Tag Archives: Sandwiches I Have Made

Boston Brown Bread & Bacon – Made at Home

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That sandwich is bacon and cantaloupe. If you’re making a sour face right now, bear with me. It was worth trying. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more natural the idea seemed to be. The other day I was soliciting ideas for what I might pair with a loaf of Boston brown bread, a rye/corn/whole wheat flour quickbread with a heavy dose of molasses. Something salty and savory seemed like the obvious choice, and within that category nothing leaps to mind faster than bacon. That’s a lazy choice, but I was already making the bread. 60 Minute IPA Pork Belly sandwiches would have to wait. Having settled on bacon, I solicited further ideas as to what else might go well. Associates suggested various items, all of them well within sandwich making tradition, until one associate offered a simple, one word suggestion: “cantaloupe.” At first I thought he was putting me on, but this was the person who had hipped me to the Nobadeer. The least I could do was take his suggestion seriously.

“Fast for a day,” I sometimes advise people, “then brainstorm sandwiches. In hunger, your brain will abandon fear and false limitations.” By the time I was seriously considering a bacon and cantaloupe sandwich, I hadn’t eaten in around 14 hours. I wasn’t about to faint, but it was long enough that my definition of “reasonable” had become more yielding. So I decided to try it. I wasn’t going to add anything else. The deep sweetness of the molasses, the salty, smoky bacon, and the bright sweetness of the fruit was precarious enough. No need to complicate things further.

It wasn’t bad. I wish I had a more dramatic result for you, in either direction. Many of you know how I feel about mediocrity, so I really do wish I could tell you it was shockingly good, or as terrible as your first instinct might have suspected. The bacon and the bread paired very well. The cantaloupe was a little incongruous, but not terribly so. Maybe I oversimplified, and with a few more ingredients a great sandwich would emerge. In any case, my curiosity had been satisfied. I moved on to other matters.

This was the first sandwich that had followed from the “bread, bacon, then what?” question. Sweet potato fries and green apple slaw together with the molasses resulted in three different levels of sweetness, each picking up where the other left off. This sandwich, like the other, wasn’t particularly fancy. It’s just a few things stacked between bread, but I figured it didn’t need anything else. Why gussy it up with an aioli, a bed of endive, or a jalapeño relish? Though the sandwich looked a bit plain, nothing else was needed so nothing else was added. The quality of this sandwich was miles above the other. The varying levels of sweetness worked very well together, and the various textures also worked in harmony. The bread was dense and chewy, the apples crisp, and the potatoes soft with a bit of crisp. Truth be told after, sampling half of the bacon/cantaloupe number I slid the melon off the second half and added the fries/slaw combination. Speaking of halves, the bread was a bit of a disappointment. Boston brown bread is traditionally a quickbread, and between the lack of yeast and my sub-par baking skills, it baked up into a squat, dense loaf. It was tasty enough, but it didn’t exactly provide the right base for the heaping sandwich I had imagined. That said, size and taste don’t have too much influence on each other, and this was a very tasty sandwich.

Pulled Chicken Sandwich — Made At Home

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I admit that this is something of a cheat…two cheats, actually. The first cheat is that this coda to our Pulled Porkstravaganza is actually the second pulled chicken sandwich to be featured during the celebration. The second cheat is that, although this sandwich was technically made at home, it was assembled from bought parts.

Inspiration struck at Whole Foods, when I noticed that they were not only selling fresh-made barbecue pulled chicken alongside the soups on offer, but they were also peddling pretzel baguettes, in the same vein as the pretzel roll I had enjoyed so long ago. On the spot, I decided to create something of a simple “greatest hits” sandwich.

I sliced the pretzel baguette and heaped on the pulled chicken, then smeared the top half of the bread liberally with the incomparable Philippe’s mustard. The end result was simple, elegant, and as pleasing as I’d hoped. The chicken was fresh and tender, yet firm, which was key, as it complemented the pretzel roll. I fear that, had the pretzel roll been paired with pulled pork, the pork would not have the weight needed to counteract the very unique bread. The sauce on the chicken was just enough, but the mustard really set the whole thing off. The Philippe’s mustard has a well-earned attitude that cut through the sauce nicely and added zing to the enterprise. (By contrast, I tried a tiny version of this sandwich with Beaver brand Sweet Hot mustard, and it didn’t stand up nearly as well. Beaver is a fine mustard, but didn’t cut through the sauce like Philippe’s.)

In essence, this is a fine sandwich that you can build for yourself if you have access to a Whole Foods. I highly recommend it.

 

Grilled Kimchi Mac & Cheese – Made at Home

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A grilled sandwich of kimchi, mac & cheese and other cheeses.I wanted to make a kimchi sandwich. The idea had come into my head after thinking about the Canter’s Reuben and how important the sauerkraut is. (I will stop talking about the Reuben soon, I promise.) A sauerkraut sandwich didn’t sound very appealing, though, and in ruminating on things I settled on kimchi. Cousin to sauerkraut, it seemed like it might have the verve necessary to be the starring ingredient in a sandwich. Associates cautioned me against it, but I wanted the challenge. And a challenge it was! Pairing some manner of pork with the kimchi seemed natural but would clearly overshadow the cabbage. I thought about the quinoa and parmesan mix from the squash sandwich I had last winter, thinking that something nutty and smooth would be a nice contrast. Various combinations of rice and egg were suggested, but they seemed logistically risky and unlikely to be rewarding. It was my esteemed colleague Bill who finally came up with the right idea. Kimchi, he said, would go well in a grilled cheese.

From there my own mind was off like a shot. Grilled cheese can be good, but all too often any substantial amount of cheese in the middle becomes soupy. What if instead of just cheese I used macaroni and cheese, providing both a mild cheddar flavor and a contrasting texture? Cheddar wasn’t going to be the only cheese flavor involved, of course. Provolone and smoked gouda were quickly recruited, a sourdough round was obtained and the whole thing was ready to come together beautifully. It wasn’t perfect—it could have used more gouda, I went easy on it thinking the smoke might overpower things—but for a first attempt I was pretty pleased. The textures worked together as well as I’d hoped they would, the spicy kimchi and the cheese played off each other and altogether the whole thing was delicious. I’m not of the opinion that anything can be the base of a sandwich, but there are certainly a lot of options to explore. I was quite pleased to see that kimchi was splendid in a starring role.

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?

Crumb Donut & Ice Cream – Made at Home

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I am something of an active individual. I see much value in the pursuit of physical culture, and so I pursue with great vigor in a variety of ways. I do this both for its own sake and because it allows me certain indulgences in my diet. I earn a great deal in miles traveled and pounds lifted, and what good are things earned if you never cash them in?

And so it was that on a recent summer day I concluded a vigorous bit of cycling with a donut ice cream sandwich.  A donut was procured from a local shop, a pint of ice cream from the convenience store. I took a bit of the ice cream and fashioned a crude patty, which I returned to the freezer to firm up. It doesn’t take much to push me towards including a bit of summer fruit in things, so a nearby white peach was conscripted. The donut was sliced in half, the ice cream came out of the freezer, and I had myself a tremendously rich, creamy, fluffy, tender, aggressively sweet bit of indulgence. It was phenomenal.

When I decided that yes, I really was going to cut a donut in half and add some ice cream, I felt as if I might be transgressing the bounds of good sense. Adding the fruit only compounded that feeling, and I as I raised the sandwich to my mouth I felt for sure that I had gone too far. But in eating it my mind began to open to the possibilities.  A chocolate donut, for example, encrusted with lightly crushed graham crackers and holding a bit of marshmallow flavored ice cream would be a tremendous take on the s’more. The whole thing might be dipped in chocolate, leaving a shell to be devoured in concert with the decadence inside. Cracked nuts, macerated fruits, peanuts buttered…with each bite my mind reeled farther and farther away from what I was eating, creating ever more outlandish donut ice cream sandwiches.

This sandwich was otherworldly in its goodness. And, despite my initial thought that this was over the line, I now see that there are worlds beyond worlds, sandwiches of almost incomprehensible indulgence. But some doors are better left unopened. I cut a donut in half, added ice cream and fresh peaches, and I ate it. I believe I will strain my ear to catch the last echo of my good sense and hurry off after it.

Fried Egg & Anchovy – Made at Home

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I like anchovies. I like them quite a bit, and I’m a bit bewildered that they’ve got the reputation they do. The chewy fish run right up to the edge of “Mercy, this is too salty” and, in my opinion, stop just short. I think they’re delicious, but they’re not the easiest thing to incorporate into a meal. They’ve got quite an attitude, and they’re prone to standing at the forefront of a dish regardless of where you put them. So while I’m quick to try and incorporate them into a sandwich, the boldness they bring is of particular concern. A good sandwich, as we all know, relies on balance. What could stand against the anchovies? My thoughts quickly turned to eggs. A perfectly fried egg, the yolk warm and runny, is incredibly rich. That seemed like just the thing to balance out the anchovies.

I started with a large roll, spreading roasted garlic across the top and laying a bed of caramelized onions and tomatoes on the bottom. Now, I must admit that I can be a man of appetite and I’m unlikely to open a tin of anchovies then put some aside for later. This was where I first cast restraint aside, reasoning that I had a full tin of anchovies, so they all ought to all go on the sandwich. With that many anchovies, then, I figured that I needed two eggs to achieve the balance I was looking for. That decision, dear readers, would prove to be my undoing.

I like a soft yolk in my fried egg, and so I accept that any fried egg sandwich I make is probably going to be a bit messy. The egg/bacon/avocado breakfast sandwich I wrote about earlier was a bit messy, but the two sandwiches I prepared that day were both tremendous. And that’s the rub, friends. That day two sandwiches, this day one. And the gulf between two fried egg sandwiches and a sandwich with two fried eggs was one I wasn’t capable of crossing. This sandwich was just a complete mess. The roll just couldn’t handle all of that yolk. I was left with hands covered, but afraid that if I put the sandwich down I might never get it back together again. I would like to note that construction aside, this was a good sandwich. The flavors were on point, the richness of the eggs married with the anchovies exactly as well as I suspected it would. But I lost my head in making it, and absent proper restraint I can’t rightfully call this a good sandwich. I tried something and I failed. I learned a few things and I feel my next anchovy sandwich will be absolutely excellent, but there was no excellence here, just a lot of anchovies and a whole mess of egg yolk.

Beer Brat Sandwich — Made at Home

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Beer brats on sourdough. A few glimpses of bacon and avocado can be seen about the periphery.

Occasionally, one may find oneself in need of consuming leftover food before it had passed its date of expiry. It was such a day last week when I realized there were a few different items that would not last more than a day or two longer before needing to be either eaten or summarily tossed out. At once, my mind seized upon a plan of such base impulse that before I knew what madness had gripped me, I was simmering some leftover beer brats and toasting sourdough, while a pan of bacon cooked in the oven. As I sliced an avocado which was in its last few hours of ripeness, I took stock of what was happening and wondered if this was how the Earl of Sandwich himself must have felt: giddy, frantic, and chuckling a bit at the ridiculousness of it all.

As the Frankenstein’s monster of ingredients was being assembled into a sandwich — the brats sliced lengthwise to facilitate sandwichery, the avocado and bacon piled onto the toasted sourdough (one slice smeared with garlic mustard, the other with sweet relish) — I assumed that this was going to be a regrettable mistake. Surely there was no way — just no way — that the sandwich would be any better than its individual components. I was therefore overjoyed upon first bite. The combination of the brats and the bacon was lovely, and I was immediately glad the bacon had been baked rather than pan-fried. This smokiness — and dare I say meatiness — was both offset and complemented by the mustard and relish. The only component that was a bit overwhelmed was the avocado, but even that added a welcome creaminess to the enterprise.

What I had feared would be an inedible mess instead was a hearty and endlessly satisfying meal. There isn’t a thing I’d do differently, and if I owned a sandwich establishment this would be one of my featured items. Sometimes those little moments of madness can have a pleasing end result.

 

 

 

 

 

Tuna Steak Sandwich – Made at Home

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When I went to Ike’s Place, I tried the first sandwich on the menu for a reason. ” In that sandwich,” I wrote, “one often finds the favorite child; The sandwich loved longest, made most often, the sandwich in which someone’s dream begins to take form.” For me, this is that sandwich. Don’t get me wrong, I have no plans to open my own establishment any time soon, having no desire to turn my passion into my business and having no access to capital. But this is my sandwich. It is the sandwich I think of in idle moments, the sandwich that instills me in me a possibility I know I must pursue.

When I spoke of the tuna steak sandwich at Ramsi’s Cafe on the World in Louisville, I made it a point to mention how shameful most of the tuna we eat is. That still stands, one day the tuna fish will be gone and when we are asked about it all we will be able to do is lower our heads and think about how we allowed so magnificent a fish to be associated with such mediocre cuisine. This sandwich is an attempt at something better, a love note to a fish, an attempt to live up to a possibility.

I don’t have it quite right. It’s a good sandwich, probably the best I’ve ever made, but it isn’t quite right. The preparation starts with slices of carrot, about a sixteenth of an inch thick. They go into a marinade of soy sauce, rice vinegar and water (in a 1-1-1 ratio), ginger, toasted garlic, red pepper flakes and a touch of honey. After a few hours in there they come out, and the marinade goes into a skillet to be cooked down.  Similar slices of cucumber are prepared but left unadulterated. Wasabi mayo is prepared, with a strong emphasis on the wasabi. I’m no great fan of mayonnaise. In fact, my attitude might be best characterized as “tolerant.” It has its place, but if you use too much…well, I hope you’re right with the lord, because I’m not likely to forgive you. But I find it unobjectionable as a sort of neutral vehicle for another flavor, and it performed well here. The bread went into a 200 degree oven to really maximize the crisp, although I’m not really sure how much this adds to the final product. Anyhow, the tuna steak is coated on both sides with sesame seeds and black pepper, and it goes into a hot pan for a scant couple of minutes. Cooking tuna for a sandwich is no different than any other application, and as always it’s best to undershoot. After coming out of the pan the fish is cut into quarter inch slices, laid atop the carrots, and finally drizzled with the reduced marinade.

It isn’t quite right. Between the carrots and the sauce there’s too much soy. I still want to get the ginger and the garlic onto the sandwich, but I need to back off the soy somehow. Perhaps the ratios in the marinade can shift, I’m still not sure. I might have gone too heavy on the wasabi, although to be frank I prefer that to going light. The flavor of the fish is well represented in the sandwich, but it’s missing something that would bring the ingredients from combination to harmony. I think a bit more black pepper in the coating will help things come together. But don’t let me run this down! This is a damn fine sandwich, and I only spend so many words pointing out its flaws because I know what it is capable of. This is already the best sandwich I make, and it’s only going to get better.

A Tale of Two Sandwiches — Made at Home

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An associate of mine suggested a night of building sandwiches indoors and stretching out the hinges of a seldom-used sandwich press. Needless to say, I leaped at the opportunity. Fine, fresh ingredients were procured, with options for meat, bread, and accouterments. The first of my eventual creations, pictured above, was turkey with avocado, home-cooked bacon, Swiss cheese, tomato, lettuce, red onion, Philippe’s spicy mustard, salt, and pepper on olive rosemary bread.

The second sandwich consisted of ham, avocado, Swiss, tomato, onion, sprouts, bacon, and again, Philippe’s spicy mustard, this time on white French bread.

Both sandwiches were tasty, warm, crisp, and hearty. The sandwich press performed admirably and set one to wonder why it had heretofore been used so sparingly. The grill of the bread was enhanced by leaving a thin sheen of the bacon grease on its griddled surface before pressing the sandwiches. My two creations were roughly equivalent, but the few minor tweaks left one sandwich standing head and shoulders above the other.

The ham sandwich was good, and had it been the only sandwich made this evening, I would have nodded to myself, a job well done. Unfortunately, the degree to which the turkey sandwich came together exposed the shortcomings in my creation. Had I chosen to place sprouts on the turkey sandwich and lettuce on the ham sandwich, rather than vice versa, the two sandwiches would have achieved something closer to equilibrium. Sprouts, often masquerading as a “health-food item,” do not pair well with ham. They are usually seen on turkey or chicken, and, as I discovered tonight, for good reason. The earthy tone of the sprouts stood apart from the creaminess of the Swiss, the ham, and the avocado, which left two disparate tastes in the mouth, fighting for attention.

The other major factor here was the bread. The olive-rosemary loaf was spectacular, and took the press and the bacon grease with aplomb, bringing yet another layer of wondrous taste to an already spectacular sandwich. I feel bad for old ham on French, as he showed up on the wrong night and was outclassed. I look forward to many more nights spent with the sandwich press and a loaf of this fine bread.

Avocado, Lettuce, and Tomato — Made at Home

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Avocado, lettuce and tomato on sourdough, sliced in half.

Inspired by a sandwich I had a short time ago, I set about making a light and healthy — but still hearty — sandwich. A couple of fine avocados, some tomato and red-leaf lettuce, a drizzle of oil, and salt and pepper to taste. A bit of a different spin on the classic BLT, which on California menus all too often becomes the ubiquitous BLAT. I feared that bacon may have been missed in the creation, but I am pleased to report that the end result was a fine sandwich. The San Luis Sourdough, lightly toasted, was the perfect bread for the job. As a first attempt, it was a bit light on the salt and pepper, and romaine would be preferred over the red-leaf, but this is highly recommended as a quick and light sandwich.