A Damn Good B.E.A.T.

Courtesy of my sister and brother-in-law.  This is an amazing sammich.  It's one of those things that simply defies being labeled.  I would be as excited to eat this for b-fast as I would for dinner.

Thanks guys!

Anderson B.E.A.T.

4 slices bacon

2 tablespoons butter, room temperature

Good bread (baguette or similar), 

4 ounces cream cheese, room temperature

1 teaspoon minced fresh parsley leaves

1 teaspoon minced green onion

1/8 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

2 large eggs

4 slices tomato

1/2 avocado, peeled, pitted, and sliced

Directions

In a small skillet, cook bacon over medium-high heat until crispy. Remove from pan, and drain on paper towels. Drain grease from pan, reserving 1 tablespoon.

Spread butter over each side of bread. Place 4 slices of bread, butter side down, on skillet over medium heat. Flip bread and toast the other side. Remove to serving plates.

In a small bowl, add cream cheese, parsley and green onions together. Add salt and pepper. Spread onto 1 side of each bread slice.

In same small skillet, fry the eggs in reserved bacon grease over medium-low heat. Crack the yolks and flip. Place each egg on top of 2 pieces of toast. Cover each egg with 2 slices of bacon, 2 slices of tomato, and 2 slices of avocado. Top with another piece of bread and serve immediately.

Envy, Adoration and Sour Grapes?

Pain Porc @ Cafe Claude. This is as illustrative way as any to draw out my true feelings toward the French kitchen.

Envy. All you gotta do is taste this sandwich. Perfectly fresh. Perfectly balanced. Perfect.

Adoration. It's a roasted pork tenderloin sandwich. I know that all parts of the pig are good, but there's a reason the saying is 'livin' high on the hog'. Sure a buttress, ham or even a loin would be fantastic. But it's just so French to use tenderloin. Kinda like a Foie burger or frying pommes in duck fat. Just a better way of doing things...health, food cost, and whatever else be damned.

Sour grapes? Well, not really. Replication is not easy. Perhaps it's that food always tastes better when someone else makes it, but that's not it in this case. That's just what I continue to tell myself as I try to wrap my mind around how the hell they manage to make this perfect sando.

No, sour grapes it isn't. I'm not trying to rationalize why I don't want it. Rather, I'm trying to convince myself not to break into the place under the cover of darkness to try and figure out the secret. Did Aesop ever write a fable about epicurean-related B&E?

If you're ever in SF, give it a go. If you're let down, you're wrong.

Always A Classic

As I was making my breakfast sandwich this morning, I was thinking about simpler times.  To clarify, I was thinking about last week.  Those times were simpler, as I have recently gone grocery shopping and now have more choices from which to draw the goods that will make up my b-fast sando.  

No, friends, last week was much simpler.  What I had on hand then was 2 pieces of toasted white bread, a fried egg cooked in butter, a slice of melted cheddar and a piece of ham.

This might be the cheapest way to encapsulate and manifest the word 'yum'.  And, it can be done for under $.25.

Pretty amazing...

Lemon Juice and Feta Vinaigrette

1/4 Cup Lemon Juice (gotta be fresh squeezed)

1 T Sugar (to cut tartness)

2 Cloves Garlic

1/8 Cup Parsley Leaves

1/8 Cup Lemon Thyme

Zest of 1 Lemon

1/3 Cup Feta Cheese

1/2 Cup EVOO

Blend.  Add S&P to taste.

Advantage...Pig!

So a while back I quickly threw up my top 5 fave sangwiches.  I am now remiss that I didn't more clearly explain my thoughts to myself then, and have since given the context of my choices much more reflection than I should.  Huh?

Sure...I went in for the the sandwiches that, on that particular day, I was wanting.  And, granted, they were good calls.  But the best sandwich - I mean really the best sandwich -  has gotta have a porcine element to it.  It's kinda like playing tennis with someone better than you.  It's elevates your game (read: sammy) to a higher level.  Without pig, you may have a good sandwich.  This is true.  But I guaran-f-ing-tee that you add swine and that wonderful creation goes from 'this is good' to just shy of 'get back or I'll kill you'.

Pork, much like Feta Cheese (but surely more-so), just makes savory things better.  Hell, I reckon pork would make sweet things better, too, but I don't eat sweets, so I'm gonna have to leave that up to discussion by someone else.

Getting back to the program, maybe it's the saltiness.  Nah, that can't be it.  Just adding salt to something doesn't achieve the same affect.  

Maybe it's the unctuousness.  Perhaps, but lean loin is pretty GD tasty.   

Maybe it's something really cool that I don't even know about.  

Yes, Frank Ricard, indeed it must be.  If ignorance is bliss, then ignorance + bacon = shangri-f-ing-la.

As I move forward, I will be mindful of my deductive surmises that have illustrated nothing.  Nothing that didn't already know.  Porc is the best thing going.  Everything else is simply battling for second place.

Meat, Cheese, Bread, Perfection.

Tired, stressed, hungry and a little bummed. This sums up my attitude last Thursday night.

Tired, as I had been up since 3am, driving to and from Fresno, CA where I was tasting our newest pasta sauce production.

Stressed, as I had just approved 12,000 jars of sauce to be run, and wasn't sure that the tastes were exactly what I wanted.

Hungry, as I had foregone eating anything substantial 1.) to help keep my palate intact, 2.) because I simply ran out of time.

A little bummed, as I was 30 minute away from my reservation at the French Laundry, knowing full-well that I was likely going to devour anything that made its way onto my table. This was not going to be me carefully tasting the delicate and thoughtful expressions that are a cornerstone of the restaurant. Instead, this was going to go down a la the 'I just took a huge bong rip and now I can't cram this shit into my pie hole fast enough' approach.

Enter my wife, to save the day, with a baguette, prosciutto and pepper jack cheese. No condiments. Basic.

The take-away was 2-fold.

1.) My wife is the best, coolest, most rad person that I have ever met, and I feel like the luckiest person alive to have her in my life. Being more tired than I, she - without a moment's hesitation - was gone and back with a simple solution to the problem.

2.) Less can be more.

Without the addition (perhaps distraction?) of flavors typically provided by mustards, dressings, sauces, vegetables, etc. I was able to focus on the 3 ingredients. Bread, ham and cheese. Balance was found. This sandwich was perfection at that time. Often times I find myself so embellishing the hell out of sandwiches, that I lose sight of why they can be great. Simplicity, of course, is the answer.

Although not always right for every situation, I will definitely be more inclined to simplify things if this is the end result. I just need to continue to remind myself to do this. Just use the simplest, freshest and best ingredients. Let the food do the work.

Hmmm...seems like I've heard that somewhere before.

Caribbean Aioli Recipe

1/4 cup lime juice

1/8 cup white wine vinegar

2 t kosher salt

6 T garlic, minced*

6 fresh habanero peppers, minced (less chile is OK, but less chile = less heat & less fruit note)

6 peppercorns, crushed

1 tsp fresh thyme

1/2 cup EVOO

Whisk first 7 items together.  Once well blended, slowly add EVOO while whisking.  Garlic is a natural emulsifier, so it will take, but your arm(s) might get tired.  Resist the urge to add egg or mustard.  (If you want to get sleezy, use a blender on low speed.)  Taste.  Correct the salt content, as needed.  Refrigerate.

*Fresh garlic is going to taste different than the jarred stuff.  It will be a milder flavor that will grow over time.  It most likely, however, will not ever reach the amplified mega-garlic flavor of the jarred stuff, as that usually has citric acid to help preserve it.  Citric acid sharpens tastes.  Depending on the application, I vary between fresh and jarred.

Current Top 5

Current Top 5:

1.) Cuban

2.) Meatball Parmagianna

3.) Italian Grinder

4.) Club

5.) Grilled Cheese

Gwarn mek it bun...

There is a lot that I have learned from reggae music.  And, seemingly, the lessons continue to be taught.  Last week, I was at the Good Life Market in Bernal Heights picking up my usual lunch..a Semifreddi sourdough baguette, 1/2# Black Forest ham and marinated olives.  

As the slidey-on-slidey sandwich architecture hurdle is always at the forefront of my consciousness (see 4/17 post), I am forIver looking for a the perfect roll/loaf to become my right-hand-man sangwich vessel.  I've tried the Italian country loaf (good, but too bready...needs a proper slicer), the herb slab (good, but not for every sammy), and the sourdough round loaf (good, but unweildy...also has inherent problem of two slices not being the same size creating this weird pyramid-base sandwich type of thing).  But the one roll that I have not been working with, for no other reason than it was a selling point of a Jack-In-The-Box campaign a few years back (fast food is soulless, but that its for another rant altogether), is the what looks to become the grand champion...the Ciabatta roll.   Mind you, I've worked with the Ciabatta loaf with good - but not great - results.  But the roll....now I'm onto something.  Something that apparently I should have been more interested in searching out earlier.  Crunchy outside...check.  Soft inside (good for soaking up dressing...and, when paired with crunchy outside, helps to avoid sogginess)...check.  Slightly domed shape with flat bottom (good shape for getting your mitts around)...check.  Can be slightly hollowed out to help mitigate slidey-on-slidey...check.  Can stand up to a panini press...check.

On first blush, it would seem that this Ligurian gift to the sammich maker is without flaw.  I'm not sure, but will be working with it in an attempt to see what comes back.  Getting back to my opening comment...I have a good feeling that this is another lesson that reggae has taught me.... 

The stone that dem builder refuse will always be the head conerstone.

Reports from the sandwich board will be posted as they filter in.

Mediterranean Tuna Sandwich

A good, light sandwich for a hot day.  Super refreshing, it's packed with flavor and protein.

1 piece Lavash bread

1 can Italian yellow fin tuna in EVOO

1 Meyer lemon

2 T lemon juice

cucumber

pitted olives

red onion

hummus

salt

pepper

Lay the Lavash flat on the sandwich board. Cut the Meyer lemon in half and extract as many seeds as possible, without damaging the fruit's shape.  Using a slicer or mandolin, thinly slice the lemon into rounds.  If the are too thin  and are breaking in the slice, that is OK.  Too thick is not OK. 

Gently press-drain EVOO from tuna.  In a mixing bowl, combine tuna (with any residual EVOO) and lemon juice, along with salt and pepper.

Using a slicer or mandolin, thinly slice cucumber and red pepper.  I haven't offered amounts, because I usually cut them to my liking based on how I am feeling that day.

Olives are going to offer a nice, briny compliment to the fish.  Kalamata olives would make sense here.  Good spanish olives would work, too.  I use large green garlic-brined olives that Lucca deli (22nd/Valencia)* sells.  If you are in SF, it's a good old-school deli to check out.  Loads of great food stuffs.

Looking at the Lavash like a rectangle in front of you, oriented as a wide rectangle (vs. a long rectangle). You will only include ingredients on the right hand side.  From top to bottom lay out your lemon slices.  On top of those, add your tuna.  On the sides of the tuna, add the olives.  Add onion slices and cucumber.  On the left half of the Lavash, spread hummus, leaving a 1/2" border.

Turn the Lavash a 1/4 turn clockwise.  This reorients the Lavash as a long rectangle.  The side with the ingredients should be closest to you, while the side with the hummus is furthest away.   Roll the Lavash away from you, as tightly as you can without breaking it  The hummus will help the bread to adhere to itself.  The 1/2" border allows for the hummus to spread a bit, without causing a mess.

Slice in half.  Eat.

*FYI - There are multiple Lucca delis in the city, and I've been told that they are not necessarily related.  22nd/Valencia is specifically the one that I am referring to.

No Phony Baloney

Baloney is good. Good and trashy.

Kosher baloney...a bit better.

Mortadella, though, now you've got something.

It's kind of like the English/Scottish/Irish/Ozzie ability to make an inappropriate/offensive/crass statement sound nothing short of charming. Italians can do this exact thing, too, as it relates to baloney (among other things). Mortadella, a deli meat/cold cut that was originally made by grinding ingredients to a paste with a mortar and pestle (hence the name) and then reformed into a sausage, is something bordering on perfection. I've had the opportunity to eat good mortadella in two separate occasions within the last week. Once at La Ciccia (30th/Church) as part of the salumi platter, and again on a sandwich with cuts that I had picked up at Lucca (22nd/Valencia) prior to hitting Dolores Park. Very good stuff without the stigma of the red-ringed WTF that paired so well with yellow mustard and white bread during my childhood. Mortadella can stand up to the tastiest prosciutto, copa or salami in reputation, as well as taste.

Don't get me wrong. I'm trashy. I like baloney. But, in those instance where I need to put on the appearance that I wouldn't...

1.) drink a tallboy can of Bud

2.) in a Smokey and The Bandit-era Trans-Am

3.) in cut-off jean shorts

4.) while listening to Molly Hatchet

5.) on a Tuesday at 2pm

6.) at the drop of a hat, given the chance...

...I now have my go to.

From Haiku to Vinaigrette

So, last weekend, I got some great blood oranges at the farmer's market. I love the blood orange. A cross section is about as beautiful a fruit, save for a papaya with seeds, as you may ever find. That, however, is a line of thought for another time. A fruit beauty pageant. Hell yes. But back to what I was talking about.

Blood oranges. I had one on Wednesday that so took me, I had to write a poem about it. A haiku, because that has rules that help me to focus. 5/7/5*. And, because my free form poetry sucks.

Blood orange you are

Spring's sweet tart easily peeled

Stained hands remember

It got me thinking. Citrus vinagrettes have always been popular. Citrus as acid instead of vinegar as acid, coupled with oil, is not ground breaking. Blood orange vinaigrette...again, not ground breaking. That said, it did move me...into to the kitchen.

2T blood orange juice

1 clove garlic, minced

1 t shallot, minced

1/4 t mustard flour

Salt

Pepper

Whisk these together. Once mustard flour has dissolved, slowly add 1/4 cup canola oil, whisking the whole time. Why canola? No flavor to mask the orange/garlic/mustard notes.

Use on nicoise sandwich, tuna sammy, as olive marinade.

* I have oversimplified the haiku. Not out of disrespect or apathy for its cultural importance. More-so because I'm not really sure that anyone reading this cares. In fact, I'm not sure if anyone is actually reading this. If you are, and you care, please accept my apology.

Slidey on Slidey

I did it again. I know better, but I always end up cracking under the pressure. It's like I get so excited about the sandwich that I forget my past transgressions against myself. Much like how I feel each time I quit quitting smoking. I know better, but...

Slidey on slidey. Why? Do I oversimplify? Maybe. Bread, stuff, bread. Simple, right? No.

No ham on avocado on cucumber on tomato. What can I tell you about that combo? You may as well put it in a slingshot, because that's going to shoot out of the bread the minute that the most delicate pressure is put on it. Not good.

A hierarchy of materials, based on their slidey or non-slidey qualifications, is needed. I'll begin work soon.

Until then, maybe I should have my palms tattooed. [Slidey O] [n Slidey]. Maybe a post-it near the sandwich board is better.