Tag Sandwich

McReally

Michael 2 Comments

I really like sandwiches. I’ve done that bit before so I’ll not bore you twice with it. Maybe even three times. Anyway, I like sandwiches. Today I came close to a sandwich trifecta. I made an egg and sausage on English muffin for breakfast, for lunch I had grilled chicken with provolone and zucchini on a hoagie roll, and I came close to grilling a hamburger for dinner. Fortunately I came to my senses and grilled a pork chop instead and actually got to use a knife and fork for one meal.

But that hamburger got me thinking about the sandwich world. Every restaurant has sandwiches. Maybe not the Top of the Marque type places but I can’t afford them so they don’t count. Yes I said that. If you want them to count, put them in your blog. Anyway…every restaurant has sandwiches but it took one that nobody wants to admit patronizing to have made it an institution. New York delis notwithstanding. Of course that is McDonald’s. And I’m not getting any consideration from them for this.

The hamburger thought that popped into my head when that hamburger got me thinking was the Quarter Pounder. You know McDonald’s recently upgraded the Quarter Pounder. No? You didn’t? That’s right. Nobody actually goes to McDonald’s so of course you didn’t. That’s ok. I did. They recently upgraded the Quarter Pounder and a couple of weeks ago I had one. I’m not going to sit in my kitchen and ponder if I would rather fire up the grill and burger it on my own or make the trip down the road to cop dinner. But if I’m on the road and hungry, and an arch topped sign beckons, I could do another one of those.

McRibAh but there’s more to the story. The hamburger thought that popped into my head when that hamburger got me thinking wasn’t just about hamburgers. Because one of the hamburgers that thought popped was the venerable Quarter Pounder, that particular hamburger got me to think about a non-hamburger sandwich from that chain, the McRib. Or you prefer: the McRoo (inaccurate though since it contains no kangaroo meat although rumors do persist) or the McTripe (actually quite accurate since tripe is one of its 70+ ingredients) (sorry) or even the McOhNoI’dNever which is probably also inaccurate because they sell between 30 and 50 million whenever they are released and I only get one) (really).

It’s true. I am a McRibber. I don’t know why but every fall I start looking for the signs that the everything but the kitchen sink sandwich is coming back because I have to have my McPig Fix. Fortunately, unlike certain potatoes chops, I can stop at one. Fortunately because even I will admit they are weird and they also have over 400 calories and you don’t keep a boyish figure like mine (yeah, right) by chowing down on a bagful of those things.

Yes, I really like sandwiches. Even the marginal ones.

A Fish Tale

Michael 6 Comments

Yesterday I had a sandwich for lunch. You know, I started a post a couple of weeks ago almost just like that. Well, I like sandwiches. Hmm. I started a post a couple of years ago almost just like that. Now that I think about it, I’ve probably started a post about sandwiches every couple of months. Anyway, the one a couple of years was mostly about sandwiches in general and how generally universal they are. And universally general while we’re at it. The one from a couple of weeks ago was about a specific sandwich, the grilled cheese. I mentioned in that one that I hadn’t had many grilled cheese sandwiches growing up but I never said what I had growing up, sandwichly speaking. I thought of them yesterday while I was sandwiching.

To make a short story long, yesterday I had a sardine sandwich. Go ahead. Sardines often generate that kind of response. It’s ok, we’re used to it. I happen to like sardines. More often than not, I’ll have fresh sardines that I’ve roasted and served with a light pasta. But every now and then I’ll grab a tin of sardines in olive oil or mustard and plunk them on a hearty rye bread. Yum.

But how does one who didn’t grow up in Sardinia grow up to enjoy sardines. Thanks to Napoleon (you know, that Bonaparte fellow, yeah, that one), and my father. Napoleon got things going by having them canned for the first time. My father got me going on them by sharing his sandwiches with me. To clarify, the fish Napoleon had stuffed into glass jars were probably real sardines and more closely related to the fresh variety that I have for dinner. The sardines that my father ate were probably a variety of herring which seems to be the sardine standard (or standard bearer) in North America.

So yesterday, when I had that sardine sandwich, it got me thinking of those sandwiches that I had as a sandwich impressionable youth. Sardines weren’t the only sandwiches I had that weren’t grilled cheese. While others might have been developing their sandwich palettes on grilled cheese, peanut butter and jelly, and ham and cheese, I was growing up on sardines, roast chicken on whole wheat, and fried pepper sandwiches.

I see your confused faces. You understand chicken; you accept that some people eat sardines between slices of bread. But peppers? Aren’t peppers a condiment to add to something else. Not always. On Fridays, a meatless day in our household, my father would fry thick slices of large green and red bell peppers, yellow and green mild banana peppers, and yellow hot banana peppers in olive oil and slap these on any hearty bread (rye, wheat, Italian). Oh, that mix of heat and the bread oozing flavored oil. Italian yum!

I’m sorry but that’s going to have to be it for food posts for a while. Every time I write something like this I get hungry and go eat again. I’ve gain 4 pounds this month and we still have Halloween coming! Now I have to go to the store and get some banana peppers.

 

Sandwiched In

Michael 1 Comment

Sometime over the past several years you have seen a news story, read an on-line article, or seen a magazine article on fast food advertising. Two things are always stressed in these reports – that the advertisers must use the same ingredients that the restaurant uses to make the sandwiches in the ads, and the sandwiches in the ads never look like what you get squished into that bag that you exchanged a bunch of dollar bills for.

There are always lots of excuses. They use special angles and shoot with optimal lighting. Their toppings might be a bit fresher than what the restaurants are using. And my favorite excuse, they don’t cook the food. Apparently when you cook meat it shrinks and when you wrap lettuce in aluminum foil on top of a hot sandwich it wilts. Quel surpise! Here’s an idea. How about not putting the toppings on until the sandwich is ordered? By I’m just talking to the wind.

When advertisers photograph a shirt or a blouse they have to get one from the production line for the picture. The model can be as fresh or as manipulated as you please but the product has to be what you can reasonably expect to find in the store. Why would expect the same requirements for the food we eat? But as I said, I’m just talking to the wind. Or am I?

Take a look at this. This is a sandwich from a local restaurant that has earned its reputation from its sandwiches.

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This particular sandwich was bought, bagged, tossed in the car, sat there while I stopped for gas, finally arrived home, plopped on the table, unwrapped, and picked up to be heartily devoured. That’s when I stopped and snapped off a shot. It probably isn’t that great of a picture because I don’t belong to the “take a picture of your food before you eat it” generation and it still looks like a pretty good sandwich to me. The funny thing about this local chain. They don’t advertise.

Imagine that picture handled by the food stylists responsible for making your McBurger look appetizing. That might be better than porn.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Two all beef patties, special sauce, etc., etc.

Michael 1 Comment

I love sandwiches. I alluded to that in a post last year (Sandwiched Between Here and There, June 4, 2015) but never came right out and actually said so in public. Well public, I love sandwiches.

I suppose if it wasn’t for that card game back in 1760-something I would have to invent it myself. If you read this blog religiously over the past year you might think I had a hand in its invention in a former life. I say that because just over the past year I’ve referenced sandwiches in seven posts. Considering that I only post twice a week and that half of last year I was in the hospital and posted only 95 times in 2015, seven posts is a big chunk of my on-line presence for 2015. And the biggest contribution I made to society was my feeling about sandwiches. Not even any good recipes (meat, cheese, condiments, bread) (chips on the side), just…feelings, nothing more than feelings.

When you get down to the nitty and gritty of great sandwiching you see that the love of sandwiches is pretty universal. Or sure, the first thing you might think of is the classic portable meal the Fourth Earl of Sandwich is rumored to have called for (meat, bread) (no word about chips). But a sandwich is so much more than that – it’s a wrap, a taco, a burrito, a calzone, a Stromboli, a gyro, a falafel, a muffaletta, …. Oh I could go on and on (as if I haven’t already) that’s how strongly I feel about sandwiches. They are just plain, old-fashion, good eating.

So now that you know how I feel about fine dining, when you come to visit plan on a stop at the neighborhood bar and grill for a cold one and a hot one (frosty adult beverage and two-handed manwich at the bar) or a hot one and a cold one (soup and sandwich daily special at the grill).  We’ll get along just fine!

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Sandwiched Between Here and There

Michael 1 Comment

About 15 years ago I spent a few years living in Philadelphia. To this day, when friends and family plan a trip to the city proverbially of brotherly love I get calls about finding the best…well, not the best time to visit Independence Hall, not the best museum for kids, not the best place to see fireworks on the Fourth of July. Nope, people are always asking about the best cheese steaks in the city.

Maybe I just look like someone who eats a lot of sandwiches or maybe sandwiches are starting to define certain cities and even whole geographic areas.

Think about it. That cheese steak identifies so closely with Philadelphia that in other cities it’s often called a “Philly Cheese Steak.” Across the state in Pittsburgh take that same meat and cheese and top them with tomatoes, french fries, and cole slaw and you have the classic Pittsburgher sandwich. Pile a sandwich high with thinly sliced corned beef or pastrami, add a well pickled pickle on the side and you’re eating in a deli in New York City. If you’re lunching on a lobster roll you’re lunching in a New England coastal town. You’ve made your sandwich with sour dough bread and you’re on the other coast somewhere around San Francisco. And a Po’ Boy on your plate puts that plate and you in New Orleans.

Of course there are some sandwiches that are universal like peanut butter and jelly. Then there are others that people eat all across the country but nobody will claim them. Like peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. No pickle required.

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?

Mystery Foods of the U.S.

Michael Leave a comment

You probably heard.  The McRib is back. Since 1981 with a couple years off for good behavior, the mysterious McRib has been a cult hero of fast food sandwiches. The real mystery isn’t the meat, it’s the reason. Why do this and other foods intrigue us so?

In our home town as in everybody else’s home town that has a home town bar, we had a home town bar that actually had on the menu, The Mystery Sandwich. The great difference between our mystery sandwich and others are the UPPER CASE LETTERS. Where so many sandwich makers might put up “Daily Special,” “Chef’s Choice,” or “Joe’s Favorite,” our bar cut through the nonsense and called it what it is. So many leftovers of whatever happened to be at the bottom of the meat tray piled high with various cheeses, lettuce, and mayonnaise, on a toasted roll. Or bread. Or bun. Who knew what was in there. Who cared. It is a mystery. Or was. The famous Mystery Sandwich disappeared when the iconic bar went down and a drug store took its place. Intriguing.

Philadelphia calls itself the home of the cheesesteak. To anybody who ever had a true, original, bona fide, Philly cheesesteak there are mysteries galore. First, there’s the cheese. A true Philadelphian will argue the only true cheese for a true cheesesteak is Cheese Wiz. Melted. We no surer that Wiz is cheese than we are that McRib is rib. The other mystery is who runs those shops, the Soup Nazi? If you find yourself in South Philadelphia around the Italian Market you’ll find yourself around the two super steak shops each claiming to be the best, the original, the top dog if they were selling hot dogs. And at each you’d find a sign outside with instructions on how to order your sandwich. And if you break the rules? No steak for you! Very intriguing.

Coca-Cola, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper. All “invented” in drug stores by pharmacists. Really. We knew that. Actually, really not. Oh they all grew from drug stores and pharmacists were the recipes’ creators. But they weren’t coming up with refreshing summer afternoon soft drinks. These were die hard health drinks. Spring water was the root of all that was healthy. Mineral spring water an even deeper root. Bubbling mineral spring water was the cure all without the wink! And all available to you at the pull of a handle at a soda stand. How to get you into Danny’s Drug Store when Freddie’s Pharmacy was so much closer? Add flavor to the life saving water. And while we’re at it, add just a touch of tobacco, caffeine, or even cocaine. They were the original energy drinks. And a mystery that when the Harrison Act of 1914 prohibited the sale of opiates without a prescription is these drinks kept their energy. Most intriguing.

A century and then some ago, Americans mining iron in Cuba searched for a way to quench their thirst. They turned to what was plentiful. Sugar, limes, and rum. And the daiquiri was born. A teaspoon of sugar, the juice of one lime, and an ounce or two or rum, poured over ice equals instant refreshment. And not at all similar to the frozen fruit flavored concoctions one finds in American bars today. How did the one lead to the other. It might be Ernest Hemingway’s fault. Hemingway was a daiquiri connoisseur and his regular purveyor of the cocktail was the Floridita bar in Havana. There many variations of the drink were begun. One involved blending the original ingredients with ice then straining it through a sieve into a frosted glass. Some postulate that because it took so long to strain the icy concoction many yeilded to temptation to just pour the slushy mix into a glass and go at it before the ice melted and you were left with a warm, watered down lime-aid. Intriguingly intriguing.

So there are just a few of the food mysteries that we quite literally relish. In just a few weeks the McRib will be gone, but we’re ready to guess that by then you’ll have thought of an intriguing mystery sandwich, drink, or combination of your own!

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?