Why not the best (sandwich)?
When Governor Jimmy Carter decided to seek the Presidency, he wrote a book, "Why Not the Best?" in 1975 as a way of letting voters know who he was. The title comes from his interview by Admiral Rickover to decide if Carter would join the nuclear submarine community, following his graduation from the Naval Academy. "Did you do your best?" Rickover asked him. Carter eventually replied, "no sir, I didn't always do my best." The admiral asked, "Why not?"
Now, the leap from nuclear submarines to sandwiches may seem far (and, no, we’re not talking about submarine sandwiches here) but stay with me. Usually, when we’re hungry and need something quick to eat, we throw together a simple sandwich out of whatever is left over from last night’s meal. What I’m asking is, why not plan to create, not just something to eat, but a great sandwich? Why not the best?
But, that means the sandwich needs to justify the time spent planning ahead and the actual time expended to fashion it. As Rod Sterling might have said, “I submit for your approval these three sandwiches.”
But, first, why is it called a sandwich? The sandwich was born in England in 1762, named after John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich. Montagu was a notorious gambler who spent hours at the card table. The story goes, during a 24-hour long game, he directed the cook to bring him something he could eat without getting up from his seat, and the sandwich was born. His meal required no utensils and could be eaten with one hand, leaving the other free to continue the game. Montagu enjoyed meat layered between bread so much that he continued to order it, and as it became popular in London society circles, these new eatables were dubbed Sandwiches. Well, better than Montagues.
Montagu had traveled abroad to the Mediterranean and was introduced to Turkish and Greek mezze platters: dips, cheeses, and meats served between and on layers of bread. No doubt, Montagu appropriated these ideas when he sat at that card table.
Croque monsieur
I had read about Croque monsieur (literally "crunch sir") but never met one face-to-face until my first trip to Paris. My wife and I were wandering aimlessly across the Seine River from Notre-Dame (long before the devastating fire) when hunger struck and we found an outdoor café that offered this famous French version of the ham and cheese sandwich. Served with a small salad, it was the perfect match for a sunny day in the French capital.
But, when I returned home, the sandwich stayed in Paris. I was afraid to make it, knowing that without sitting on a sidewalk café in the Latin Quarter, it just would not taste the same. So, I didn’t touch it until I met it again in “My Paris Kitchen” by David Lebovitz. A professional chef, he had spent nearly 13 years cooking at Chez Panisse in Berkeley and later moved to Paris to write books. Read his memoir “The Sweet Life in Paris” about the pleasures and frustrations of living in Paris if you ever think about quitting your job and moving there. He also has a wonderful blog about food and Paris life at https://www.davidlebovitz.com/
Croque monsieur
Adapted from “My Paris Kitchen” by David Lebovitz
Serves 2 with a green salad
Ingredients
For the béchamel (a classic French white sauce made with equal parts butter and flour with milk added to form a rich sauce. Sure, you could skip, but this is what raises it above a ham and cheese sandwich)
1 tablespoon butter, salted or unsalted
1 tablespoon flour
3/4 cup (180ml) whole milk
pinch salt
pinch cayenne pepper
For the sandwich
4 slices sturdy sourdough bread
4 slices prosciutto or 2 slices boiled ham
2 thin slices of melting cheese, plus 3/4 cup (60g) grated cheese such as Comté, Gruyère or Cheddar,
4 tablespoons (55g) melted unsalted butter
To make the béchamel
In a small saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat then stir in the flour. When the mixture starts to bubble, cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute. Whisk in a third of the milk, breaking up any lumps, then add the rest of the milk. When the milk comes to a boil, reduce the heat so it's still simmering, and cook (whisking constantly) until the texture resembles runny mayonnaise, about 1 minute. Remove from heat, add salt and cayenne, and set aside.
To make the sandwiches
Turn on the broiler, place the oven rack in the upper third of the oven, and heat a skillet big enough that will hold both sandwiches over medium-high heat on the stovetop. (Be sure to use a pan with a heatproof handle, since you'll be putting it under the broiler and have some heavy duty mittens to handle it.)
Lay the four slices of bread on a counter. Spread the béchamel over all four slices of bread. Lay the ham and cheese slices on two of the slices of bread. Put the other slices of bread on top, with the béchamel facing down toward the ham and cheese, so it's inside. Brush the outsides (and both sides) of the sandwiches lavishly with the melted butter.
Place the sandwiches in the hot skillet and drape foil over the top. Rest a heavy object with a flat bottom, such as another pan, on the sandwiches and cook until the bread is well-browned. Flip the sandwiches, and the cook them on the other side the same way, until they're also browned.
Remove the weight and foil and sprinkle the grated cheese over the top of the sandwiches. Broil the sandwiches until the cheese melts and is browned.
Do-ahead: You can make the béchamel sauce a few days ahead and store it in the refrigerator.
Smoked salmon and avocado
Serves 2 or often, just 1
Yes, I stole this idea from a bagel-and-lox open-faced sandwich when I didn’t have a bagel but did have some good bread from the farmer’s market. Today there is a cult worship of avocado toasts but I was mashing avocados into toasted bread long before some of these kids could hold a chef’s knife. The key is there are not a lot of ingredients, so everything has to be great. That’s why I don’t add sliced tomatoes, unless it’s mid-summer and the fruit was grown in my backyard or somewhere close by.
Ingredients
2 slices fresh sourdough bread, approximately 1/2 inch thick
2 tablespoons goat cheese, allowed to warm on the counter
1 halved, pitted Hass avocado
1 lime, cut in half
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 pieces thinly sliced smoked salmon
Sliced tomato (only if they are in season: a supermarket tomato even touching this sandwich will ruin the whole thing)
2 teaspoon capers, drained
Toast the bread in your toaster or under the broiler (if you have the grill going, that’s even better). Smear the goat cheese on the toasted bread and then lay down thin slices of avocado to cover it (I neatly slice my half of the avocado into thin pieces, removing the skin then, but my wife simply scoops pieces from her avocado half to press into the bread: you need to choose your own style). Squeeze a half of lime over the avocado, then sprinkle salt and a grind of black pepper. Layer two pieces of smoked salmon (if you have more on hand, no reason not to sneak another slice on for good luck.) If tomatoes are in season add a couple of slices, then top with capers.
Tuna salad sandwich
I don’t actually have a recipe for this. My mother made it countless times and somehow, even growing up as a kid who didn’t cook, it became ingrained in me; mostly, how the final product felt and looked. To write this, I invited my wife, who doesn’t cook, to make it as I figured out the measurements. (Mom didn’t want to be held back by measuring things.) It still came out great, so I think we are safe. This is one time where the usual sandwich bread better suits the meal. You want something solid but using artesian sourdough bread will actually detract from the sandwich; this is all about the tuna salad.
Serves four (with leftovers)
Ingredients
8 slices white or whole wheat bread
2 5-ounce cans solid white albacore tuna in water
3 to 4 medium sweet Gherkin pickles, minced
2 celery sticks, tops and bottoms removed, minced
Tablespoon of sweet brine from the pickle bottle (maybe more)
Pinch of kosher salt
Small handful of chives, snipped into salad when ready
1/3 to ½ cup Best Food Real mayonnaise (or whatever brand you have on hand)
This is a great dish to prepare in the morning and enjoy it for lunch. Drain the cans of tuna in a fine strainer, breaking up the flesh and pushing it against the strainer until dry. Scoop into a medium bowl. Combine the tuna with pickles, celery, the brine from the pickles, pinch or two of salt, and then snip the chives directly into the bowl and stir until it is a homogeneous mix. It’s easier to see if everything is mixed well before you add the mayonnaise.
The key is to make it moist with mayonnaise but don’t overload it, or that’s all you will taste. The mayo just holds things together. So, add the 1/3 cup first and stir vigorously until everything is combined; taste it and really think if it will actually improve with more mayonnaise or if something else is missing. This is all about how you want the final product. Mix it again, cover the bowl and set in the refrigerator for an hour or so. (That’s why it’s good to get a jump on it in the morning).
Once you’re ready to eat, toast bread on both sides, and apply a good layer of tuna salad; maybe a piece of crunchy romaine lettuce or slice of ripe, local tomato, and make another sandwich, since you’ll eat this one way too fast.