Chicken Mama Mia – Crosby Connection, Bleeker St, New York, NY

The Chicken Mama Mia sandwich at Crosby Connection, New York City
Click for grainy close-up

When I first encountered the Crosby Sandwich Connection a few years ago, they were operating out of what appeared to be a large closet on Crosby Street. I mean that literally, the man who works the counter stood in a doorway while someone behind him put the sandwiches together, I’d be surprised if the place had a footprint of event sixty square feet. The cramped quarters didn’t put the squeeze on their sandwich making abilities, though, and during my time in New York they quickly became my first choice for lunch. Since then they’ve been at a few addresses, but now appear settled at 45 Bleeker, in the lobby of the Bleeker Street Theater. Location, of course, is always secondary to the sandwich, and Crosby Connection makes a fine sandwich. The Chicken Mama Mia is sliced chicken breast, fresh mozzarella, tomato basil sauce and ricotta cheese. The ricotta is really want makes things work, providing a slightly salty, creamy counternote to the sweetness of the tomato sauce. You’ll need a couple napkins, things slide around a bit, but it’s well worth the mess. Crosby Connection has about a dozen sandwiches on their menu, and I’d say they’re all worth your time.

#38 – Press 195, Bell Boulevard, Bayside, NY

The #38 at Press 195, in Bayside, NY
(Click for a grainy closeup)

Everything you need to know is right in the name. 195 is the street number of the original Brooklyn location, but it’s the other bit that interests me. Press is so named due to the centerpiece and vast majority of the menu being pressed sandwiches. Indeed, sandwiches get top billing with the restaurant;the bar offerings follow second. Press has a fine beer list, and in terms of non-sandwich items their Belgian fries really are outstanding, but personally I wouldn’t give a tenth of a fig if the sandwiches weren’t good. Well friends, I am happy to say that they are more than good. Press has forty hot sandwiches on offer, plus another half-dozen cold ones. The cold come on toasted Italian bread, while the hot come on an outstanding ciabatta bread. It’s got a wonderful crunch to it and yields perfectly to whatever it holds. With forty sandwiches some are bound to be better than others, but I’ve never had one that disappoints. The #38 was no exception. Grilled steak, avocado, sweet onion jam and fresh mozzarella all with a roasted pepper dressing all came together wonderfully. They have a light hand with the dressing, the onion jam doesn’t get lost, the whole thing is just a great sandwich. I’ve had a number of sandwiches recently about which I have nothing even remotely profound to say, so I won’t try. I’d simply like to present them here, share them with you, and together we can appreciate the finer parts of the sandwich world.

Southern Fried Chicken Sandwich – Flanagan’s Ale House, Baxter Ave Louisville, KY

Recently I was discussing sandwiches with a fellow enthusiast, and the conversation turned to what might be the worst possible sandwich. We both flexed our imaginations and plumbed the depths of our worst nightmares, coming up with a number of horrors. He suggested that the worst possible sandwich was some unholy combination involving white bread, bologna, individually wrapped slices of cheese (or possibly cheeze) and, if you can believe it, ranch dressing, ketchup, and yellow mustard. My position, though, was that when considering the worst sandwich while it might be fun to consider the worst possible sandwich, what is truly ghastly is to consider the worst sandwich that actually exists. While I’m not sure exactly what that sandwich is, I know that a strong argument can be made that it is currently sitting under a heat lamp.

As discerning sandwich consumers, I think we sometimes forget they exist. I think we get so lost in our own world that we forget that millions of times every day, for millions of people, a sandwich is ordered by number and comes wrapped in paper. Let me give you a specific example: I once found myself in a Jack in the Box near a cattle ranch in Coalinga, California. As is fitting in such a location, I was…I was in a bad way. And so I found myself sitting at a table, suffering the competing waves of screeching children being shouted down, staring at what the teenager behind the counter had called a Fish Sandwich.

The Fish Sandwich. A bun, roughly comparable to cotton in both taste and texture. A lonely leaf of iceberg lettuce. An inappropriate amount of mayonnaise. And finally, in the starring role, a piece of fish so thin you’d think it had been taken from an honest fillet with a woodworker’s plane. With a ratio of breading to fish of at least 3:1, this little pile just wasn’t worthy of the title sandwich.

But what does all of that have to do with the above? The Jack in the Box Chicken Sandwich might be the lowest of the low, but the high-end of that scale isn’t far off. Many people enjoy a particular brand of fast food sandwich, and I don’t mean to begrudge them that enjoyment. Chick-Fil-A, for example, has inspired fanaticism in fans of their simple chicken sandwiches. But even the best fast food sandwiches can barely be considered pedestrian. Take a moment to consider the above, and you see how easily such a thing is bested with a little effort. There’s nothing fancy about the fried chicken sandwich from Flangan’s Ale House. A chicken breast, breaded and freshly fried. A bit of lettuce, tomato, and onion, and the signature touch of pickles. Nothing fancy, but all of it well executed. And that, my friends, is the ultimate indictment of Jack and his ilk. You can forgive someone who aims high and falls short. It is easy to imagine someone without the means to do their best. But to see someone with such means and opportunity aim so low is truly despicable. The margin between simply being the best of a bad lot and being legitimately good is not so wide, and it is a shame more large-scale establishments do not try harder at crossing. Thankfully, we have establishments like Flanagan’s Ale House. There I found a fine sandwich, freshly fried, well seasoned, and tasty as could be.

Turkey & Chicken Pesto Sausage – Le Boulanger, Lincoln Ave, San Jose, CA

The chicken & turkey pesto sausage at Le Boulanger

Greasy Sandwich Month continues with this song of a sandwich from Le Boulanger. First of all, it’s always nice to get a sausage sandwich that is in fact a sandwich, and not a hot dog masquerading as a sandwich. I sometimes feel a fool interrogating some poor staff member about whether it comes on a bun or a roll, and is it horizontal, yes, horizontal, this way, not that way. Yes, I insist, I’m aware it says “sausage sandwich” on the menu but that can mean different things to different people, and I would really appreciate a degree of certainty before placing my order. I digress.

The joy in this particular sandwich is not a product of construction, but constitution. The seeded sourdough roll is baked up with a hearty crust, and as any experienced sandwich eater knows, a hearty crust necessitates proper technique. The sandwich must be gripped with pressure in just the right places, holding all ingredients together without sending them sliding straight out of the side. It is a careful application of force, and this made for a wonderful pairing with the sausage. Each squeeze wrung a little more juice out of each bite, and juice by another name is fat, and so we return to grease. Pleasing in taste and texture, this sandwich was awash, the pesto flavors playing well with the roasted red peppers and the baby greens. The provolone was lost somewhere in the song, but you’ll get no complaint over that from me. Altogether, this was a very fine sandwich.

Chorizo Torta – Bakery Mexico No. 2, E Santa Clara St, San Jose, CA

The Chorizo Torta from Bakery Mexico in San Jose, CA

What better way to kick off Greasy Sandwich Month here at On Sandwiches than with a seeded telera roll stuffed full of Chorizo? I got this sandwich to go, and upon unwrapping it the wrinkles in the tinfoil had each accumulated their own pool of grease. This might be enough to scare off some people, but not yours truly. No, fat provides both a pleasing taste and texture, and I welcome it. So let us celebrate the greasy, sloppy sandwich, starting with this very one. Accompanied by tomato and a healthy-but-not-obtrusive amount of cheese, the savory Mexican sausage soaked into the bread and made for a delightfully juicy, wonderfully savory sandwich. Not every sandwich should put you down for a nap, but every so often it’s just what you’re looking for. Without jalapenos or any other bold ingredients, this one stood on the strength of its grease and I am happy to say it was a success.

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

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.

The Piaf – Klein’s Deli, San Francisco Airport, San Francisco, CA

"The Piaf" sandwich from Klein's Deli.  Features roast beef, cream cheese, horseradish, dill pickle, and tomatoes on light rye. One’s options for food in airports might charitably be called “woeful.” Fast food, overpriced, overcooked hamburgers in pseudo-sportsbars, it just isn’t a friendly scene for your average sandwich enthusiast. I was surprised, then, to happen upon Klein’s Deli. Formerly a standby in the Portero Hill section of San Francisco, Klein’s has apparently taken up residence in two locations inside San Francisco airport. With their roster of sandwiches named after notable women of the 20th century, I thought I might finally happen upon a good airport sandwich. I ordered the Piaf, the legendary singer transmogrified into roast beef, cream cheese, horseradish, dill pickle and tomatoes on light rye. There will come a day when I bring you a report of an amazing airport sandwich. That is not today. The Piaf is a decent sandwich. It’s a fine concept; roast beef, cream cheese and horseradish would nicely compliment each other if deployed in the right proportion. That’s the issue, though, isn’t it? Cream cheese isn’t bold in flavor but it is perfectly capable of drowning out other notes, and there simply wasn’t enough horseradish here to stand up to it. The few thin slices of pickles also weren’t up to the task at hand. This could have been a really great sandwich, in a perfect world you’d see tender, in-house roasted beef, and enough horseradish to let you know it was there. But this isn’t a perfect world, and the sandwich I got, while tasty enough, just wasn’t that great.

Turkey & Avocado – Zino’s Deli, Bascom Ave, San Jose, CA

Last week, when discussing the California Fresh from Le Boulanger, I called the paltry amount of avocado a “serious flaw.” If that was a serious flaw, I don’t know what to call what I got from Zino’s. Judging by the sign in the parking lot, this was previously a Quizno’s. When I saw this, I thought to myself, “Well that’s interesting. An establishment that’s broken away from the larger chain.” After eating there, I have come to realize it is less likely that they broke away and more that they were jettisoned. I ordered my sandwich, and as is customary at this type of eatery, moved down the counter to the toppings. It was there that I stood and watched something unfold that was nothing less than horrifying. The man standing in front of me picked up a plastic bag filled with some manner of green substance, halfway between a cream and a paste, and he squeezed the bag so as to collect this substance near the corner of the bag that had been snipped off. Surely this was not the avocado? The menu board had pictures of avocados on it! My attention shifted as I saw my sandwich come out of the conveyor toaster. There was a layer of cheese on it, with that sheen that sandwich shop toasted cheese always has. I can’t say the cheese was a surprise, the sandwich industry as a whole is very fond of cheese, but on top of the cheese were black olives. Olives, like a great many food items, have their place on a sandwich. But no one had asked me if I wanted olives. Further, I was standing in front of the toppings. Where had the olives come from? Why would they be stored separate from the other items? Things were going bad with some speed, and soon enough my greatest fears were confirmed. The man at the topping station took my sandwich, squeezed his bag, and laid a zig-zag stripe of green mystery down. He looked up at me and asked me what else I wanted. Shell-shocked, I believe I muttered something along the lines of “red onions, I guess…bell peppers…lettuce and tomato, sure.”

As my sandwich was being wrapped up, I considered walking out. Everything I know about sandwiches was telling me that I was in for it. I am a sandwich enthusiast, I am not a professional and I do not share the obligations of a professional. Still, the sandwich was now prepared and ready to be eaten, and how could I come before you and condemn it if I was unwilling to eat it?

This was a lousy sandwich. There was entirely much mayonnaise on both sides of the bread, and again, I was not consulted on that. If I were I might have suggested a substitution of mustard, but apparently Zino’s knows better. The so-called avocado was dreadfully bland, the cheese was unnecessary, the bread hardly even worth considering. I can usually find at least some element of any sandwich that I enjoy, but there was nothing here. This was just a lousy sandwich.

California Fresh – Le Boulanger, Lincoln Ave, San Jose, CA

The "California Fresh" Sandwich at Le Boulanger Bakery, San Jose, CA

The California Fresh fro Le Boulanger is another fairly straightforward sandwich. Turkey breast, lettuce & tomato, red onion, avocado, mayonnaise and Dijon mustard come together on a dutch crunch roll. Sadly, the sandwich came up short on that last mark, containing what I would estimate to be not even half of an avocado. The avocado is a standard part of nearly every sandwich named for the Golden State, to skimp on it seems to me to misunderstand the basic premise of the sandwich. There was an abundance of mayonnaise, however, perhaps making the absurd suggestion that all forms of ‘creaminess’ are equal. A sandwich this generic couldn’t overcome this flaw, I thought, and as I ate I began mentally writing a negative review. As I continued, though, I was forced to reconsider my first impression. The dutch crunch roll, baked locally but not in-store, was outstanding. It had a hearty crust, the customary slightly sweet flavor, and had enough body to declare itself but not so much that it becomes a bread sandwich. The lack of avocado is a serious issue, and the rest of the sandwich is nothing special, but carried solely on the strength of a fine, fine roll, I would have to say this was a very good sandwich.

Friday’s Special – The Sandwich Place, Mission St, San Francisco, CA

Friday's Special at The Sandwich Place, San Francisco, CA

The Friday’s Special from the sandwich place is a fairly straightforward sandwich. Beer battered fillet of sole, homemade tartar sauce, red onions and mixed greens drizzled with balsamic and olive oil. Where the sandwich really excelled was in the execution; The fillet was fresh-fried, meaning it still had some crisp to it. On far too many sandwiches the breading & frying is done so far ahead of time that by the time you eat it things are downright soggy. The sandwich could have used a few more onions and a bit more balsamic, a little bit more zing would have filled things out nicely. I must say it was nice to see a sandwich special that didn’t feature cheese. I go back and forth in my thoughts on cheese, and a lot of times it feels as if the cheese is compulsory. Not so at The Sandwich Place, it seems. Cheese wasn’t going to help this sandwich as so they left it out. Good show! On the whole, this was a fine sandwich.