Sammidges

I have a confession to make. I have been snobbish about what to post on here, as I only considered certain dishes as ‘proper’ cooking. And because I haven’t done much ‘proper’ cooking lately, (apart from a very nice Oxtail and Red Wine stew, which I will do separate post on), it’s ended up a little quiet round these parts.

Well no longer. After some serious deep thoughts on the nature of everything, I have come to the conclusion that sandwiches are worth talking about. OK, so you don’t actually ‘cook’ a sandwich (apart from toasties), but there’s loads of things that you don’t have to heat up to consider it ‘proper’. Why not sandwiches? A really first rate sandwich involves a lot of consideration. It’s minimalist. You have a finite number of ingredients that can be used as a filling, pragmatically encased by the bread that provides texture, taste and structural integrity. A sandwich is basically a haiku. You are limited by your slices, but that forces you to think hard about what you want this lunch to really communicate. You might want to combine different flavours, textures, temperatures, or all of the above. Can you tell I did an Arts degree?

While Pete favours sandwiches that pack a punch with a lot of big flavours (a filling of haggis, salsa and olives springs to mind), I enjoy combining soft bread with something crunchy. Lettuce is the traditional sandwich texture-provider, but I would like to propose an alternative. Crisps. I'll say that again in case you missed it. Crisps. Everyone has put crisps in a sandwich before (I am happy both to generalise and call you a liar if you deny it), but I would like to make it a more mainstream sandwich filling choice.

Crisp Sandwich of choice: Pork sausages on white bloomer bread with salt and vinegar crisps.

This is the traditional lunch for the day following an evening of sausages. The sausages should be cold, cut in half lengthways and put on top of a slice of white buttered bread. Place the crisps on top of the sausages, and press the remaining slice down on top of it so the bread compresses and the crisps crack into shards.

Toasties are another beast. They already provide crunch through their toasted exterior, so you really just need to find a filling that works well at high temperatures.

Toasties are an odd little phenomenon. Most people seem to follow a cycle of enthusiasm and obliviousness. It seems that everyone periodically forgets that they exist, and need to be reminded every so often. The most toastie-heavy periods of my life have always been either when a student or unemployed. When you haven’t got much to do and you end up just twiddling your thumbs at home, you sometimes end up being a little more experimental with your toastie fillings. The downside is that when, say, your partner comes home and asks how your day was, it seems a little underwhelming to say ‘I just discovered the most fucking AMAZING toastie’. But you really can’t underestimate this joy.

Toastie of choice: Wensleydale, mozarella and pesto.

Butter the outside of the bread (as is traditional), spread the inside with a thin layer of pesto, lay on slices of wensleydale and shredded mozzarella. Make the toastie in the traditional way. The end result has long stringy strands of melted mozzarella combined with the salty crumbliness of wensleydale. I consider the pesto optional, but it adds a nice extra element of flavour.

I’ve never been much of a fan of sauces on sandwiches, although I know a lot of people would cry blasphemy if they witnessed by refusal of brown sauce or ketchup on a bacon sarnie. But since I particularly like the way that butter melts and interacts with a hot filling I find that sauces just interfere with this process. So just shut up, ok.

There are exceptions. At a meal out recently I had a pot of aioli with bread to dip in it. Apparently it was to share, so I suppose I should apologise. Anyway, it was delicious. Because life is too short to make it myself I’ve made a cheats version by softening a little smoked garlic (from Leamington Food Festival, but also available in Richard Clarke’s) in olive oil and whisking it into mayonnaise.

The first thing I thought of when faced with my new favourite spread was ‘chips’. Nothing unusual about that, to be honest I’m probably thinking about chips 78% of the time anyway, so it may have just been a coincidence. If so it was a very fortunate coincidence, as this would be lovely on your standard chip butty. My plans, however, were a little more outlandish. I started thinking… bigger.

Wrap of choice: Chips and aioli.

Spread the garlic mayonnaise over your wrap. Add pre-salt and vinegared chips, and roll up. Apply liberally to your mouth.

Get in.

Let’s get interactive – what’s your favourite sandwich? Show your workings.