Tag Archives: Reviews by Pete

Smoked Chicken & Pepper Jam Sandwich – Made at Home

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pepper jamI’ve typed three hundred words about this sandwich, twice. I’ve also deleted them twice because I’ve realized that I’m dancing around an ugly truth: This wasn’t that good. It wasn’t that bad, either, but that’s the most damning thing of all. I’ve long railed against the mediocre here, sandwiches without even the courage to be bad. I should make no efforts to spare myself when that’s where I end up, and that means calling this sandwich what it is: just OK. Pepper jam came as a suggested ingredient via Twitter, and I have to say that it left me stumped for quite some time. Brie was a suggestion I got at the same time, and it was no great labor to produce the delightful brie & lamb meatball sandwich and associated numbers. But pepper jam? If you’re unfamiliar, it’s what it says on the tin, a jam made of sweet and hot peppers. It’s got quite a bit of spice to it, but like any jam the dominant note is sweetness. The flavor isn’t complex, but it struck me as quite hard to pair. I eventually settled on smoked chicken and bacon, because it seemed like it might give it a savory depth that would play well with the sweet. Or well enough, anyway.

I hesitate to say that this was the best I could do with the pepper jam. Some things just aren’t meant to be on sandwiches, but I’m not at all convinced this is one of them. I simply didn’t try as hard as I could, settling for good enough, and for this I beg your forgiveness. I intend to revisit the issue. You deserve more, as readers. The pepper jam deserves more, as pepper jam. I don’t see it as a simple task, but it’s a worthy one. As always, any suggestions are welcome.

Lomo – Marcona Restaurant, Melrose Ave, Los Angeles, CA

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lomoIt’s not at all clear to me why the lomo comes with a full third of the filling spilled out between the two halves of the sandwich. Perhaps the bakery was short on properly sized rolls. I’ve griped before about being served a sandwich that has already surrendered to falling apart, but there was no fork in sight. It was simply a sandwich, plus a small pile of stuff. Maybe that would be enough to raise my ire on some days, but the day I visited Marcona wasn’t one of them. Of course, the fact that I was served a delicious sandwich goes a long way in mitigating any nosense in the serving. The lomo is spiced pulled pork, parsnips, onion, date mustard, arugula and manchego cheese on ciabatta. The cheese wasn’t really necessary, an issue I’ve discussed at length, but it also wasn’t objectionable. The pork is the real winner here, but really the whole lineup is worth praising. It’s always nice to see something like pulled pork out of its standard context, the date mustard has a pleasantly sweet backbone, the parsnips and onions providing a contrast in texture, but not aggressively so. The arugula has that peppery bite to it, which is more than welcome given the richness of the pork. Each ingredient played its assigned part, and together they made for well more than the sum of their parts. The first quality is balance, the second is harmony, and together they make for an excellent sandwich.

Brussels Sprouts Sandwich – Made at Home

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brusselssproutsTheoretically, one could make a sandwich out of anything. One shouldn’t, though, because there are lots of things that simply don’t lend themselves to the format. After spotting some gorgeous green and purple Brussels sprouts at the farmer’s market, I had to wonder just how they would fare. After a while, it was clear that the only way to test it out was to give it a shot. So I thought about the kinds of things normally served with sprouts, and in short order I had my game plan. If Brussels sprouts were ever going to work, they were going to work in this sandwich. Roasted garlic on the bottom. A layer of bacon over that, and deeply caramelized onions on top of the bacon. Then the sprouts, which had been tossed with salt and pepper and a touch of bacon grease and then roasted until beginning to brown. On top of the sprouts went some blue cheese crumbles and toasted walnuts, both scattered so as to not appear in every bite. Brown mustard capped things off, and the lot of it went between two pieces of sourdough, the particulars of which I will come to in a moment.

Friends, I was struck dumb. It’s a feeling familiar to many enthusiasts, but I took a bite of this sandwich and then stopped, staring down at my hand. It was transcendent. Every piece worked in concert with every other piece, and together they formed a rich medley that was far beyond the sum of its parts. The roasted garlic was as delicious as roasted garlic always is, bacon was salty and savory (let it never be said that I am categorically against bacon), the onions brought a welcome sweetness that tempered the deep richness of the sprouts, and the bites were divided between being capped by a tang of cheese or an echoing nuttiness. It may seem that I stacked the deck, but I genuinely felt that sprouts had such a distinct flavor they needed all of this to create the harmony that a great sandwich requires. The nuts could probably go and they wouldn’t be missed, but with any other ingredient removed I feel like this sandwich takes a big step down.

A note about the bread: Brussels sprouts, shaped as they are, present a great risk of filling creep. Even after being halved for the roasting, they still make for tricky sandwich assembly and even trickier eating. In order to solve this problem I cheated a bit, namely by selecting bread that had a nice dome to it. I used a miniature sourdough round, but anything with the proper shape will do. After slicing it in two, I went about scraping much of the bread out of the top half of the sandwich. This always feels like a bit of a betrayal to me – bread brings so much to sandwiches and here I am, telling much of it to get lost. But that’s the only way this works, is to hollow out the top half so that it forms something of a cap over the ingredients. When constructing the sandwich I left a clear lip so that the bread might be flush with the bottom half at the edges, and all together the sandwich was as manageable as could be. There was still some creep out of the front, but it really was as stable as I could reasonably ask.

I am usually fairly conservative in my home sandwiches, preferring to let more skilled chefs explore the margins. But if a few more sandwiches turn out like this one, it won’t be long before I’m keen to put just about anything between bread.

The Mousa – Storefront Deli, Hollywood Blvd, Los Feliz

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storefront deliStorefront Deli is another establishment with more than its fair share of hype, and the reputation is not entirely undeserved. It’s run by the same people responsible for Salt’s Cure, which I understand to be a fine restaurant that routinely puts out all manner of delicious, exciting food. Storefront Deli, as the name indicates, is an attempt to give that spirit an everyday sort of veneer, to make a supremely innovative potato salad available all the time, on demand. The ingredients are lovingly sourced and even more lovingly prepared, with plenty of house-cured this and that. In the Mousa’s case it’s salami cotto, bologna, sopressata and provolone on a fairly-soft roll with hots, red onion and lettuce.

This is a very good sandwich, and it costs $12. Sandwiches in Los Angeles are expensive relative to a lot of other places, and there have been plenty of sandwiches on this blog that cost that and more where I haven’t found the price worth mentioning. It’s worth mentioning here, though, for the very simple reason that this sandwich is almost certainly not worth $12.

Some time ago I covered what I consider the platonic ideal of the grinder, and this sandwich should not be confused with that one. This one is dealing with more subtle flavors, putting forth a much smaller serving and asking the consumer to pay attention to the details. Those details are exceptionally well crafted, and the result is likely as good as this sort of sandwich is likely to get. But they’re still just cold cuts. Some associates may disagree with me on this, but at the end of the day bologna is still bologna. The ceiling on lunch meat just isn’t that high, and that isn’t likely to change despite the efforts of well-intentioned artisans.

So the thing is that the $12 price may be entirely justified. It may even be necessary—making money in the restaurant game is no small task, and I begrudge no one their need to set prices where they need to in order to succeed. With the highest-quality meats being brought in, and much time and care put into their preparation, it seems reasonable to me that this sandwich would be more expensive than a similar sort of sandwich that doesn’t have the detailed quite so well thought out. But the question of whether or not the price is justified has to come second to the question of whether or not it’s worth it. In my estimation, it’s not. All the care and attention in the world does not save cold cuts from being cold cuts, and if all that care and attention means you end up with a $12 sandwich, I’l be seeking my sandwiches elsewhere.

Roasted Beets and Pastrami Sandwich – Made at Home

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beetsandpastramiThis sandwich was the result of a simple question. I wondered if pastrami and roasted beets might go together, and so I investigated just that. It seems straightforward enough in concept, the savory, just-salty-enough presence of the pastrami and the sweetness of roasted beets. Arugula brought a bit of pepper to round things out, and a red pepper sort-of-pesto was the final addition. (I thought that the sweetness of the beets might not be enough, so a mash of red peppers, garlic, almonds and some Parmesan offered some support.)

Is there a bigger delight in sandwiches than trying something new and finding out it works? Such simple exploration yields tasty results and another reminder of just how wonderful sandwiches can be. They can be quite complicated, and a truly great sandwich is a rather difficult thing to construct. But a tasty, satisfying number usually isn’t far off, provided you’ve got a few things that are likely to taste good together. Pastrami and beets fit the bill, and now that I know it works, I imagine my future likely holds some quality pastrami and more stained fingers.

Banh Mi – Ink Sak, Melrose Ave, Los Angeles, CA

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Here is a notable fact about this sandwich: I couldn’t taste the cilantro. This is a banh mi, ostensibly, and I couldn’t taste the cilantro. Forget the categorical distinction: This was something with cilantro on it, and I couldn’t taste the cilantro. It’s a mystery to me how one would even eliminate the assertive, floral taste of cilantro, but the sandwich world is nothing if not full of surprises.

This is another cute take on the banh mi, and instead of the traditional delight of a sandwich I got something that was cold, bland, and had chicharrónes on it for some reason. I’m not categorically against taking a sandwich archetype and re-imagining it, but for goodness’ sake if you’re going to do such a thing, do it well. Mendocino Farms also pulled this stunt and missed the mark, but at least they ended up with a decent sandwich. Ink Sak has quite a reputation, but nothing I sampled suggested to me that they deserve it.

Brie Sandwiches – Made at Home

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Recently I took to polling associates via Twitter about what manner of sandwiches they might like to see, and brie was one of the answers that came back. That sounded like a fine idea to me, and after a bit of thinking I had two ideas ready to go.
brie1The first, seen above, is a simple sandwich of roasted garlic, red lettuce, slices of roasted portobello mushroom, and brie. The brie was softened a bit and spread on the top half of the bun, and a layer of roasted garlic went on the bottom half. This is one of those straightforward numbers that’s either going to sound good to you or it isn’t, and little I say can sway anyone in one direction or the other. If you like mushrooms, this is outstanding. The portobello is its meaty, delicious self, the roasted garlic is sweet and subtle, and the tangy brie sets off the other two flavors quite nicely. The final sandwich had a bit more brie than what you see above, because I started with a moderate amount in hopes of avoiding an overwhelming presence. I’m no great cheese booster, and so I prefer a careful hand. If you love the stuff, by all means pile it on.

brie2The second sandwich I put together is a bit more complicated. Technically speaking, it’s boulettes d’agneau avec espagnole et brie, which is to say it’s a meatball sub, except the meatballs are made of lamb, the sauce is brown sauce, and the cheese is brie. This, friends, was outstanding. I buttered the bread and put it face-down in a skillet before assembling the sandwich, and this was the touch that walked the sandwich just to the edge of too much. That I had the meatball sub archetype to guide me helps, as it kept me from piling on ingredients that would have done little but turn a lovely ensemble into a cacophonous chorus.

The lamb isn’t subject to much, just a little cumin, garlic, salt and pepper before being browned in a skillet and put into the oven. The sauce is the standard mother sauce formula of mirepoix, roux, brown stock and spices. The brie is the brie, and all together that’s a recipe for something that is very nearly too rich, but in the end just right. This was a delight, the bite of the brie cutting through the rich notes of the other ingredients, the savory presence of the lamb and the sauce pulled back just enough. (This sandwich also featured more brie than pictures, for the same reasons mentioned above.)

Not every sandwich I make is a success, and I’m happy to own up when something doesn’t turn out as well as it could, but I’m also not embarrassed to announce when I’ve got something that works. This is a fine, fine sandwich.

Short Rib and Mac and Cheese – Lemonade, Los Angeles, CA

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lemonadeLemonade is a Los Angeles chain, a cafeteria-style eatery built around a variety of salads and braised meats. They also do sandwiches, most of which appear to be straightforward offerings with faith in their own simplicity. The short rib mac & cheese is a good example, as it’s nothing but pot-roasted short ribs and a helping of macaroni and cheese grilled between two thin sheets of ciabatta bread. There’s really very little bread at all, just a pair of crusts.

I talk a lot about how awful things can be when someone just aims for ‘good enough.’ To my mind, being content with mediocre is unforgivable, and it would be easy to see this sandwich as committing just such a sin. It doesn’t, however, and escaping that fate is a result of some subtle touches. The bread is a good example of what they’re doing right, as it neatly avoids the pitfalls of starch on a sandwich.

Most sandwiches deal strictly with a starch / something else / starch setup, and the reason they do that is because it’s what works. Bread, a contrasting substance, and more bread. That’s what a sandwich is. Adding a starch in the middle throws the whole balance off, and while many successful sandwiches incorporate some manner of starch (fried potatoes, usually), it’s a higher degree-of-difficulty. Lemonade solves this problem simply by stripping the bread to its bare essentials. There’s no fluff, very little chew, it’s just enough to hold things together. That’s the kind of thing that shows someone really thought this sandwich through. They didn’t simply slap two delicious ingredients together and call it a day. That makes all the difference, and ultimately one can hardly be accused of settling for good enough when the result is genuinely great.

Brentwood – Roast Deli & Market, Brentwood Village, Los Angeles

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When I left San Jose, I did so with a mournful note about leaving the bánh mì behind. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t be able to get them in LA, I noted, it was just that they wouldn’t be abundant. My early experience living in Southern California has borne that out, but it isn’t as if the place is a wasteland. Los Angeles has its own specialties, things that seem to appear on more menus than not. Pastrami is one of them, and brisket is another.

It’s brisket that fills the Brentwood sandwich at Roast Deli and Market. Tender, falling-apart slices of beef brisket join coleslaw, russian dressing and spicy mustard on Bavarian rye bread. That’s a fine lineup, and in concept I find very little with which to quibble. In execution, though, there are a few things that could have used some improvement. The mustard could have been spicier, but that’s some matter of taste and in any event a small matter. A bigger issue is the coleslaw.

With the brisket so delightfully soft in texture, the coleslaw plays a vital role in the sandwich. It offers contrast in texture, something with a bit of crunch to it to load the front of the bite, yielding then to the rich meat. It’s a simple but effective setup, but where Roast goes wrong is in mincing their coleslaw. It’s tough to make out in the photo, but there’s much too fine a dice on the coleslaw, leaving no substantial snap to offer contrast. And that’s too bad, because this could have been a very fine sandwich. The meat is juicy, the other flavors are well-balanced and highlight the meat, but ultimately the error in execution results in a disappointing sandwich.

Braised Short Rib – Fundamental LA, Westwood Blvd, Los Angeles, CA

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I’ve talked about Fundamental LA before, and what I found there last time was so delightful that a second trip was never in question. Thinking back to the braised short rib I enjoyed so much at Little Chef Counter, I elected for the sandwich of the same name at Fundamental. Aside from the name and the primary ingredient, though, neither sandwich has much in common with the other. In Fundamental’s case, it’s braised short rib with go chu jang, dandelion greens, pickled mung beans and garlic aioli on brioche.

That’s not your average lineup for a sandwich, and as with any stand-out sandwich lineup, there’s an implicit statement. In this case, I would venture that anyone who puts pickled mung beans on their sandwich is loudly proclaiming that they know what they’re doing. It’s a bold, almost pungent flavor and it would be all too easy for them to overwhelm a sandwich, even one anchored with the deep richness of short ribs. In this case, things are tempered by not only the beef but dandelion greens (an underrated source of richness when handled properly) and go chu jang, a fermented chili paste that brought exactly the kind of heat needed to corral the other flavors.

In short, the sandwich was phenomenal. Pickled mung beans on a sandwich are a promise, a pledge not to screw things up. Fundamental LA delivers.