You Say Sandwich, We Say Yeah!

The Chip Butty is an institution I am not sure I want to admit membership of, but in support of true scientific research, I shall admit - though, only once - to consuming this monochromatic staple of British diet. You would think Britain, with its history of Sandwiches (think "The Earl of...") would be more inventive with their bread-based food products, but therein lies the genius of the Chip Butty - it is so classically simple, understated and unexpected: who would have thought that you could get so much starch and empty carbohydrates into such a small, compact space? That its nutritional content hovers somewhere between zero and minus 20 makes the perfect base (or cap) of a night's heavy drinking, and this is part of its success, particularly in Scotland and working class cities across the UK. Its single colour and single taste could only be described as "unexpected" - in that when you eat something, you would expect it to taste of something...

A Scottish chain cafe that is a bit of a deli meets speciality gift and wine store, Peckhams has got locations all over the place, but the one I stopped in was the Union Square Mall in Aberdeen. With about 30 minutes in between transit changes, my travel companion and I stopped for a tea, and I ordered a roasted vegetable sandwich, asking if it'll be ready fast, while she ordered a bag of wasabi peas. The peas were all but eaten by the time I went up to see if the sandwich was ready, and I had to get it wrapped to go by then. In the short time span it took from wrapping to eating it en route, the heat of the roasted mushy vegetables had sogged up the underside of the bread. The vegetables, which mostly tasted of eggplant more than anything else, was rather bland, which always disappoints me in a hot sandwich. A poor panini appears popular in this country as I have yet to taste a good one. I may just have to have another go at the toastie , as at least my expectations are...

I had a cheese and onion chutney sandwich during a meeting a few weeks back in Aberdeen, and I wonder if this place had catered that meeting, as this is now the second time I've ever even seen a two cheese and onion chutney option for a sandwich, and hell, I like it. A twist on the cheese and pickle sandwich, with a bit more sweetness and caramelization action, there was a surprising bed of fresh mixed greens nestled between the cheese and chutney. A good preemptive move on the soggy factor, and texture factor, too. The cheese was your classic white and orange combo, a seeming mild combination or variant of cheddars, and the bread was a hefty seedy business that complimented the girth of a simple yet substantial sandwich. I came for the art, but like most cases, I stayed for the food. Check out their menu and philosophy . There's lots of original 'zines if you're into that sort of thing, and the usual art magazines, but then again it's not good for your digestion to...

Having poked my head into see their assortment of organic and gluten free fare, as well as a fair stock of Scottish treats like wild nettle cordial and real Scottish oats, I tried out their deli section with fresh ready when ordered sandwiches. Accompanying a mighty good parsnip soup, I went for the smoked ham, which I had plain with the grainy mustard as when prompted if I wanted "salad", I declined, thinking it was a side order. What they meant was all the fillings of lettuce, tomatoes and cheese that goes inside the sandwich. I don't regret my choice. It was a mighty tasty smoked ham, and while I have no sweet tooth, I was intrigued by Dovers Farm Organic ginger and brazil nut cookies made with stem ginger, and made without gluten, wheat, milk, salt, buckwheat, soya, eggs or hydrongenated fat. But like most gluten free products, they crumble in your mouth like dust, but albiet, a gingery tasting dust.

Nestled in the heart of Merchant City, the Trans-Europe Cafe is a quiet little spot that boasts a selection of classic gourmet European sandwiches. Stopping in after a meeting a few doors down I felt I needed a pick-me up, and so I went with what I thought would be the spiciest, the Madrid: chorizo with pesto and mozzarella. The sandwich was all right, but not classic or gourmet, though perhaps relatively so to the aforementioned toasties. The flavour was arguably more Italian than Spanish, or worse, it was sort of American, as it was still a hoagie bun, just sliced diagonally and pressed. The accompanying sides of coleslaw, argula salad (which they listed as spinach), and salted crisps were a nice touch, as was my spiced apple tea. Taking a quick look over their menu , I would return to see what Zurich is all about.

A classic Scottish fare, the toastie is basically a sandwich consisting of toasted white bread filled with some sort of mayonnaise-heavy melody. Ordering the cheese and tuna toastie one Saturday morning before I went to explore the river, my curiosity is satisfied, and need not be reminded again. The hot rolls, on the other hand, will be for another day, and probably another blog.

True to culinary fashion in queer circles, the grilled cheese sandwich at Montreal's Cagibi was accompanied by a mini salad with grated beet and pumpkin seeds. The soggy appearance of the side pickle, perhaps not so much, but a sign of things to come: from wholesome lesbionic salad to  crispy grilled  seedy bread, that bracketed an also soggy marriage of cheddar and mozza cheese, pesto and tomato. By soggy marriage don't mean to evoke anti-assimiliationist critiques of the institution, but I do mean complete integration into a unified and undistiguishable new flavour. This is probably satisfying, like porridge, or baby food, but not particularly refined or exciting. It does in a pinch, but other cooks, like my new fuck buddy, have revived this old standby far beyond the pleasure of easy and comforting.