You Say Sandwich, We Say Yeah!

There’s a lot going on here. Eating this in a taxi on the way to the airport, I swore to myself to remember the details of what made this creamy Sammie explode but it’s hazy. The 5-inch thick sandwich included the typical three slices of plain brown bread, and played host to many layered ingredients expected in the Club Sandwich genre. A roasted veggie tomato spread of some sort, lettuce, cucumber, turkey, a rather tasteless cheese I didn’t realize was there at first, perhaps avocado or some other greenery before a fantastic fried egg and the customary bacon. Lots of mayonnaise with unidentified green herbs or onions perhaps and butter, providing a deliciously slippery mess of a Club. From the brightly inviting storefront, the nice service, and cute-named breakfast plates, the ladies who work here also seem quite fun. 

I popped my Scandinavian sandwich cherry in Oslo with a fantastic smoked salmon on seeded bread. I bit into the dense, chewy bread heavily crusted with sesame, flax, and sunflower seeds, as my sandwich companion noted that whole flax acts as an exfoliator for the lower intestine. This is a definite bonus, as folks in these parts seem to like flax seeds on practically everything. Under the lid, there are many regular ingredients in the classic Norwegian sandwich combo, including thick slices of salmon, a spreadable cream cheese flecked with herbs and pepper (possibly even carrot), plus only slightly wilted greens, and thinly sliced cucumber. 

  After passing up a $30 open-face sandwich toppling with an impressive vertical assortment of dilled shrimpies, caviar, and a generous lemon slice, I opted for this miserably flat $9 boxed sandwich. There’s not much to say here through the tears. So instead, I post a picture of the one that got away, as a reminder to all readers: if in doubt, spring for the real deal. Post Script: thankfully, our correspondent in Norway made good this summer and became well acquainted with the classic Scandi-sammie, the glorious open face piled high with various seafoods.

I'll gladly go on record here to say this is the best sandwich at the Toronto International Airport for under ten bucks. Herein we find everything needed for a decent "falafal" experience, save possibly pickled turnip and a drizzle of olive oil and cumin or other toasted spices to upgrade the presentation of the two dips: hummus and baba ganoush. Hummus seems to have something slightly sweet, perhaps sweet potato or red pepper in the mix. Otherwise, a slice of fresh lemon, sliced cucumber, red pepper, cherry tomatoes, crisp lettuce, kalamata olives and springy pita are all on deck, and there is enough of each to go around. 

With a line up out the door on a Friday afternoon and a full on BBQ set up bringing in the Gastown business drifters, I went for the pork sandwich, which turned out to be a very filling option of a banh mi with roasted pork tenderloin. I've been to Railtown cafe a number of times before, but being way out of the way, and only open on weekdays until 6, it's never a priority. They don't have much in the way of competition, and their food is fresh and flavourful, but they are missing a certain something that keeps me from being too excited. Everything looks good, and tastes good, but there is no wow. For a city like Vancouver, you would think there would be half a dozen of these places, in Gastown alone, but Railtown's anomaly to do a decent lunch is what brings in the hoards, and lining up to get an average lunch is just not good enough for me.

I am on a full on city-wide search for a decent reuben, and so far, I am pretty disappointed in what passes for a smoked meat sandwich in this town. Having lunch at Paul's Omelettery , where I have only ever had an omelette, I opted for the reuben as how else will I ever know. Scanning the menu to see that they do indeed offer a corned beef hash, I figured the meat will have to be at least half way decent if they are double downing its usage. Listed as a grilled sandwich option, I asked not to grill the bread, but it came toasted anyways. I am guessing the rye bread is not so fresh, and the reuben? Disappointing because no one here cares.

The basic breakfast roll pictured above was four bucks, already twice as much as it once shortly ago. I got it somewhere near Sullivan Street, starved out after some bad, expensive coffee that cost just as much. I don't see many bodegas in Manhattan proper anymore, so when I do, I pay my respects. Staying in Brooklyn, the corner bodegas still offer this type of sandwich, but more and more, they are being pushed out by the cafe bistros that already dominate Manhattan by offering upscale versions of the classic, like the greasy mess of a Reuben pictured here, which was no Reuben in my books. Putting together more expensive ingredients does not a good sandwich make, especially if the maker is unskilled in sandwich preparation. While your storefront may showcase the finest baked sweets, if you don't know how to make a sandwich or pull a long shot, then you are charging twenty bucks for me to look at your haircut. Gentrification has ruined entire neighborhoods, if not entire ...

It was not quite 5am on a Saturday morning when I ordered my breakfast bagel sandwich from Tim Horton's and noticed a pretzel bagel option. So be it, I thought. I don't ever go near a Tim Horton's unless I'm on the road, but you know what? This was pretty good. I love me a pretzel, and most street vendor pretzels are as dry as hell. This was at least moist and chewy, and came in a sandwich form!

I walked by this sign before being highly recommended to go, The Scone Witch somehow flew over my sandwich pun detector. Using fluffy handmade scones for all of their sconewitches, I settled into a breakfast sconewitch of ham, egg, and cheese. I was warned that they did not offer sweet scones for the sandwich option, only savoury, and for a coven of witches, you would think they would think outside the box. Nevertheless, A hot, fancy plate arrived in due time stacked higher than wide, hollowing out the centre of the scone to fill in the breakfast items. The purist in me really questions the validity of this so-called sandwich. While a toad in the hole style presentation is still a sandwich, the flakiness of the scone makes it impossible to eat without utensils, pushing it further into the realm of a quiche. I never got to go back, but I would try one of their lunch options to see how they handle the tuna option.

Never much for the sweets, I somehow find myself hauling ass to Thierry's for their macarons time and time again. Using more salt than sugar is perhaps this chocolaterie's secret, and having tried most of their desserts and even one of their ham and cheese croissants ( documented here ), I finally sat down for lunch with a guest to sample their baguettes proper. Going for the jambon blanc and gruyère with a touch a dijon fromage frais, the winner was my companion's selection of the cold smoked wild sockeye salmon with the caper cream cheese, which also happened to have just the perfect amount of fresh dill blended in. Overflowing from an aromatic and densely chewy baguette with just the right amount of crust, it's the type of sandwich that leaves you with a tinge of flour on your fingertips and a yearning for more. Of course, the baby gherkins were the perfect finisher, along with a few macarons to share. Oh, Thierry!

Disappointing bread, fascinating combo of fillings. Your usual roasted veggie sammie's got red pepper, zucchini, tomato, possible mushroom, possible cheese, and onion, but it's often pretty predictable. This number opens up to a bunch of unexpected delights, including curly green kale softened by oil and marinade, and what appears to be julienne broccoli stems. It could be a big disaster, but about halfway I'm digging the crunch, and I notice a further unifying element... some red sauce squeezing out from under the veg. "Is that? No, it cannot be ketchup?!? It must be homemade tomato jam of some sort, I see seeds," I say to myself. Regardless, I'm into it.