or campus-adjacent eateries: the truly spectacular but pricey sandwiches from the Ord Market on the territory that comprises CSU Monterey Bay; the turkey and Swiss croissant microwaved with love and served out of a small shack in the middle of San Francisco State.
California State University, Los Angeles is heavy on the name-brand fast food and light on the independent sandwich shop or eatery. There is, however, a storefront in the food court called Johny’s Kitchen, which appears to be a singular entity. The menu is far-reaching diner fare, and when I found myself in need of a quick breakfast, I gave them a shot.There were half a dozen breakfast sandwich options or slight variation: bacon and egg, sausage and egg, ham and egg, etc. served on one’s choice of bread. I opted for the bacon and egg on wheat, and unfortunately, was served a sandwich that will in no way hold a special place in my heart.
There was a significant quantity of egg…I would say between two and three eggs, and a few strips of bacon served on two pieces of slightly grilled toast. There was no butter on the bread, no seasoning in the eggs, and no other element to the sandwich. It is among the blandest sandwiches I have ever encountered. Even a dash of salt and pepper would have made the sandwich exponentially better. I can’t imagine that the other bread choices of rye, white, or sourdough would have improved the sandwich, either. We talk a lot about the unnecessary inclusion of cheese in sandwiches, but any cheese at all on this sandwich would have been a marked and welcome improvement.
As I chewed and swallowed this massive, warm wad of egg with an extremely slight bacon flavor, I reflected on the fact that one of the breakfast sandwich options was merely “double egg.” I felt a deep sadness for any unfortunate soul who elected to travel that unappetizing road.
The Godfather – All About The Bread, Melrose Ave, Los Angeles, CA
As I spent some time last week maligning Subway for their woefully inadequate bread, I thought it would be as good a time as any to talk about one of the better offerings out there. In the Subway post I mentioned that I can forgive people for crowing about great bread, and All About the Bread is certainly crowing. It’s in the name, of course, and they make sure to inform you that the bread is baked fresh every 30 minutes. I’m not exactly sure what that means. Am I getting the bread that’s fresh out of the oven? Do you take a batch, sell what you can in a half hour, then throw the remainder away and start fresh? While the specifics are hazy the implication is clear: This is fresh bread. As for the rest of what’s on display here, The Godfather is a pretty standard Italian sub. The ingredients vary a little depending on where you are, and All About the Bread features spicy capocollo, mortadella, prosciutto, ham, salami and provolone on the namesake bread. I thought it was OK, but enough of my associates proclaimed it too heavy on the mustard and hot peppers that I feel obligated to pass that information on to you. Considered apart from the sandwich, though, the bread was spectacular. The crust is marvelously crisp, having bubbled up into a crackly shell just waiting for your bite to smash through. The interior of the bread is soft and light, not tasteless but willingly playing a supporting roll to the sandwich. Although I would likely steer clear of The Godfather again, they offer a number of other sandwiches your humble enthusiast is anxious to pair up with that outstanding bread.
Chicken Torta — Eagle Rock Music Festival, Los Angeles
Street fairs and similar festivals are an interesting time for cuisine, particularly in Los Angeles, where the food truck and the street vendor are at the same time a ubiquitous staple and a hipsterish fad. The recent Eagle Rock Music Festival had the featured food trucks you would expect, as well as the open restaurants and scattered food booths along a jam-packed Colorado Boulevard, but also featured an interesting “food court” down a side street. It was at this food court that I saw a large banner over a crowded stall that proclaimed “SUPER TORTAS.” Whether this was a descriptor of the product, a hyperbolic boast, or simply the name of the proprietary enterprise, I could not ascertain. I was merely certain that I would be ordering a torta.
Following a prolonged and too-complicated ordering process, I was presented with a chicken torta and a pork-and-cheese pupusa. Since this is not “On Pupusas,” I shall restrict my commentary to the former.
As I carried my torta the few blocks home, to enjoy my repaste in comfort at the end of a very long day, I did not have high hopes for the sandwich. Certainly I have an ideal against which all future tortas will be measured, which does a grave disservice to both myself and the unfortunate new torta. The chicken torta from the Music Festival featured minced and grilled chicken, lettuce, and tomato. The grilled roll was given a healthy coat of what appeared to be mayonnaise, and a liberal ladle of salsa was applied to the sandwich just before assembly was completed atop the grill.
To say I was pleasantly surprised would be an understatement. By all rights, this sandwich should not have been as good as it was. The chicken was sparse and of low quality. The salsa and grease had soaked through the bottom half of the roll, making it something just this side of “a sloppy mess.” And yet…this torta was absolutely delicious. The marriage of the salsa, mayonnaise, and chicken was approaching sublime. It had far more kick than you would expect from this sandwich, and yet the heat and spice was never overpowering. The bread was of a much higher quality than I expected, and the torta absolutely hit the spot with this weary traveler. My only regret lies in not being able to divine the name of this establishment, so that I may visit their truck or storefront again in the future. Alas.
Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki – Subway
Recently I found myself without lunch and without the means or opportunity to go and get lunch. Because I live in America, there was a Subway nearby. So, I shamefully admit to you, I went and got a sandwich at Subway. That’s just the way things shake out sometimes. Last time I talked about Subway I had a very specific grievance with their Pulled Pork, but today I just want to talk Subway in general.
Subway sandwiches, as they are fond of reminding you, feature fresh baked bread. It isn’t really baking in any sense that you might imagine it, of course. Baking is the term for it, though, because they certainly aren’t making bread. A frozen stick of dough is thawed, proofed, and then baked. The smell drifts from the store and each and every little Subway can proudly boast fresh baked bread.
I don’t eat at Subway with any real regularity, and I’m never particularly pleased to be doing so, but I’ve eaten my share of Subway sandwiches. And I can say in all honesty that I have never once paused and thought to myself “you know, this is really good bread!” And the reason I have not thought that is simple: it isn’t very good! I could forgive Subway the boasting, I could forgive them any number of Quick Service Restaurant food prep techniques if the damned bread was any good, but it isnt! There’s no crust, there’s no body, there’s all manner of crap piled on top. Herbs, oats, parmesan, it all goes on top in a terrible inadequate attempt to camoflage the rest of the loaf. They display a wide range of types of bread, but they’re all the same where it counts. Put together a sandwich at Subway that would benefit from a soft, yielding crust and put together one that needs a sharp crunch. Sorry, you’re out of luck on both ends, the only thing that’s available is some silly middle of the road that doesn’t do anyone any favors.
I can forgive people crowing over great bread. And I can forgive just-ok bread if nobody tries to sell me on it. But taking the worst of both worlds and puffing your chest out over mediocrity is unforgivable. They take the sandwich consumer for a sap, arguing by assertion that their fresh baked bread is a delicious compliment to any sandwich. It isn’t true, it just flat-out isn’t true, and if there’s one thing I don’t like on my sandwich it’s a big fat juicy lie.
On Sandwiches 
