Tag Archives: Pork

Apricot & Egg Sandwich – Made at Home

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I recently prepared a meal of roast pork loin with apricot glaze and as I considered the leftovers the next day a sandwich seemed like the obvious choice. I’ll be honest: It’s a rare set of leftovers that doesn’t suggest a sandwich. I had some arugula left over from a stellar arugula & grilled potato salad and I laid it down on a toasted whole wheat English muffin. The pork loin was sliced as thin as I could manage and seared in a skillet, lending it a wonderful crisp. Apricot preserves went on the top half of the English muffin. As it stood then, though, it just didn’t seem like a complete sandwich. Since it was still morning, albeit late morning, an egg seemed like a natural addition.

Mixing eggs with fruit preserves seemed a bit risky, so I decided to scramble the egg. The more mild flavor of a scrambled egg, I reasoned, was less likely to get all crossed up with the preserves. That instinct proved to be correct to a fault. The egg didn’t do much of a job announcing itself, and I had no real sense of how the egg and the apricot worked together because I couldn’t taste the egg doing any work. It was a tasty sandwich, but it was lacking. Luckily, this was a problem with an obvious remedy: Fry the egg.

Frying the egg wasn’t the only change I made. Immediately after putting the egg down in the pan I sprinkled it with minced toasted garlic, the setting egg holding the garlic fast. I also went into the fridge and replaced the standard preserves with a bit of leftover pan sauce from the night before, a concoction of preserves, citrus, butter and savory drippings. Arugula and seared pork made for the same base as before, but the rest of the sandwich had been considerably upgraded. The actual eating quickly confirmed what I suspected, that this was a very good sandwich. I suppose the pan sauce and the garlic stack the deck a bit in favor of the fried egg, but it was the rich, creamy yolk that brought those new, stronger elements together in harmony. The first sandwich was pleasant enough, but the second one was exceptional, a surprising bit of genuine deliciousness on a lazy morning. And what more could I ask for, really, than a fine sandwich to ease me into the rest of my day?

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

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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

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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.

Pan con Lechon – Porto’s, North Brand Boulevard, Glendale, CA

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Porto’s is a Cuban bakery and café, and features several interesting-looking sandwiches. This certainly won’t be the last you’ll see of Porto’s on this site, dear reader.

For my first trip there, I selected what is normally a can’t-miss, namely a roasted pork sandwich. The Pan Con Lechon is touted to be slow roasted pulled pork, grilled onions, and mojo sauce on grilled Cuban bread. As the above photograph makes clear, Porto’s served me my sandwich without cutting it in half. It is a rare beast these days when any foot-long sandwich – shy of those on offer at a Subway or Quizno’s – is served in a single quantity, without even an offer of being cut.

It is perhaps this method of delivery that failed the sandwich. The pulled pork was plentiful and tender, but the few other components ranged from “scant” to “nonexistent” during my dining experience. From time to time, I would experience a transcendent bite, full of satisfying flavor from all components in abundant and equal measure. Unfortunately, this was the exception rather than the rule. The distribution of ingredients was woefully uneven throughout. I would occasionally have a bite of mostly soggy roll, or a quantity of pork that neither sauce nor onion had ever touched.

Those few spectacular bites left me mostly frustrated that the majority of the sandwich fell well short of its potential. Had all components been applied evenly, this is a no-brainer. We shall see whether the other items at Porto’s merit regular trips in the future.

 

Sausage Sandwich – Rosie’s New York Pizza, The Alameda, San Jose

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Not to keep harping on the previous subject, but I’ve had bad experiences with sausage sandwiches. Good experiences too, but when ordering one the odds that you’ll get a sandwich are as good as the odds that you’ll get a glorified hot dog. But not so at Rosie’s New York Pizza! They solve the sausage sandwich puzzle in a fairly uncommon way, making thin slices of cooked sausage and piling them on a roll with onions, tomatoes, and just enough sauce that you don’t ruin your shirt. It isn’t my preferred way of prepping a sausage sandwich, but it’s still a fine way to do so, and it made for a tasty sandwich. There isn’t too much to say beyond that, but I that’s enough. It has to be enough, doesn’t it? In sandwiches, as in life, though we may seek epiphanies, we fare better when we are satisfied with a few wise words. I may sit down for every sandwich hoping to find the second greatest sandwich in the country, but when all I find is a tasty meal I’m happy to have it.

Pulled Pork – Made at Home

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A pulled pork sandwich on homemade white bread

In my post of two weeks ago I mentioned that a fellow sandwich enthusiast was rather negative on white bread. This is no small matter to him.

As a small child, I would eat no bread but white bread, and considered wheat bread to be disgusting. And then I was eight years old and I boarded an airplane for the first time. I sat at a window seat, refusing to peel my face away from the glorious spectacle as we peeked above the clouds.

I turned around only when the stewardess asked me which sort of bread I would like on my sandwich. I asked for wheat bread, and I was stunned to hear myself. Minutes later, she brought a turkey on wheat. I loved it. I loved all of it, and I didn’t much care for bleached sugar-bread after that.

I was eight, and I was short and light, and I had yet to discover my first kiss or car or job or lease. But it was at this point that I became a grown-up.

I understand his point, and I sympathize. I certainly look for sandwiches with bold flavors, sandwiches that embark in new, interesting directions. But that is not always what one wants, and that raises the question of whether or not something bland or boring can genuinely be appropriate. That is a valid question, and the answer raises something that makes me consider how I view sandwiches.

I have long said that balance is the most important element of a sandwich. It is not solely a matter of meat or bread or sauce or of any ingredient. A single strong ingredient can save a mediocre sandwich, as seen in sandwiches such as the California Fresh, but a truly great sandwich needs an equal contribution from every element. Or so I thought, anyway. I’m not willing to completely divorce myself from that idea, but I am starting to suspect that it is not truly essential. That is to say, I’m willing to believe that it is possible to have a really great sandwich that isn’t balanced. In place of balance, it seems, one can rely on harmony.

Harmony feels like a cousin to balance, but still quite distinct. Where balance speaks to evenness, harmony simply suggests agreement. Elements that cannot achieve uniform value can aim for concordance, the strong and the weak working together to the benefit of the sandwich. And that is what I found in my pulled pork sandwich. The pork was done in a slow cooker, so sadly it was missing the bark of a genuine smoked shoulder, but a rub heavy on spicy paprika made sure it was plenty flavorful. Tossed lightly in a sweet sauce (I like my pulled pork a little dry), it was a very fine sandwich. The bread was a big part of that. White bread, even when homemade, is still white bread. I admit that, and even though my friend may call me unsophisticated or childish, I will say that is a benefit. What it lacks flavor it gains in simplicity. It plays host to the pork, gladly yielding stardom. If we wish to seriously consider the full spectrum of what can be accomplished with sandwiches, we must not spend our time bemoaning the limits of our ingredients, but instead search for the places within those limits where we can most excel. Go get yourself a loaf of white bread and start walking that tightrope. I hope your heart races and the tastes sing.

BBQ Pulled Pork Sandwich – The Oinkster, Colorado Blvd, Eagle Rock, CA

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The BBQ pulled pork from Oinkster, which for some reason was served without sauce.

A few weeks ago while in Los Angeles, my associates and I were all set to venture to a local sandwich shop to pick up lunch. It turned out, though, that there simply wasn’t enough room in the car for all of us. Having reviewed the Oinkster menu online, I felt secure in what I wanted and so I simply told them to bring me back a pulled pork sandwich. Having heard tell of The Oinkster’s reputation, I spent the wait imaging the sandwich I was soon to relish, stuffed full and singing with a fine Carolina sauce. That is not what I got. A quick glance at the picture above will tell you that something, somewhere went wrong.

It is hard for me to not get angry. When ordering a sandwich, it is an exceedingly rare occasion where I will make specific requests. I trust in the person who has come up with the sandwich that they understand balance and layering and that their desire to create a fine sandwich matches my desire to eat one. I trust that they will do right by me. I have been let down before, certainly, some yahoo will load up on the cheese or go wild with the chilies. But those are understandable sins, products of misguided enthusiasm. This…I don’t know how this came to be. It was a pulled pork sandwich served without sauce. Pork is a fine, fine meat, but a half pound of it sitting naked on a roll is, dare I say, bland. This sandwich was a movie with the last two reels missing, a season of baseball cut short by strike. The cabbage and onions were both tasty, but the lack of sauce was so distracting it was hard to enjoy anything about the sandwich.

The simplicity of the sandwich allows for a lot of latitude. There are a million different things you can do, and it excites me to see people explore new territory. But this isn’t a vision, it’s a mistake. When you stand up and claim you’re taking a shot at an archetype, there are rules. There are lines there to guide you, and this sandwich fell well outside. Next time I’m in LA I intend to return to the Oinkster, to see if they can’t right this wrong.

Pork Shoulder on Coco Bread – Made at Home

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A homemade sandwich of pork shoulder, caramelized onions, avocado and cilantro on a coco bread roll

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.

Carnitas Torta – Taqueria Castillo B, McAllister St, San Francisco, CA

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This sandwich was quite a pleasant surprise! When I order a torta I expect a particular construction and style, the center of which is a large fluffy roll. As you can plainly see in the above photo that is not what I got. This sandwich was served on a thin roll grilled crispy. The carnitas and the guacamole were decent enough but unspectacular and the sour cream was a bit heavy handed but all together this sandwich was a nice change of pace from the standard. I have been accused in the past of holding too fast to the traditional idea of what makes a sandwich and I have always offered in my defense that I do not object to things done differently, only things done poorly. This sandwich is a perfect example, it was not at all what I was expecting but it was quite good.

Roast Pork – Philippe’s French Dip Restaurant, N Alameda St, Los Angeles, CA

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Roast Pork, Twice Dipped

Some time ago I updated this blog with a bit of a complaint about repeatedly being served things that were not sandwiches. I realize that this is no great affliction in life, but all the same I am afraid it tempered my enthusiasm for a fine sandwich. Too many times sitting down for a treat and finding a split roll, I suppose. That said I am not posting today to detail the cooling of my passions, but the opposite. I am posting today to describe how my love for sandwiches was restored.

Phillipe’s is a Los Angeles institution, and the sandwich that they present is one of simple perfection. It is roast meat dipped in juice and served on a french roll. Cheese is available but is not a standard part of the sandwich and mustard is provided at each table but obviously is also optional. Phillipe’s is one of two places laying claim to inventing the French Dip sandwich and you could not ask for a better example of the type. The meat is hot, tender and flavorful, roasted until it sings. It comes dipped in hot drippings and if one so desires the sandwich can be “twice dipped” for maximum effect. Though I have heard tale of sandwiches so juicy that they had to be eaten over a bowl it was my experience that the french roll held together just until it was devoured. The mustard provided is heavy on the horseradish but I found it to be a wonderful compliment to the sandwich.

I cannot imagine anything more simple than the French Dip. Upon taking a bite I was instantly angry I had not ordered two. It was the very essence of the sandwich and exactly what I needed.