You Say Sandwich, We Say Yeah!

This is why I keep a sandwich blog. This. Right here. Eggplant parm at Nonna's gets your automatic cheese, and I'm pretty sure out of that free cheese guilt I paid extra to get zucchini, which was hella not necessary, but have I mentioned that I'm eating healthy now?

A mid afternoon Reuben before an early office dinner seemed like a bad idea, but the rush hour traffic getting out of the core was so bad that I was for once the only person not starving at the table. Still, I ate the most at that dinner, but my stomach had been contracted with this medium sized sandwich, light on the slaw, with fries and gravy extra, and some special Greek deserts thrown in. One of Avenue Diner's better hot sandwich offerings, I may ask for extra corned beef next time, just for good measure. PS. good pickle. wish I got two!

A birthday feast at Mamma Martino 's was not complete without multiple orders of garlic bread and house salad, and of course, a pizza pie, but as it was a special day, I also ordered the chicken parm sandwich, because I needed to know. The meat was tender and delicious, and I would definitely try the eggplant and veal in future orders, but it's hard, because all those other things also needed to be ordered, so maybe I will have to wait until my next birthday. It was also on Halloween when we went, and the haunted house at the owner's house was truly a magical, amazing time. The people at Mamma Martino's know how to have a good time, and whether he was earnest or not in inviting us back in the summer for a pool party, we may just show up anyhow.

A sad looking roll really, but I recall devouring it greedily as I stood waiting for the Overground at Queen's Road Peckham station, calling at . . . Picking up the roll at Blackbird Bakery below, along with their delicious Scotch eggs, the English roll is far inferior to the Scottish roll, and yet, the English Scotch egg is always far better. Cholesterol conundrums.

A farewell ice cream sandwich one summer evening on Bloor Street, the Bakerbot on Bloor is not my favorite, but then again, ice cream sandwiches in general are losing my favour. This chocolate and raspberry combo did nothing for me, but my companion, who was doing the departing, enjoyed his, and so, it was worth it. Some backstory of the Bakerbot on Bloor and Ossington was given, but I did not retain. I don't see how there is even competition between the two anymore, but again, I have little invested.

Stopping into EMPAC for a visit in upstate NY, lunch or was it breakfast was had at their lone cafe at the bottom of their space dome. A hearty beef dip this must have been, and the beautiful white catalogue of EMPAC was only there to remind me of where this was, but while sandwich eating this hot glorious mess, the book was pushed farther away from splash reach. I remember the dipping jus was quite excellent.

The way they taunt you from every corner bakery . . . . . . Made a mistake and got one from an upscale bakery. Worst sandwich offering in a week . . .   . . . But recovered by buying all the sandwich ingredients at a small market for a fraction of the price including some tomato and onion to kick it up a notch, plus smoky bacon chips! 

Absolutely no need for a face-off save my exhaustion at sandwich posting, there is a connection between these two clubs. As Bernie from Le Pick Up referred me to Lester's club offering one sandwich eating session last summer, I couldn't help but have my interest piqued from one sandwich fiend to another. I love a club sandwich. So classic. Not a lot of places do it anymore, and not a lot of them do it right. Lester's was pretty good. Sure, the turkey was a smidge on the dry side, but it tasted goooood. Below, Le Pick Up's club on the right, and never able to order just one sandwich there, it's probably the breakfast sandwich on the left. Love that little guy. The club at LPU is infinitely more substantial given entire slabs of grilled chicken breast, but while the shape of a club was there, the sandwich actually fell apart on me. Finding myself eating more chicken breast than bread, or lettuce, tomato, and bacon, it was tasty, but it was too much chicken, no...

Because McDonalds was not yet open, we had to eat at the airport. One last dip into Portuguese style sandwiches of breaded veal or chicken, a salmon sandwich was also picked up, and some unidentifiable sandwich that was not breaded meat was also purchased for variety. I ate the breaded thing, and the other two were for Millie on her journey. She later said the salmon was also bad, after a bad unidentified earlier offering, but my context appropriate breaded meat offering was just fine. I recall fancy plastic seating overlooking a few airport shops, and feeling very 60s Mod, I sat there nursing these sandwiches in my fatigue zone.

Stopping into Hung Phat for a farewell late lunch and to load up for the train home, Millie Burger and I ordered three different banh mi's, a steamed pork bun, and an order of salad rolls, thinking that would be enough. Our crucial mistake was ordering three different types of sandwiches, as we then suddenly had to try them all. Also, having not eaten all day, we devoured everything like animals.  I think by then, a long line up had formed, and I had to go next door to the supermarket to pick up another sandwich for the train, a fourth banh mi, which was not as good, but what can you do about it.

Never until now had I experienced a real muffaleta sandwich. Made by my host Andrea's boyfriend, Erik, who I didn't get to meet, but who I will hold in high esteem for quite sometime, this rotund stacker had me salivating even after eating a Kokum bannock burger (which was awesome btw). I took a wedge back to the hotel with me, even if I was leaving the next morning and still had a box of salt and vinegar fried chicken wings from Kokum's. I ended staying up quite late, watching Die Hard as it repeated itself on cable tv, and by the middle of the second late night viewing, I was finishing up this beautiful monster. I dreamt about mortadella for weeks afterwards! At 2AM, the pickled vegetables were starting to sog through, and I am glad I did not take an extra wedge for the road as it would not have lasted, but the fine layers of meat, cheese, and veg on a whole loaf was truly inspirational. I will attempt to make my own muffaleta of this calibre when I regain my strength...

  Probably one of the cutest vacays I have had in a while, a stop into Sugar Moon Farm lured me to stay in Pictou County, and I am sure am glad we did! Known for using regional ingredients farmed and raised and milled nearby to shape its seasonal menu, we caught the tail end of summer, sharing plates of sausages, pancakes, and breakfast sandwiches, all slathered in their famous sugar moon maple syrup. Using heirloom grains for their bread, presumably from their supplier at Speervile , the fluffy solid top and bottom of this breakfast sandwich was more griddle cake than crumpet, and yet, hearty like a biscuit. We didn't have time to walk the grounds as a ferry needed to be caught, but I will have to make my way back someday. Someday.

Someone would say, Never, and I would often always agree, yet, look upon this beast of coleslaw in a bun. A wee dog hangs out on either end, but once you are in the middle of this dog, where you suddenly have to two hand it and squish everything back inside the bun, the moment sure felt like a sandwich, that I cannot deny.

On the first day of snow in Montreal, and stressed out in getting to the train station just barely on time to catch the train, I emotionally ate this Mother Hen sandwich along with these bagged snacks back to Toronto. I seemed to remember this sandwich being quite good, and the VIA staff quite rude, but nothing new there.

Trying to remember where this was eaten, and I can only make a guess that this was a quick stopover breakfast at Bread Alone in Woodstock, NY. On our way out of town, but not before we hit the Woodstock farmer's market for crystals and old timey things, I am pretty sure I ordered this egg and cheese breakfast sandwich alongside a bowl of oatmeal, because I am healthy now. The bakery was raved about by our hosts, and it was hopping when we got there, witnessing strangers interact with each other over the height of Pokemon craze, but I don't recall this sandwich being awesome. Maybe because it lacked bacon, which one of my travel companions had with her gluten-free meal. I recall the bacon being pretty delicious. Everything in Woodstock was raved about though, but it was all a bit too precious for me. But would I visit again? Probably.

While I never got on board with peameal bacon, this thick cut smoked bacon is something I still get thirsty just thinking about! From one of the first vendors near the main doors, they carve the bacon for you to take away or for immediate sandwich eating. Sharing this salty beast, the verdict was: "Glad we tried it, but I'd rather take home the bacon." Main reason: their bun sucks bad. A floppy oversized hot dog bun at best, it could barely hold the substantial salt of the bacon, let alone the fatty parts. It's been about two years, and I have still not gone back. I have passed by, and as long as they are using this cheap bread, I will continue perusing elsewhere for my meat salts.

Always a sucker for a reuben sandwich, and in a strange town I had never been before, I found myself at the local crafty yarn store for lunch and so ordered me a reuben. The Shabby Motley Handcraft had a reputation for one of the better homestyle cooking around town, and so on a lunch break from the college, I had me a tumeric soy latte, a bowl of carrot soup, and a sandwich. By no stretch was this the best reuben I have had, but it was fine and it was tasty, though I don't like my rye toasted for a reuben. The meat was thin, and the sauerkraut thick, but I have no taste memory to make me think fondly of this sandwich. The tumeric latte, however, I will definitely recommend.

Many a baguette and salad did I consume from EAT, the cheap on the go food store whose eponymous name I never really saw until it was pointed out to me. After dipping into a restaurant near the Southbank on a chilly rainy afternoon, and inquiring about any soup specials, the haughty maitre'd suggested I try EAT, which was just a stone's throw away, as they do soups on the daily. His haughty-ness paid off, as while they had sold out soup by then, their baguettes like this solid chicken, avocado and bacon satiated me daily during a nearby film festival. Never soggy a baguette, which is an impressive feat given it plastic wrapping, and substantial fillings, I was really sad to leave the EAT at Heathrow not knowing when I shall return again.