Beef Dip, The Whip, Vancouver

Before I moved from Vancouver, I ate almost every meal out, as my kitchen had been packed up and I had to say my farewells via shared meals. At one of these meetings, I downed cans of Lucky at The Whip as some degenerate form of good-bye, and grew hungry.

After a few cans, I needed something to eat, and so this happened: A Beef Dip. West Coast style. That is a healthy salad and a splash of jus for the dipping. The bread was pretty good, fresh and crispy, but the beef was a bit slim and chewy. A beef dip, in my perfect world, is stacked with melt in your mouth slices of beef, a real offensive amount of jus and blood soaking through the bread. This was not it, and I ate it, and never looked back.

Comments

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

You Say Sandwich, We Say Yeah!

Search This Blog