Frittata sandwich, Wild Fire Bakery, Victoria

Artisan bakeries take themselves seriously, right? I am always a little surprised when I see premade sandwiches at these places, as don't they know what happens to their bread once they wrap it in plastic and throw it in the fridge display?

I had this frittata sandwich with a bowl of lentil soup, and it was good, but you could tell it would have been great if it had been freshly made. For starts, the homemade focaccia left the plastic wrap so oily that no amount of paper napkins could render the situation better. The cheese had been put on the other side of the frittata, which in theory, should work for a cold sandwich, but somehow, it just didn't. The layer of frittata itself was also incredibly sparse and filled with almost entirely asparagus, which left me sort of sad. Next time, I would buy their bread and make a sandwich elsewhere.

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Monty’s Bakehouse wrap, Air Canada

I’d rate this wrap as strange. Its packaging created expectations of a more appetizing experience, which it was not. After a vastly superior egg salad sandwich from London Heathrow, I could not greet this airplane freebie with serious interest, but at least it was hot, and at least I could review it for this blog. Steaming contents were oozy and largely undistinguishable, but suggested some kind of red pepper or sundried tomato origins.

Specialty Sandwich, Amtrak train dining car

Advertised as the "Specialty Sandwich" on board the Oakland to Los Angeles Amtrak train, this $9.75 grilled cheese seems a safe vegetarian bet, just as a bagel and cream cheese does when faced with weird processed meat choices aboard the VIA Rail in Canada. The specialty allegedly features gruyere and smoked cheddar, however each cheese was tasteless, plastic, and greasy, cooling to reveal six slices of highly processed cheese product. The crisp, somewhat grainy bread absorbed cheese sweat from inside, completely obliterating any relief that the mustard or tomato could have provided, and was thoroughly saturated in a meaty residue from the grill on the outside. This sandwich leaves the kind of mouthfeel that a glass of water cannot wash away. Note: pack toothbrush in carry-on.

La Esquina Del Chilaquil, Mexico City

The original spot for torta de chilaquiles, the line-up to La Esquina Del Chilaquil was down the block by the time I arrived at 9:30AM. Workers ran back and forth from their corner pop up tent to an indoor kitchen out of sight to refill bins of red sauce, green sauce, fried meat, and chilaquiles. Only operating for about 5 hours a day from 8:30 to 1PM or whenever they sell out, the hype was strong, and the hype was real. While a torta is your run of the mill sandwich, chilaquiles is a popular breakfast dish of fried tortilla chips served with hot salsa. Some have called this dish a soggy nacho, but I don't think that this description does justice to the level of salsa involved. Yes, the chips are soaked in salsa, but if the salsa is fresh and deeply flavourful, then what's the problem? Apparently, this was the first place to load the torta with a heavy helping of chilaquiles. In my mind, this would be a mess, and in my hands, it was one of the messiest wettest sandwich exper

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