The Lunch Encounter

The Sandwich Project caught my eye with its archive of 2927 sandwiches. Thank you for the link, Mom. I figured the project must be British because favorite is spelled favourite. As my editing eye scrolled down and lit on “Mistry special” under recipes, I wondered if that could be a misspelling or perhaps a culinary term unknown to me. Neither, as it turns out, thanks to a little Google sleuthing. A certain Mr. Mistry is an Indian construction tycoon, another Mr. Mistry is one of South Asia’s foremost authors. Aha. Thinkin’ maybe the Mistry Special includes curry or chutney or paneer or naan.

Number 2925 was originated by Hitash Mistry and it reads like it must rock.

Here’s how you do it, in Mr. Mistry words:
Spread naan bread with mango chutney, layer curry over chutney, sprinkle onions and crushed papadoms over top with plenty of cheese Grill until cheese melted.

Not especially detailed, so that leaves me room to jump in with my two cents. Were I to make this sandwich the words “layer” and “curry” would not be my guiding force. Sprinkle maybe. And while sprinkling, I would use sliced scallions or maybe minced white onion. The cheese? I have no idea. Any suggestions? Would paneer work? Does it melt nicely? On to crushed papadoms. What a great idea. Might taste good sprinkled on curried chicken salad too. Too bad I don’t have a live forum or I would try it. It might make a tasty lunch special at the Encounter. Little spinach salad on the side.

A hot turkey sandwich is accepted as a sandwich, although it is not technically correct. Is it not closer to Welsh Rarebit than to a sandwich? I suspect the turkey sandwich originated in closed construction and evolved into its current form, white bread (untoasted) topped with sliced turkey and slops of gravy.

Thomas Head has some interesting thoughts on the origin of the term “open faced”.

OPEN FACED
I couldn’t find a specific entry in the OED, but I think it’s likely formed from open meaning “uncovered”. “Open headed” or “open haired” mean with head uncovered. I don’t think it’s likely that it comes from open meaning honest or generous, as in open handed. On the other hand, it could come from cards–an open faced card has its face up.

Which reminds me of my favorite riddle.
Q: How are the Prince of Wales, a father gorilla and a bald head different?
A: The first one is an heir apparent, the second a hairy parent, and the third has no hair apparent.

Pickle-O!
Pickle-Oh!
Piccolo!

Sam Winikow, an innovative LA 10-year old, invented a truly distinctive sandwich about a year ago, when he was only 9. Sam’s creation, which sprang from his head full cloth, embodies such a simple concept – a pickle chip embedded in an Oreo cookie – with a very sophisticated flavor profile. The pickle-o covers all the taste bases – sweet, sour, bitter, salty and the elusive fifth taste, savory.

“I’m not sure that my son is truly a lunatic for inventing the Pickle-O (pronounced piccolo)”, exclaimed Jeff Winikow. “I haven’t actually tried one, but he swears by them”.

Sam did not specify bread and butter or dill. The Lunch Encounter will pursue this essential detail doggedly.

Evan Sung for the New York TimesFrank Bruni writes lovingly of Katz’s Delicatessen and I think longingly of hand-trimmed pastrami on rye.A scrap to whet your appetite:To revel in its pastrami sandwich, one of the best in the land, with an eye-popping stack of brined beef that’s juicy, smoky, rapturous. To glory in the intricate ritual of the place: the taking of a ticket at the door; the lining-up in front of one of the servers who carves that beef by hand; the tasting of the thick, ridged slices the server gives us as the sandwich is being built; the nodding when we’re asked if we want pickles, because of course we want pickles.To read and see more about Katz’s click here.

Thomas Head, well-respected Washington, DC foodwriter, is at the Lunch Encounter, over there in booth three, eating a sandwich and reading Nigel Slater, one of his favorite food writers. Mr. Slater’s latest book is called The Kitchen Diaries, the record of a year in the kitchen and he often talks about sandwiches. For a taste, read on. Marbled coppa. Mmmm.

A deli sandwich
If the bread is perfect, by which I mean it has a crust that crackles and shatters when you split, if the ham is thinly sliced from the bone and the mustard is fresh and hot, then I am not sure you can improve on a baguette au jambon. But sometimes you need just that little bit more. It is then that the bottled artichokes come out. If you slice them and toss them in olive oil and chopped parsley, they work superbly with the ham. Or, of course, you can add some thinly sliced cheese, a mild nutty Gruyere perhaps. Whatever, it must have mustard too. The really hot stuff that packs a punch.
Too often, all my corner shop has left is soft, open-textured ciabatta. At one time it was the small brown loaves and pita bread that were left hanging around at the end of the day. Now it’s ciabatta. The soft, flour-topped bread makes a good enough ham sandwiches if the ham is paper-thin and Italian, otherwise it just doesn’t feel right. Adding mustard becomes precarious here, the large holes in the bread holding enough to make your eyes water.
What I end up with today more than makes up for the lack of a baguette. I slice the short, slipper-sized ciabatta in half lengthways, then drizzle it with my best olive oil. I cover one half with thinnish slices of fat-marbled coppa, some leaves of arugula, eight pitted black olives and a shower of neat little curls of Parmesan taken off the block with a vegetable peeler. For once I throw in some oil-bottled sun-dried tomatoes. Another drizzle of oil, then I press down the top and squeeze. You have to squeeze hard so that the oil soaks into the bread a bit. A bottle of cold San Pellegrino and an exceptionally sparkling Nasturo beer, and that is supper.
Excerpted from The Kitchen Diaries by Nigel Slater

It’s a modern burger! And for grown-ups! Condiment ingredients include chipotle peppers, green peppercorns, red onions and dill. Check out the pictures and story here. I did the styling, so was up close and personal with this stuff. I recommend all of it.

Jillian Clarke was recognized recently by the Annals of Improbable Research for her groundbreaking experiments debunking the Five-Second Rule. According to Ms. Clarke’s research, a piece of food dropped and then left to lie on the floor (or other probably dirty surface) for 5 seconds can collect a heck of a lot of bacteria, say perhaps a number between 150 and 8000. That’s enough to make you real sick. The experiments were conducted with slices of bologna
and with slices of bread.

Okay, this did make me think because I am likely to eat something that I have dropped, provided I dropped it on my own kitchen floor and not the floor of the bus station or ball park. When making that split second decision, to eat or not to eat, several judgements come into play. Ms. Clarke discusses two of the three factors I consider critical: the relative filth of the surface and the contact duration.

That said, what about the stickiness factor, as in, how sticky is the food? If you drop a wet lollipop you throw it away, right? There is no blowing off the dog fur, sand and crumbs, let alone the salmonella. On the other hand, something nice and dry, a chip or cracker for example, seems perfectly palatable after a good bloosh of air on both sides, no?

What I’m getting at is this, if I drop my bologna I hope it’s between two slices of nice bread and stuck tightly with mayo or mustard. Then I plan to pick it up, blow it off and eat it. That is unless I dropped it in the ladies lounge.

Harold McGee, famous food scientist, writes in detail about bologna, bread and bacteria in a story entitled The Five-Second Rule Explored, Or How Dirty Is That Bologna published May 9, 2007 in the New York Times. Read Mr. McGee’s full story here.

This is an Atkins approved sandwich. Personally, I need the bread…buttered.

Clamp at the bottom. Nice touch. That’s how it’s done. Fork’s not straight either. Course that was all fixed in post production. Those photoshop guys can do anything. What do they need me for??
Photography by Michael Pohuski
Foodstyling by Lisa Cherkasky

Caribbean Grill Cuban sandwich

I’ve been craving Cuban sandwiches since I saw Alton Brown deconstruct one on the Food Network. The Caribbean Grill offers one as well as several interesting side dishes, like baked plantains and black bean soup with chorizo. I was able to satisfy my craving. The sandwich was delicious. I was disappointed, though, that they didn’t have the black bean soup or the baked plantains. I opted for the fried. I need to go back. Now I have acraving for black bean soup. I like the Caribbean Grill. It’s nice lunch option in Arlington. Nicer if all menu selections are available.

Banjo Playin Ken

says Melissa Clark in a recent NYTimes story exulting the grilled cheese. Who knows better how to mother you than yourself? Who knows better what you need and when? A coupla bucks? A kind word? A butter-crisped, cheese-oozing, lip-greasing grilled cheese? Yes! Yes! Yes!

Photo by Taran Z Foodstyling by Lisa Cherkasky

I ate a lot of grilled cheese at Spudnut’s in Madison, WI while I was a so-called student. Plain. Just bread, white and thin, flattened from the butter- soak and flat-top toasting, and cheese, orange and velvety. A thin, faintly reddish, winter Wisconsin tomato slice was good sometimes.

Now my son eats a lot of them and we use a designated grilled cheese maker that imprints an American flag on the bread. What’s the connection? I have no idea. Got it free from work. And it works. The sandwich goes inside this flat grilly thing that has a hinged lid and you can flip it, flip it often if you like, and vigilantly monitor the browning of the bread. Almost as much fun as toasting a marshmallow perfectly.

Photo by Taran Z Foodstyling by Lisa Cherkasky

Why do kids like grilled cheese so much? Who knows. I do know my kid would never eat the one above. Too much going on.

Melissa Clark likes a sophisticated grilled cheese and I do too. Stinky cheese, bread with big holes that you have to actually chew, condiments that have made their way to the far reaches of your fridge. Looking to expand your grilled cheese horizons? Look here and she can help you make sandwiches for grown-ups, sandwiches that need these words to describe them: brittle, lacy, smear, tangy, tantalizing, pungent and bracing.

Photo by Taran Z Foodstyling by Lisa Cherkasky
This is very fancy. Something you might make for your mother to show her you are an actual adult. Something for brunch, that non-meal.

And then, when you need a bit of mothering…regular white bread – okay, it can be decent, cheddar – okay, it can be white and sharp, and butter, lots of it. Use a mess ‘o paper napkins and eat it in the kitchen.

Happy Mother’s Day!