You Say Sandwich, We Say Yeah!

  A rare sandwich meeting between Young Elvis and J.D. Salami. Meeting at Forno to sample their treats, this is JD's version of the story. Having previously sampled the ham on fresh foccacia already with thin slices of lemon (that was a full on flavour pool party in my mouth), I went back to the classic porchetta on dark bread sweetened with morsels of chocolate. While both sandwiches are cut in half, we did not share. We had a long overdue catch up, facing each other straddling the bench of treats, and cruised people coming east and west on King Street, contemplating how our tastes in sandwiches, in people, have slowly overlapped over the years, and how they have also remained distinct.

You try to plan ahead for travel by buying a nice sandwich/salad combo from a fancy place downtown, then arrive at the airport, catch one whiff of thai express and the possibility of enjoying that sandwich evaporates.  Like delays, travel moods and cashew chicken cravings cannot always be anticipated. What I'm doing at the airport with a vegetarian white bean ragout sandwich I can't say. Regardless, today downtown does no better than Pearson's food services, so I'll propose some cranky renovations. First, apply Nigela Lawson's chickpea recipe to the white beans. Delete all the small chunks of filler veggies (carrots? really?) and eliminate or drastically cut the salad greens, then substitute long strips of grilled zucchini seasoned with lemon. Throw in some fresh mint or dill, and feta. Or whateva. Just an ingredient , I don't even care what. Look at what's beside this thing: more salad greens. I want to shout, what's the poi...

At first, not salty enough, though the curried creaminess dotted with mango and raisins builds in flavour and eventually, I don’t question it anymore. Still, the logic of tomato and lettuce on this sandwich escapes me. A crispy green apple might work better, but at the end of the day I've got no complaints because "The Potrero Hill" (as it's called at Klein's) ranks as the best airport sandwich in recent memory.

Young Elvis reporting with more of a photo essay here, as I got some time on my hands. I'm stuck in the airport with $20 travel delay voucher from the airline and Starbucks seems to be the best option. Hidden under huge poofy bread -- the kind that one quickly grows weary of chewing -- is a pretty decent piece of grilled chicken, and quite a few leaves of slimy lettuce. Not bad.

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. 

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.

Both offerings are quite small.  On first bite, the Porter mini (right) is a clear winner. The Turkey brie features a thick pleasantly creamy piece of brie and absolutely decent shaved turkey, with a festive cranberry studded mini bread. Plus a side of chewy oatmeal cookies? No contest. BB Caprese features rubbery cartoon bread, insubstantial tomato and tasteless mozza. Confession: this is the kind of "research" sandwich purchased only because it epitomizes an excuse to gripe. It doesn’t disappoint in that regard! 

This sammie doesn't have a ton of curb appeal when shut with the breaded edge facing outwards, and so was skeptical of it. I assumed that the bun would have a hard shell to rip up my mouth - the unfortunate side effect of a crusty sandwich.  But within my first few bites, I cannot believe the error in my ways. What a brilliant concept to pile Eggplant Parmesan with tomato ragout into a feather-light bun! It has a sharp tomatoey tang with just the right amount of acidity, and the satisfying oily texture of eggplant melts right into a kind of savory pudding in the mouth. Presumptions aside, this elegant and hearty Italian comfort food is packed with flavor and it does so right in the convenient format afforded by the sandwich. *Editors Note: Sadly the Eggplant Parmesan is no longer in rotation at PLENTY.

A near-centimetre thick piece of gouda, big pat of butter, two perfectly tiny pickles, and ample grainy mustard on a bun. Everything about this loosely arranged plate of ingredients was perfect. This was the first of many sandwiches, sides of pickles, salty pretzels and other Germanic comfort foods that were ordered. As soon as one was done, someone at the table got another. Google tells me that some beer halls in Brooklyn are cool and frequently host DJs and jazzbands along with their wurst, but the place that serves these straight up sandwiches doesn't appear to be on the radar of the internet. 

  I always want to think that radicchio prepared in this way is a high-class Italian thing, but honestly it’s a bit strange tasting. Maybe the magic is in the pairing, and in this instance, the cheese here wasn’t quite right. They seem to have retired this sandwich since I first had it. Lest readers think that I use You Say Sandwich as a platform for complaining, I'm thrilled to report that the PLENTY Nicoise sandwich is so good I’m surprised I haven’t come across it before—my favorite salad in sandwich form! Olive tapenade, tomato, cucumber, hard boiled egg, tuna salad with green onions. This is just such an overdue sandwich concept. I once feared that these loaves would rip up the top of my mouth--the phenomena that J.D. and I tend to call “crust burn”--but they’re surprisingly gentle for the good tooth exhibited.  The roasted shallot salad dressing on the greens that accompany each sandwich is sweetly addictive.

This is round two for Air Canada's veggie option, and it's a much better sandwich this time. Same kinda deal, boring roasted pepper, zucchini, tomato, arugula, and black olive combination, but in equal proportion to one another and more flavourful. The peppers in particular were meaty, not squishy and deflated, and even the arugula looks fresh. I didn't check the best before date, but it seems time was on our side here.

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 ...

On this day, I fancied rich chocolate ice cream with a spicy ginger cookie, but the possible combinations of cookie, ice cream, or sorbet are numerous. Served in wax paper and cute mini French fry baskets to catch the chocolatey drips, these sammies look nostalgic and taste divine. 

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

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...