You Say Sandwich, We Say Yeah!

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.

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. 

I had this exact same sandwich 2 years ago at Marco Polo airport in Venice. It's from the gift shop which is basically an over priced Italian deli, but that doesn't stop me from getting dry pasta and oils and a sandwich every time. Even if it's an airport sandwich, it's my last bites of a great Italian sandwich filled with young mozzarella and delicate prosciutto on a fresh crusty roll before I land somewhere in North America where the ingredients will just fall short. This is somewhere in Amsterdam en route to Germany en route to what became the longest train ride of my life. What should have been a simple 2 hour train ride became a hellish 6 + hour journey that led us to the border of Germany and back and then south and then over and then through the German city line where I had to follow a young student who kindly made small talk with me on her way home for a summer break who found America fascinating. Thank goodness I ate this weird tuna melt from Starbucks (w...

I'm usually such a purist when it comes to the grilled cheese. Melted cheese, butter, good bread, maybe a bit of onion. Maybe. Pickle on the side. Why deviate from what is solidly a delicious combination? The Melt Room looked like a mall kiosk with its shiny plastic decor, but I was brought there by a friend who was craving the lamb shoulder melt she read about in the paper, and I opted for the BBQ chicken, even though I hummed and hawed about the original. I should have just had the original. We shared half of each other's choices and I was put off by the romaine lettuce inside of her grilled cheese sandwich as well as the bland chicken in mine. The sourdough was rather good though and heavily buttered, but the fillings just really did not work. Located deep in Soho, I don't see how this place can last long, but then again, I have never understood British cuisine.

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.

I feel special when I unpack this sandwich in its little green box from EAT at London Heathrow. The British have really got the watercress thing right.

I’m not sure how my love of the British egg salad sandwich began, but it’s my go-to choice when visiting. There are some clear right and wrong preparations of this favorite, also common during catered lunches and funerals. After unwrapping the cello package, I fear my choice of gluten-free bread will doom this version. Soon though, I am waxing on the merits of the sandwich and my museum-going companion has asked for a bite, promptly commandeering half of the sandwich as we become distracted by the excellence of watercress. It is simply the only correct garnish here. Large chunks of celery and green onion are not, and they are thankfully included in a balanced proportion in Tate Modern’s version.  We approve ,  though the salt and pepper needed a boost. After busily scooting around to choice artworks on floor two and three, we take another break, and guiltily scoff down a second. For round two we decide to give the gluten-free bread a pass and opt for what seems ...

    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.

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.

I've ordered this all across Canada, and my data from at least 20 samples confirms that every Tim Horton's outlet makes their veggie bagel sandwich differently. Some places have it on the menu, and some places are veggie bagel deniers, so you have to walk them thru it. In that case, it may take five minutes to order one, because apparently no-one ever does and it's confusing to hear the words “veggie bagel” out of the blue like that. Maybe they are trying to tell me something, and yet I persist in ordering this non-remarkable sandwich at rest stops and airports because it is only $3.50 and often surrounded by equally uninspiring choices.  I tend to opt for a multigrain bagel, toasted, with swiss cheese, mayo, honey mustard, tomato, lettuce and cucumber. When these are fresh, it's quite good. A cautionary note that some locations will give only 1 slice of  tomato, so if that is not acceptable to you, be sure to specify that you want lots of tomatoes. One person...

I have to begin by saying that The Early Bird serves a sandwich called "The Fat Elvis" which struck fear in my heart, so I did not order it. I chickened out, and  J.D. Salami may never let me live this down. I generally tend to be the 'safe' veggie-sandwich-ordering pussy here at You Say Sandwich , and sometimes I do have a little shame about that as J.D. waxes eternal on the deliciousness of meat fillings. Note the smoked bacon on this plate. Carrying on. The Toad in a Hole was more like a Toad in a walkup apartment. Huge. Served with a knife stabbed in to help tackle the thing, a very convincing psycho-billy touch for this punk styled diner. Now that I am compiling my impressions on this towering toad palace, I wonder if the avocado tempura is supposed to be the toad, peeking out from under the bread. It sure looks like one! Regardless, there are a lot of mixed metaphors happening on my plate, but the unfortunate thing about the deep-fried avocado conce...

JANE. Jane is the main thing you need to know about the Bag Lady, a tiny living-room styled eaterie in London, Ontario. It could just as well be inside my head, the sandwich shop of my dreams, with its robin's egg blue walls, vintage housewares overflowing, and Jane and her team of cheerful powerhouse women in cute aprons making up delicious food everyday. The place is full of love, the sandwiches are full of veggies, spreads, meats and cheeses then wrapped up in adorable napkins and tied with twine. Or laid out on a pretty plate. The one I can't seem to shake off is the crusty grilled Italian, with tomatoes, spinach, mozza and a secret pesto spread that completes the charm of this sandwich. Red pepper, butternut, tomato soups or fruity, nutty salads could accompany should you wish. Brunch is excellent, but if you're really lucky, lounging on the couch, you'll smell an impromptu eggplant parmesan cooking and Jane will bring it out just before you go fully crazy with ant...