You Say Sandwich, We Say Yeah!

Tired, nay, unwilling to wait in the ridiculously long line up at Tim Horton's after clearing security at Pearson's, I stood in line with all the other early morning commuters until I realized the line had stopped moving some minutes ago. With an express line for those only getting beverages, the cashiers serving us hungry bastards had been a standstill, and I left with only a few minutes until boarding time. This produced a rushed decision, and this egg salad with spinach seemed like the most appropriate alternate option to a breakfast bagel. With a seeded bread, the egg salad was nothing to write home about, and I appreciated the spinach, but I do wonder why only the Brits put watercress in their sandwiches. Can we not follow suit? It's probably the best thing the Brits have ever done, so instead of having the Queen on our money, can we just have watercress in our sandwiches?

I've walked by The Dirty Apron countless times, and you think I would have walked in at the mere hint of SANDWICHES so prominently written across its chalkboard, but something kept me away, perhaps because I felt the sandwiches would be made by those taking the cooking classes, and well, I don't want an amateur. On the suggestion of someone who was briefly in town and ate their take out sandwiches for a week, I thought I would try it out en route to a meeting. Offering both baguettes and paninis, I opted for the baguette to see what they're really made of. Choosing the roast chicken sandwich that comes with chipotle mayo, roast tomato, parmesan, and watercress and a few anchovies, I agree with Young Elvis's recent observation that watercress is a damn fine complement in a sandwich. That said, I had a few issues with this sandwich. While the chicken was fine and accented by the anchovy, there seemed to be more chipotle mayo than chicken, and the baguette t...

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 ...