Chili Burger

So, this sandwich is a legitimate gutbomb.  I’m not going to mince words here, folks.  I’ll give it to you straight.  This sandwich is going to make you feel like you want to die…but in a good way!

We decided (wisely, I think) to outsource this sandwich to the professionals at George’s – a neighborhood dive in the truest sense of the word.  Although we are dedicated to the craft of making the world’s finest sandwiches, the necessary work to make this sucker at home is daunting, and likely a bit expensive.

A chili burger is an actual hamburger patty smothered in chili con carne.  It delivers beef directly into your gaping maw via two mechanisms (burger and chili, if you aren’t paying attention).  This sandwich is an exercise in excess.  Now, burgers, on their own, or chili, on its own, are not overwhelming.  But the thought of making both burgers and chili met with a decidedly lazy ‘meh’ and to the dive bar merrily we went!

We sipped on our beers, listened to jukebox Top 40 hits (not necessarily this year’s hits but hits nonetheless), and took it all in.  Finally, we were served these monstrosities.  There had been some debate as to whether we should share one, but we decided that we must each have our own…for science.  I hate so much to admit this, but that decision may have been a mistake.  I hate even more to admit this…but look how much precious sandwich I left behind on that plate!

I am so ashamed.

If you are considering purchasing your own chili burger at George’s, here are some lessons learned.

1. This sandwich is the opposite of Ham Fraud ™, wherein the sandwich maker creates an illusion of more sandwich through deceit and trickery.  To the contrary! This sandwich wants you to have the most of everything! You’ll note first that it is open faced, but then the top bun is cut in half and placed at either end of the burger patty, thus creating the greatest possible surface area for the chili.  This sandwich wants you to get your $7.25 worth.
2. This sandwich is only $7.25 and could easily supply you with three meals.
3. You do not need the large tater tots, you jackass.
4. You also do not need the potato salad. Mainly because it is not very good.
5. You will have the option of cheese and onions on top and I strongly urge you, in no uncertain terms, to exercise that option.

Do You Immediately Want Another Of This Sandwich?

Guhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

*farts*

That would have to be a no for me this time, friends. I have to admit I enjoyed this less than I thought I would, seeing how much I love both burgers and chili.  The first several bites were satisfying, but in very short order it just became too much.  But, do I think there is something inherently worthwhile about going to a dive bar and ordering a Legitimate Gutbomb ™ just for the hell of it?  Yes, emphatically I do.  So take that for what it’s worth and eat accordingly.  Just don’t say we didn’t warn you.

 

Chicken Salad / Chickpea Salad Sandwich

GOOD EVENING little birds! We’re making chicken salad and its vegan counterpart, chickpea salad sandwiches. The Vicomtesse knew that the “recipe” for a chicken salad sandwich would be trivial, so I glanced at a few and put something together on my own with a heavy dose of flat-leaf parsely & yellow onion.

The star of the show was obviously the chicken. I wasn’t quite sure what chicken to buy, and I’m so so so pleased I ended up choosing boneless skinless chicken thighs from New Seasons. Y’all, I don’t know what love they massage the chickens with when they’re peckin’ around the henyard, but their chicken is so friggin’ delicious that I’m pretty sure they must. I didn’t want to deal with the cooking time of bones nor the discarded fat, but I knew I wanted the flavor of awesome chicken thighs instead of the stupid, overinflated, medically-specious chicken breasts.

At Luc Lac, the Vietnamese restaurant and lunch bar that gets great press around here, they serve a chicken salad that they shred instead of chop, and I thought the texture was terrific, so I did that here too:

Isn’t that gorgeous?  So, three spatchcocked, boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cooked at 375F for 40m, scored, salted & peppered in a glass dish with just a little bit of oil.  Then I shredded it, and added about half a cup of shredded parsely & about the same of preeeetty finely chopped yellow onion, and a little less than a tablespoon of Best Foods mayo (the only mayonnaise, by the way.  the only mayonnaise.  the only mayonnaise.).

I waffled a bit then on a few things, first, mayo on the sandwich even though it’s in the mix?  Ended up going with a thin layer on either slice which ended up being the right decision.  The other was whether or not to add salad greens & we ended up nixing ’em.  LOOK HOW PRETTY:

 

OH HELLO THERE, THE VICOMTESSE LEFT HER KEYBOARD ON CAPS LOCK AND NOW I AM GOING TO TALK ABOUT CHICKPEA SALAD.  Sorry but I cannot resist a good capslocktunity.  Shut up, it is too a thing!

For this very tasty chickpea salad, I used [Smitten Kitchen’s recipe](http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2009/01/smashed-chickpea-salad/)!  We love Smitten Kitchen around these parts.  Buy her book, it is great! In essence the recipe calls for a can of ‘bonzos, some thinly sliced black olives (we used Kalamata, the workhorse of the black olive world), some red onion diced finely, lemon zest and lemon juice, and parsley.  Smush it a little bit and add a couple of “glugs” of olive oil.

I followed the SK recipe to the letter EXCEPT that I doubled the amount of olives and quadrupled (!!!! [one for each uple!]) the amount of onion.  (The original recipe calls for 1 tablespoon of onion which is just madness.)

We added some tasty roasted red peppers and a schmear of hummus to trusty Dave’s Killer Bread, and that’s about that!

This sandwich was a VERY GOOD everyday sandwich.

I spent roughly $16 for all ingredients including the loaf of bread and red peppers, and we made three sandwiches and there is an ample amount left over for more sandwiches.  You easily could get a bunch of weekday lunches out of this.  (And, I know we are a sandwich blog, so shhh…don’t tell anyone I’m telling you this, but…you could also put this on a….salad, like one made out of lettuce.)

WHAT? NO, I WASN’T TALKING ABOUT SALAD.

Anywho, delicious, nutritious, economical – I’m a fan.

Do you immediately want another of th(is/ese) sandwich(es)?

We each had two servings :}

Cheesesteak, Philly

HEY HEY! Today, wholly in the warm clasp of the Cs, we come to the Cheesesteak comma Philly.

The noble Philly Cheesesteak is the introductory sandwich of many lifetime sandwich enthusiasts. Dating back eighty-odd years, the marriage of thin-sliced beef, grilled onions and mushrooms, mayonnaise, sometimes peppers (hot or sweet are both acceptable), AND A (“)CHEESE(“) is both beautiful and impressive. The battle rages on between those who insist on “traditional” provolone, and those who demand recognition for a “steak with ‘whiz,” as in, a cheesesteak with Cheez Whiz, which, honestly, sounds terrible, but I’m willing to try most anything, and how bad could extra-salty cheese-flavored cheese-food product be on a steak sandwich? The bread is evidently Amoroso or Vilotti-Pisanelli, the latter of which sounds like an extremely profitable merger or the overwrought stylings of a couple who couldn’t choose between either complicated last name for their child. Thin and long and soft, I knew no standard hoagie roll nor baguette would suffice, here.

Having not grown up anywhere near Philadelphia nor the east coast of the continental United States, I’ve never had a proper Philly, thus felt utterly unqualified to prepare my own Vicomtesse’s Special Philadelphia-Brand Cheesing Steak. We were off, then, to a purportedly fine (Her Eminence has been singing its praises for years) purveyor of the sandwich here in town, Shut Up and Eat to outsource it, as with the Barbecue and Banh Mi sandwiches.

Preparation
We didn’t make ’em! We just paid for them (called Broad Street Bombers at SUAE) and took our beers and a seat, eyeing each others’ meaty upper arms a bit dangerously. I am sad to report they had no Cheez Whiz, but apparently they get asked that semi-regularly! Finally, they arrived. They certainly looked perfect:

Impressions
The beef, the onions, the peppers, even the mayo and provolone were perfect. The beef tore apart perfectly, the cheap cut made perfect, the slight amount of gristle adding texture and interest rather than chewy uselessness. The draped, melted cheese bound the onions to the peppers to the beef, and the bite was good, and chewy, but the bread was WRONG. Here in Portland we just keep dressing up sandwiches that are already perfect. Look, the elk burger with baby shallots and baby salmonella sprouts and baby avocadian spears is really good, but so is just a damn ordinary burger. The bread on the Bomber was a fine some-kind-of-sourdough with a hearty crumb, great flavor, and a long chew – really good bread! But we’re not looking for really good bread – you want a cheap, white, long roll, softened with preservatives and dough conditioners, perfected with salt and probably sugar, maybe even an artificial fat of some kind, margarine or whatever.

Do you immediately want another of this sandwich?
Her Eminence and Her Eminence’s Boyfriend appeared to greatly enjoy theirs, though H.E.B. got a chicken Bomber instead, reporting it delicious and quickly eliminated. Her Eminence disagreed a skosh with me on the wrongness of the bread, which I understand – it was pretty good bread, after all, and a great sandwich on its own merits.

The Vicomtesse: Look, guys. The sandwich was great! Really, it was fabulous. But she just weren’t no Philly – the bread is VERY IMPORTANT – and I’ll have to wait til I visit a friend who moved there recently to eat a real one.

that said there aren’t a lot of sandwiches out there that I don’t immediately want another of – it was good, and yes, my friends, my heart, always

Cheese

YES. YES! YES? YES. It is grilled cheese day, my friends.  Who among us does not love grilled cheese? Those melty, melty, magical, magic melts… Think about the first time you ever had one. I bet YOU CAN’T, because if you are like me, you grew up eating grilled cheeses for lunch and dinner when your loving parent either 1) did not have the time to make you a proper meal with actual vegetables, or 2) badly wanted an excuse to eat their own grilled cheese.

(Although, I did once teach a group of English students about grilled cheeses when I was studying abroad during college and ate a grilled cheese and ham sandwich every. single. night. (because metabolism).  They loved them but insisted upon calling them “cheese grills” no matter how persistently they were corrected. An English cheese sandwich, for the record, is bread, butter, cheese, and pickles and they are also delicious.)

Join us as we prepare the ultimate comfort-sandwich.

Preparation:

We have heard from some new readers that it would be helpful to post recipes.  Although this is excellent feedback and we will start doing so, it is interesting indeed that we will start this with the grilled cheese: a sandwich that most people know how to make straight out of the womb.  But I will share with you my proven grilled cheese method.

Proven Grilled Cheese Method:

Makes 2 Sandwiches – for you and a friend, or just for you if you’re extra hungry

Four slices good quality bread – we used Como bread from Grand Central Bakery

4-5 ounces cheddar cheese, grated

Whipped butter

Optional (but not really…)

Tomato soup

Use high quality bread and high quality cheese.  Grate the cheese for extra meltability.

Butter the outer sides of the bread liberally.

Assemble the sandwiches by placing roughly half the cheese on each (approximately an handful’s worth [ed. note: 2oz should suffice]).

Heat a skillet on high, cast iron works superbly, and put a sandwich butter-side down on the heated skillet.

Hover over it with drool streaming down your face.

After you think the bread has toasted to your liking, flip the sandwich and press down on it with the spatula.  This probably accomplishes nothing but it makes it seem like it’s cooking faster.

Put on a plate and serve with tomato soup (or ketchup, or both).

*

Impressions

Perfect. Duh.

Do you immediately want another of this sandwich?

Yes, for taste reasons. But it is important to note that with the soup this is a complete meal. There are so many variations as well.  Any kind of cheese, any kind of bread.  Add a slice of ham or a slice of tomato.  One of my personal favorites is a grilled cheese and avocado! The limitless possibilities, economy, and of course, the deliciousness of the cheese sandwich make it an undeniable classic.

Chacarero

HOORAY, SECOND SANDWICH OF THE CS! We’re actually doing this, friends. Riding home from work today (for the Vicomtesse is gainfully employed, yes!), I couldn’t help but think what a fabulous service we are doing unto the world. YOU ARE WELCOME, all two of you! *cough* pardon me sorry excuse me sorry

These beautiful Chilean sandwiches took us both by surprise, contained as they were of skirt steak, avocado, tomato, and green beans (?!). What’s beautiful about this club is that we put many things on many breads, MANY things, that we never would have considered to be husbandsandwich material. So let’s get back to the ingredients. Her Eminence picked them up, and thank goodness we went to New Seasons (sidenote: as it’s probably fairly evident that we are based in Portland, Oregon, I shall further refrain from obfuscation of ingredienteries, unless it is a place we have found distasteful/unseasonably expensive). They have the very very very finest meat of any grocery I’ve ever been to, and the skirt steak that Her Eminence picked up there was not only – like $10 for more than a pound, which for very good beef, is damned economical (if “buying steak” were on the list of things that are economical). I regret, my darlings, not getting a photo of the steak before we seared it – its grain was beautiful and its flesh RED, that harlot (note to self quit anthropomorphizing steak).

The green beans, jalapeño, and avocado were all of terrific quality, but alas, the December tomato is not what you might want. We cut it up and it was in such a sorry state that we made the Official Decree and it was stricken from the sandwich, as it would have palely and sandily detracted from the composition.

As we’ve done in many of our roll-based sandwiches, we hollowed out the bread and took a good fourth of it out. Please do not get us wrong, comrades, we are bread fanatics here at the CSSC, but it must be said! A giant chunk of white roll with no sandwich containment is a sad, sad state of affairs, so more often than not, we forego it.

The steak took no more than about two minutes on each side on high heat with the (lovely, trustworthy) cast-iron, while we charred the green beans in a bit of butter and salt and pepper, a method I picked up in a little place called FRANCE, EVER HEARD OF IT??

sorry

moving on

After we thin-sliced the jalapeño and cut up our perfect, perfect avocado, we took one look at the tomato & threw it out. Hollowing out the french rolls (not completely) made lovely little pockets for us to put the pieces of this interesting sandwich together, and then I put a good amount of the adobo sauce (left-over from the last sandwich – that tells you how recently we did this, AND HOW AMAZING WE ARE ahem sorry again) on it once assembled.

This was a really good sandwich. Speaking as The Vicomtesse of the Bacon Lettuce & Tomato, it didn’t blow me away. I loved the interesting crunch of the green beans and the richness of the (very rare [in France the word for rare translates to “bloody,” isn’t that beautiful]) steak, but I put a bit too much of the adobo on, and honestly, I think the sandwich deserved a bit of mayo over the red sauce! I know this is a pretty ugly American POV that I’m expressing here, but god I love mayonnaise, and a little goes a long way toward tying a sandwich together. Mayo is the salt of the sandwich world (or, um, maybe salt is the salt of the sandwich world) and I feel that it melds the spicy, the umami, the rich and the sour together in a way that brings out the flavors of each. But it WAS good, and Her Eminence liked it I think a good deal more than I did, and I would absolutely make it again with a few tweaks of my own – adobo, yes, but a bit less of it, and a little swipe of the Hellmann’s. For about $20, we had enough for three sandwiches, so again, somehow not cheaper than getting a sandwich out somewhere, but seriously quite good for a terrific steak sandwich, the ingredients of which were purchased at a Fancy market.

SUCCESS FRIENDS

Cemita

Hola, sandwich lovers…we are back! And we have triumphantly entered the C-section (ew) of our most excellent mission.  Man, I thought we were going to be in the Bs forever.  Oh do we have some epic sandwiches coming up, we are SO excited.  But first, we would be remiss if we did not acknowledge a major misstep on the part of this here sandwich blog.  Yes, November 3 was National Sandwich Day and neither of us noticed or commemorated this illustrious holiday (though we probably ate a sandwich considering it was a day that ended in Y).  We promise we will never make such a careless error again.

Anyway, today’s sandwich is the Cemita:

The Cemita is a traditional sandwich from Puebla, Mexico and it takes its name from the kind of roll used.  We did not find traditional cemita rolls, but used torta rolls and topped them with sesame seeds to recreate it.  The sandwich assemblage is quite simple, just a meat, queso blanco, avocado, onion, and salsa roja.  

We picked up most of the ingredients at a local shop/taqueria, Don Pancho, and the proprietor was so kind as to run next door to the restaurant and give us a pound of delicious, tender carnitas.  The only real work we did was to heat up the carnitas and swish them around the pan with some fresh oregano, onion, and some of the salsa roja, and then toast the bread with the sesame seeds on top.

This sandwich was very, very good.  It was hearty without feeling overwhelming. The flavors were bright.  The cheese, though mild, added depth to the sandwich and counterbalanced the heat of the fiery salsa roja.  Speaking of salsa roja, these sandwiches improved exponentially once we decided to dump the stuff on.  Don Pancho makes the salsa roja fresh with only natural ingredients (ed. note: seriously – roasted adobo peppers, vinegar, salt, water, garlic, I think that’s it. fresh daily or close to it.) and it’s like $3 for a generously sized tub (pro-tip).

In all, this was very tasty, a complete meal, and very easy to put together, though we lightly toasted some sesame seeds & cooked up a bunch of fresh oregano in the carnitas, which added some really nice, bright texture to the density of the pork. Totally not necessary, and some cilantro would of course be a gorgeous addition.  Unlike some of our more laborious sandwiches, I can easily see myself making this again and again because it is so convenient for a work-night dinner.  And isn’t convenience really what the sandwich is ultimately all about?

Do you immediately want another of this sandwich?

Yep. Heartily regretting not making enough to bring for lunch the day after.

Butterbrot

For the noble butterbrot (buttered bread), um, well, wow. Wow… wow. We do love butter, yes, and bread, of course, and while we have had the combination of these two more times than I can even admit (I admit to >1000x), it’s something that makes us incredibly happy.

This time, we started with Grand Central Bakery’s sour rye, earthy but still tangy with a great crumb. Her Eminence of the Italian Deli Meat Sandwich (a proper lady deserves her proper full name) acquired some stupid-expensive butter from our local mostly-good, mostly-overpriced grocery franchise. This stuff was like $18/lb. YES. YES.

Butterbrot is sometimes just butter on bread, but no matter the topping, always begins with that most essential of sandwich preparation. We also had some dalmation fig spread and some BLACK CAVIAR LUMPFISH. that may be redundant, maybe it’s just “black caviar” or “lumpfish” but what a linguistic presentation with all three!

Listen, friends. I know it’s just butter. I KNOW THAT. This “lightly salted” (whatever that adjective imparts, regulation-wise) $986/lb butter was just, gah, perfect. It’s not something I can buy on a regular basis, it’s not something that you cook with, but when you do drop the six clams on a third of a pound of it, you taste it eternally.

The fig spread was great, yknow, it’s jam, it’s high quality, and it’s fine! Her Eminence also tried a brot with Zhir Gracious Majesty’s Finest Butter Product and some wildflower honey that I bought today at the apple orchard, and she reports excellence on that account.

While Her Eminence is well-versed in preserved salty fish product, the caviar was a first for The Vicomtesse of the Bacon Lettuce Tomato. I was really happy with it, I suppose that’s why it costs upwards of one-tenth of the cost of the Butter Absurd™. NEWSFLASH: CAVIAR IS REALLY GOOD. always glad to be the first to report on the necessities in life!!

until next time, sandwich slayerz™

Broodjie Kroket

Oh my, are you ready for your second meat slurry sandwich in as many weeks?!???!!! OHHHH YEAAAAHHHHHHHHHH.  

The Broodjie Kroket is a Dutch sandwich, traditionally served as street food.  And I will tell you, this is a sandwich that should be eaten (and made) while drunk.  Because you have to overcome all of your instincts NOT to eat this sandwich, but, oh friends, it will be worth it.  

I am just kidding about making this sandwich drunk because it had approximately ONE BILLION steps, the most critical of which involves a deep fryer.  Ok, let’s get into it:

First, purchase your ingredients. Some nice soft rolls, roast beef, spicy mustard, mushrooms and onions, soy sauce, thyme, and stuff to make bechamel.  I followed this recipe. I will tell you now (SPOILERS) that our krokets looked absolutely nothing like the picture in this recipe and this woman must be some kind of wizard.  

Second, blend all of your ingredients in a food processor, save the rolls and mustard.  This includes the bechamel that you have lovingly stirred on the stove.  Note: in retrospect, I think I used too much bechamel sauce.  The recipe is in UK standard measurements and I would just urge you to be judicious in your bechamel use.  This will create a meat slurry.  Pop that bad boy in the fridge for several hours.

You would think that the fridge chilling would solidify your meat slurry, but in our case, it sure did not! Friends, I am going to be crude here for a second: these meat slurry “logs” that you form straight up look like doo-doo.  

Take your meat slurry logs, which are not easy to pick up and will definitely make you gag, dip them in flour (flour covered turd logs), then in egg, which in our case was, uh, unnecessary, then in bread crumbs. 

Then, deep fry for 5 minutes.  I believe it is also possible to fry on a stovetop if you are not like me and have not purchased a countertop deep fryer on Craigslist.  A deep fryer hides a multitude of sins.  Those sins are virtually unrecognizable when put in a nice soft roll and slathered with mustard.  They were actually pretty dang tasty.  

A couple of tweaks: the Vicomtesse had the brilliant idea to carve out some of the bread, a trick we learned from our Bauru days.  It helped.  The Vicomtesse also added some pickles to her sandwich number 2 (haha, get it?!), which she contends brought to sandwich to epic levels of deliciousness.  

So, final question: Do you immediately want another of this sandwich?

Vicomtesse: I did want another, so I made another one, con pickles. The pickles changed it from a pretty good sandwich, to an incredible one.  Though not strictly traditional, I stand behind my decision. 

Her Eminence: While the sandwich exceeded my admittedly very low expectations, I was so traumatized by the process of making them, that I did not immediately want another one.  I feel, however, with the lessons learned from this first go-round, that I would perhaps try to make it again.  Even if only to conquer the turd beasts and show them who is truly the master.  

Bun Kebab

SO. This week’s scheduled sandwich was to be the Brodje Kroket, but being short of time and long of hunger, we opted for the mighty Bun Kebab instead. A traditional Pakistani street food item, this is something that both Her Eminence and myself have never made before, SO WE WENT ALL OUT (I know, I know, we wanted to save time, so instead we SPENT ALL OF THE TIME). I made the ghee two days ago with a number of delightful videos and tutorials, found here and here! (this’s fantastic and charming) and many other places besides.

Her Eminence found a fabulous recipe at some Aussie website which differed a bit from the vision of the Vicomtesse re: the chutney. Because the called-for tamarind chutney was approximately $7,600,492.89 at our local too-posh grocery, we made our own with apples, garlic, onions, turmeric, cumin, cinnamon, cloves, salt, & chili pepper. Oh, and of course, the ghee that we made – the ghee went in EVERYTHING, because it tastes like the imagination’s ideal version of Butter that your grandmother brags about eating every morning as a kid.

For the lentils, we DID scrimp a bit on that for time’s sake, and bought the blandest can of low-sodium lentil soup we could, and strained all the water and other mushy veggies off. What little herbs were added to the canned soup delight were of no import, Her Eminence and myself ruled. After skimming those off, we threw some glassy onions cooked in ghee, fresh ginger, jalapeno, cumin, cinnamon, and salt into the food processor along with the cheater lentils. chentils? After mixing those up, then the pound of ground lamb & an egg went in, and it was all ground to a fine, gross looking grayish paste. Sorry friends! It all already smelled amazing, though, so we knew we were onto something.

Per the instructions, we let the hand-formed, mushy, fluffy patties (that all still sounds really gross) cool & gel in the fridge for a while, and after sitting and catching up for a bit, we fried up some shredded ginger (also in the ghee, because DUH) and set that aside with all the other sandwich toppers.

OK. PHEW. THIS WAS ACTUALLY A LOT OF WORK. After an hour of stone chillin’, we took the patties out of the fridge and fried them up. This part, you guys, this part smelled really, really, really good. Ahhhhh. After AT LEAST eight months (perhaps upwards of ten minutes) of waiting and frying, we assembled the bun:

d

Oh my god.

Impressions

These were both light and intense, delicate and heavy-hitting. The fried ginger added a dimensionality to it that neither of us was expecting, and the fresh cucumber, tomato & superthin jalapeno slices were complex and so, so good. The homemade chutney added depth and sweetness, and the fried egg (!) on top, which Her Eminence and I both thought was superfluous, ended up contributing a lot of richness to what was by itself a rather delicate affair. This was up there with the Bauru. It’s hard to use much hyperbole here because it was just a solid, delicious, incredible sandwich.

Do you immediately want another of this sandwich?

YES. yes. yes. Planning on eating just one (basically a burger), we instead each ate two. Good gravy, my friends, this was a perfect sandwich. Yes, lots of prep, but just totally incredible, so impressed with how good this was. it was so good! sorry guys!!

UNTIL NEXT TIME, SANDWICH DWEEBS

British Rail/Bruschetta

We have another two-fer today.  You’d think this would be to make up for all the neglect in the last few months (we thought we could finish the Bs by the end of last year and now it is May), however, today we do a strategic two-fer as one of these sandwiches is delicious and one of these sandwiches is terrible.  Try to guess which one is which!

We start today with the “British Rail,” which I put in quotes on purpose.  A British Rail sandwich is tied to a particular place and a particular era.  A British Rail sandwich is a crummy sandwich you could get on the nationalized railroad of Great Britain.  It is a national joke. I strongly encourage you to check out the Wikipedia page for the British Rail, as it is hilarious and informative, but I offer you now this brief yet telling snippet: “Historian Keith Lovegrove wrote that it was ‘a sandwich of contradictions; it could be cold and soggy, or stale and hard, and the corners of the isosceles triangle-shaped bread would often curl up like the pages of a well-thumbed paperback'” ISN’T THAT JUST DELIGHTFUL?!

Listen, I know we here are dedicated to the task of eating and rating the world’s most notable sandwiches.  And, of course, if allowed to decide between a “grass-fed slow braised beef with coddled onions and massaged greens and artisanal cheese on double-artisanal bread” and a 7-11 “sadness sandwich” as defined by our Vicomtesse, we all know we’re going for the fancier sandwich.  But there are so many times in life when the fancy sandwich, or even the “good” sandwich is not available to us.  But you know what? Whether by virtue of desperation, boredom, drunkeness, or other circumstance, those “bad” sandwiches become good. You know they do.  You know that 6 hours into your 12 hour Amtrak trip (that was supposed to be 8 hours), you love that crummy train sandwich, because that sandwich is the only thing breaking the monotony and melancholy of solo travel.  And you relish every bite of that cold, hardened bread, “turkey” lush with sodium, three packets of condiment that you glom on to the wizened lettuce and tasteless, but somehow still substantial, cheese.  And in that moment, that sandwich is your everything. That sandwich saves your life.

No? Just me? Well, okay then. So onto the sandwich.

Not being in Great Britain, and not being on a train, we were at a bit of a loss as to how to effectively recreate the sad travel sandwich experience.  My partner in this adventure was to handle the Bruschetta that we shall be discussing later, so it was my task to make a shitty sandwich.  I LITERALLY DO NOT KNOW HOW TO DO THIS.  I went to the non-fancy supermarket, just to look for some standard bread and cheese, but then, then I stumbled upon these:

Look at how that ham sweats.  Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Oh these will do quite nicely.

Friends, these sandwiches were terrible.  Just terrible.  This is not an example of when the situation transforms a bad sandwich into a good sandwich. The bread stuck persistently to the roof of your mouth and the lettuce was sad and old.  The ham was just salt and the cheese tasted like nothing. The vicomtesse couldn’t even finish hers. But I did. For Science.

The bruschetta was, of course, much better. The V and I are fortunate enough to live in an area of the US where we have access to abundant, delicious produce, and as we all know, a bruschetta is only as good as the tomatoes.

I will confess that I am not especially a fan of tomatoes (something about the texture and the seeds) but I do like bruschtta. The vicomtesse’s hubby specializes in bruschetta so we let him direct the process. He heated the chopped tomatoes, which has never been my method but was delicious. We spooned the cooled heated (what?) tomatoes over some nice crostini that we heated in the oven for a bit, after brushing with olive oil and garlic, and added some fresh mozzerella because fresh mozzerella never, ever makes anything worse.

In summary:

British Rail = bad, notoriously bad. Nobody wants more of this.

Bruschetta = good, very good. A tasty treat that is easy as pie to make.