You Say Sandwich, We Say Yeah!

For a lazy summer breakfast, with lots of ketchup and a side of sautéed swiss chard from a nearby farm. Can't beat it. 

While this blog documents a lot of traveling and dining out, I know Young Elvis and I also love eating and making home made sandwiches more often than not from our respective lairs. After the most recent trip, I spent the first weekend bunking down, including roasting off a free range chicken from the butcher's down the street, and rendering the carcass into stock. The meat, however, found its way into many a sandwich later that week, including this number paired with a hint of tarragon Dijon, Canadian cheddar cheese, and fresh arugula. I love a bit of that peppery arugula to go with something like chicken, and the bird itself was roasted with a simple garlic and fresh basil marinade that keeps the flavours mild, yet deep. The bread is picked up from the Euro deli just a block down where loaves are delivered daily and last half that long. I personally prefer a bit of roasted chicken skin within the sandwich, but for some reason restaurants rarely if ever offer that as an opt...

    Pret A Manger , or just Pret, are everywhere. It is because of their ubiquitous presence that I avoided them for so long. However, I caved upon boarding a nine hour flight and picked up a cheese and pickles baguette, a combination I knew I would not find on the other side.  Fairly affordable and fresh, Pret has really cornered a market on sandwiches on the go. I watched somebody bee line it for a Pret, and then mange it while walking through the busy Tube station. While I protested that she sit down and eat, she refused, but saved a last bite for when we switched trains, savouring at least a bit of that sandwich away from that windy tunnel.  I myself ate the sandwich a quarter of the way into the flight while watching Toy Story 3. Only then was I slightly road weary.  I have mixed feelings about Pret, after all, as maybe they are just too convenient.

  That little piece of paper above the cakes reads: "VICTORIA SANDWICH" I don't know if I wholly agree, but I tried one nonetheless.  Sitting in the sun outside the Tate Britain with a fellow sandwich lover, we could not agree on whether the Victoria Sponge was a sandwich, and whether the Victoria Sponge was dry or not. I thought not a sandwich, and dry, while she felt the opposite. We ate it all the same.  I don't think it's a sandwich obviously because it's a piece of cake, but also because its assembly and engagement.  You cannot pick this up and eat it like a sandwich. It requires a fork, and maybe a spoon since I felt it dry, and only the cream filling held the thing together. A sandwich, in my eyes, must be a considered sum of its parts, and this is mere filling.

Obviously I ate more than just these two pannes while in Venice for 3 days, but this is a pretty accurate summary of what I would eat midday between  ripe piches for breakfast and mind-melting pastas and pizzas for dinner. I also eat gelato all day long, but that should be a whole other blog unto itself. Running around for La Biennale di Venezia , food must be quick, and food must be sustaining. Once inside though, the food is awful and overpriced, so my only advice is to sneak inside sandwiches from nearby streets that are a fraction of the Euro and much tastier in freshness.  Vegetarian options are plentiful alongside the cured meats. My cohort Young Elvis may think I am a voracious carnivore, but if the veggies are flavourful, I eat them all the same. Pictured top is a roasted veg panne with lots of eggplant just the way I like it, and below is prosciutto and young mozzarella from within the airport. Admittedly, I prefer the latter.  

I ended up frequenting four pubs on my last day in Edinburgh before getting on the sleeper train down to London. I bunked in and waited until we pulled into Euston. I arrived with no confirmed plans on where I was going, if I was going to be picked up, where I was to head to, and I didn't even know if my phone would ever work in these United Kingdoms. It turns out when you need it to, and I settled down for this grease mess before the next leg of city trains to the very South West of the city. This sad looking breakfast sandwich would be my first meal in London and my worst meal. So, it did get better. For the curious, that slab of pink on the left is suppose to be bacon and that bit on the right is sliced up sausage links with some scrambled egg sitting on a bed of catsup. Travel food takes advantage of those too tired and hungry to care, but c'mon people, standards must be set somewhere.

The classic bacon and egg roll. I want one. Every time.  This beaut comes from Bijou's , down in the Leith Links, during a rare Scottish heat wave.