Tag Archives: Sandwiches I Have Made

Bacon, Egg & Avocado – Made at Home

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On a recent Saturday morning, after a morning of yoga and other elements of physical culture, I stood in the kitchen wondering what I should have for breakfast. Now, after one’s gotten one’s sutras in order and engaged in bouts of meaningful vigor, it’s important to keep the momentum rolling. That’s not the kind of day where you want to become a lump on the couch. No, it’s a day where you immediately want to set out and achieve great things. And so it was that I started with a couple of sandwiches.

I fried up a few slices of bacon in a skillet, with enough of the fat reserved afterwards to fry a couple of eggs. But before the eggs went in I went for a special touch. I put a few minced cloves of garlic down, waiting a minute for the flavor to develop, then cracking the eggs into the pan directly on top of the garlic. (Truth be told it was more than a few cloves, when it comes to garlic I’ve a heavy hand and offer no apologies.) The egg white held the garlic in place as it cooked, and when the eggs went between wheat toast the garlic came with it. Each sandwich was two slices of bacon, one egg, half an avocado, some cracked black pepper and a few dashes of hot sauce. They were transcendent. A little heat, obscenely rich, and underwritten by delicious, toasted, savory garlic. The avocado was perfectly ripe, offering that instantly-yielding hint of firmness that stood as a subtle middleman to the toast and the egg. An East Coast associate tells me that he has to give up on avocados this time of year, that by the time they get to him they’re completely bereft of flavor. It breaks my heart that he’ll have to wait months to give this sandwich a shot, but I hope when he finds himself in warmer days he does so immediately. This wasn’t a complicated sandwich, it wasn’t revolutionary or an amazing discovery. But it was incredibly delicious, and I suspect that it will quickly find a spot as one of my regulars.

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.

Fried Peanut Butter & Banana – Made at Home

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A homemade fried peanut butter and banana sandwich on fresh baked bread

Can a dead man have a birthday? There is an anniversary of his death, certainly, but to me a birthday seems like an event that requires one be present. In order to celebrate a birthday one has to be alive, at the very least. I suspect, though, that I am in the minority on this matter. Every year, shortly after New Years, January 8th comes around and we are all reminded that it is Elvis’ birthday. Elvis is obviously a titan of a man, and I suppose if anyone is capable of celebrating a birthday from beyond the grave it is him.

Every so often one has to stop and think about how we will be remembered. Like most people, I hope to be remembered as a kind and charitable man, thought of fondly by those I love. But, I confess, I am greedy. I want more than that. I want something that I have seen in Elvis’ legacy. I am jealous not of his estate, or his lasting musical career. I’m jealous of the fact that everyone knows he loved a sandwich. The fried peanut butter and banana sandwich is his. You cannot consider it without thinking of him, it is his essence, presented in sandwich form. He may not be known for the sandwich but the sandwich is absolutely known for him, and I can only dream of taking such an association to my grave.

Seeing as it was the anniversary of the man’s birth, I tried to do his sandwich justice. The bread was a classic American sandwich bread, fresh out of the oven and made by my own hands. A fellow sandwich enthusiast was highly suspicious of my making a sandwich out of white bread. The man is forever on the hunt for flavor and as he told me, “I have yet to find a reason to hold any respect for white bread at all.” “It’s Elvis’ sandwich,” I told him. “What, are you going to use 7-grain?” Peanut butter went down on both slices of bread, sliced banana and a drizzle of honey in the middle. Fried in a skillet in enough butter to make me reconsider what I was doing entirely, the sandwiches came out wonderfully. The buttery, nutty sweetness is a celebratory decadence, a powerful combination that must be eaten a little bit at a time. I kept a tall glass of milk close by and took in the sandwich as it deserved. I may never be so known for any particular item but please, remember me as a man who loved a good sandwich.

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.

Chicken & Cheese on a Croissant – Made at Home

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chickencroissant

This sandwich, made for my by an associate, falls into the popular “tasty but lacking” category. It was a simple combination of grilled chicken, tomato and muenster cheese on a croissant, topped with a bit of garlic mustard. The flavors played nicely together though I feel they all could have stood to be a bit louder. But these are minor quibbles, as I said the sandwich was tasty. The only real problem was the croissant. Holding a grilled chicken sandwich together is a bit much to ask of a croissant. It’s flaky and delicious but it’s not quite substantial enough, falling apart as you try to hold it together. Still, with a different choice of bread and a bit more garlic I get the feeling this could be a very good sandwich.

Portebello & Goat Cheese – Made at Home

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mushroomcheesefinal

There was no high minded goal with this sandwich. I simply set out to make myself a tasty sandwich and I am pleased to say that I succeeded. I marinated portobello mushrooms in olive oil, lemon juice and garlic then wrapped them in foil and grilled them until tender. Crumbled goat cheese made the next layer, slices of cucumber were laid down for their fresh snap and caramelized onions finished the sandwich with their buttery sweetness. It was all piled on to a grilled roll that had been prepped with a garlic butter. For my money grilling makes the best sandwich bread. You get warm, soft bread with just the right amount of crunch. Some sandwiches benefit from the all-over toasting or methods such as stale bread but for the general sandwich I prefer the grill. I wouldn’t say there was anything special about this effort but it resulted in a tasty, flavorful sandwich. What I am left to consider, then, is the mushrooms.

When I sat down to write this review the first word I thought to describe it was ‘meaty.’ Now this is both a failure of my imagination and a statement about my choice in mushrooms but a quick google search reveals that I have nearly 8 million other people to keep me company, all of us talking about meaty mushrooms. Is this what the mushroom deserves? It seems the mushroom is most often considered as an accent and when it is given a starring role it is cast in contrast to what it is. I ask myself if this sandwich honestly celebrated the mushroom and I am not sure of the answer. And so we make another entry on the list of sandwiches to make; one that savors mushrooms. Mushrooms are a broad category and their nuanced textures and flavors deserve to be highlighted better that they were here. I may have made myself a fine sandwich but I am forced to admit I should have aimed higher.

Whitefish & Fried Polenta – Made at Home

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polenta

Any fool can pile ingredients so high that the sandwich is evacuated when you try and hold it. When given the chance to make their own sandwiches young children will often exercise little restraint with condiments. Grape jelly and relish do not compliment each other and if you employ both on the same sandwich you will have failed to achieve what I consider to be the most important element of a sandwich: Balance. In a truly great sandwich every element relates to the others. The flavors of any condiments play off the flavors of the main ingredient, contrasting textures come together to form a whole, and any strong ingredients like cheese or bacon are properly restrained into their supporting roles. It is a delicate harmony but any great sandwich must have balance.

If balance is a delicate harmony, my friends, then I am sad to say that this sandwich was a tepid bleat. I am being harsh, both associates who enjoyed this sandwich with me indicated it was tasty, but I feel to be fair I must be as harsh on my own creations as I am on those served to me elsewhere. The origin of this sandwich was the simple sun-dried tomato. In order to temper their bold flavor a bit I toasted some garlic and roasted a few red peppers and combined everything into a loose paste. Fish suggested itself and so the final major question was that of texture. Now, I believe contrasting textures are important in a sandwich but to always run to diametric opposites is a mistake. To put light, flaky fish on a hard, crusty roll would leave me with a sandwich that all but disintegrated while I tried to eat it. The classic ‘grinder’ ideal has its place but it wasn’t on this sandwich. The roll would have to be soft though in the end I toasted it a bit so that it would have a light crunch before giving way. I decided that my contrasting texture would come from fried polenta and I’m afraid that is where I went wrong. My experience working with polenta is limited and I just didn’t get it to fry up to the crisp I needed for this sandwich. It browned a bit but I was aiming for something more like polenta chips, something with true crunch to sit opposed to the soft fish and a soft roll. The crunch was absent and into its absence fell the entire sandwich.

The sandwich came together like so: The sun-dried tomatoes, roasted red peppers and toasted garlic were processed into a paste. The rolls were lightly toasted in the oven. The polenta was fried in a rosemary/lemon compound butter, the fish fillets simply got a little salt & pepper and were pan-fried in olive oil. A bit of mozzarella cheese was added though not too much, as I am ever wary of cheese overpowering the rest of the sandwich. In the final analysis I think that light hand might have been my undoing. The sun-dried tomato paste that I set out to highlight wasn’t as flavorful as it could have been, I included no vegetables and in general went for the minimal sandwich. With polenta fried up right and some bigger flavors I think this might be quite a sandwich. As it stands, though, this was a bland sandwich.

Smoked Turkey and Bacon – Made at Home

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Smoked Turkey and Bacon – Made at an associates house, Boston, MA

Smoked Turkey & Bacon Sandwich

In the quest for the most rarefied of sandwich airs, for perfection, I sometimes forget that at its heart the sandwich is a humble meal. And while the best sandwiches are slaved over, tried again and again until they are perfect, sometimes some things are just thrown between two slices of bread and then consumed. On a trip to Boston some time ago I arrived at an associates house rather peckish. He offered me his fridge, and so I hastily assembled what you see above.

Cibatta bread holds about a quarter pound of smoked turkey, a few slices of cheese, a leaf or two of lettuce, a generous helping of mustard, and three slices of bacon. Salt & pepper finish it off. The sandwich is what you expect it to be, the turkey flavorful but not greatly so, the bacon savory and with a proper crunch. I would not say I was “wowed,” but my stomach was filled and my taste buds were pleased. I suppose we all need a reminder from time to time of the sandwich as a utility, rather than as art. Whatever its role, this was a good sandwich.

Pork Shoulder & Mojo Sauce – Made at Home

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pork-shoulder-final

There are a range of possible reactions when one bites into a sandwich. For example, one can be satisfied or pleased. You might express the former with a simple exclamation of “mmmmm” and the latter by pointing frantically, trying to motion to an associate that the combination of this spread with that meat is simply sublime. On the other end of the spectrum you might be disappointed in a sandwich, letting loose a puzzled “hrmmm” as you wonder what went wrong. These are fairly average reactions and as you dine on a wide range of sandwiches I’m sure you’ll find yourself expressing these reactions and more. Beyond that range of average reactions, dear reader, are truly rare sandwich related feelings, and it is my hope that you will one day dine on a sandwich that makes you feel as this one made me.

I took one bite and could feel my shoulders turn inward as my head slumped down. I cursed and was instantly disappointed. Not in the way that you might assume, the sandwich itself was amazing. I was very, very disappointed in myself for a very simple reason: This was the only pork shoulder sandwich I had and the odds that I would soon have another one were not good. This, friends, was so fine a sandwich that before the conclusion of the first bite I was angry I did not have another.

I wish that I could impress you with my sandwich ingenuity, but the beauty of this sandwich is that I did no more than millions of my fellow sandwich enthusiasts do every night. I reheated some leftovers, split a roll, added mustard and there it was. I am simply lucky in that I was starting with some very good leftovers. Earlier in the week I had roasted a pork shoulder with a wet rub of garlic, cumin, orange juice and other spices. It was served with a sauce of olive oil, orange juice and garlic. So later in the week when I found a few slices of pork shoulder in the fridge I went to work. A few tablespoons of leftover mojo sauce went into a pan where they were soon joined by some onions. Once the onions softened the whole of it was set aside, and into the pan went 2 or 3 slices of pork shoulder, making sure to include plenty of the flavorful crust. Once the pork was hot it was laid onto a grilled roll, the onions and sauce laid on top of that, and finally a thin layer of mustard went onto the top half of the roll. I took a quick picture with my phone and retired with my sandwich to the living room, where I sat down and experienced the most profound disappointment of my gastronomic life.

The pork was tender and moist, the crust flavorful and just chewy enough. The sauce presented a mellow garlic flavor that paired well with the mustard as well as a tang amplified by the sauteed onions. If the Bánh Mì suggests the idea of sandwiches as a religion, this simple sandwich I pulled from my fridge is a vision. Truly, it was a very fine sandwich.