If You Give a Girl a Steak

She will want to steep some rosemary in olive oil. And is she makes a little rosemary oil, a charred lemon or two will follow.

Voraciously sub food brand 02/2019Photo by Tom McCorkle for the Washington Post (styling by moi!)

If she goes to the trouble to make rosemary oil and charred lemons she will certainly pull out the nice salt. And if she pulls out the nice salt she will want a good piece of bread.

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Photo by Helen Norman for Bakery de France  (styling by moi!)

And on that bread, she will stack slices of steak, drizzles of rosemary oil, squirts of warm lemon juice and a shower of salt. Any girl with a good steak will want to make a sandwich. Indeed she will, any girl worth her weight in salt. Mais oui, sir! Mais oui!

Annnnd, as promised, the Slow Roasted Steak recipe from Becky Krystal at Voraciously. This preparation is a wonder.

 

Chew This Book

Do you have this book? You must!

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National Museum for Women in the Arts Shop

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Sammys is a project that exists at the intersection of food and identity. We have been investigating and documenting the sandwich consumption of many people from diverse backgrounds, careers, and identities. The purpose of this project is to show a parallel representation of who we are by what we eat.

Food is—and has always been—a vehicle to unite people, to overcome differences, and to share cultures and customs. We hope to intersect identities that may have nothing in common if not for a favorite sandwich.

Adriana Monsalve, co-founder of Homie House Press and co-creator of Sammys

Pan Haus = Whole Hog

Loosey, not goosey. Loosey porky. On the menu was pan haus. On the web is pannhaas, panhoss, ponhoss, and pannhas. Translated literally to pan rabbit. Rabbits are so cute and they do taste good in a pan (forgive me). Mush it is, mush fried till crisp. No one thinks mush is cute and no one likes the word, but mush it is and perhaps we can reframe it. Mush. Say it five times when you are hungry and it begins to tantalize.

A Pennsylvania Dutch dish, pan haus is a “whole animal” affair, very au courant, and while it is typically served on the plate, as is, I think it would be terrific in a sandwich. With raw onion. And crisp lettuce. On pumpernickle. Mais oui oui! Oink oink!

PonHausFourth brown thing down is pan haus which, come to find out, is scrapple. I ordered it because I did not know what it was. With gladness did my heart leap when it arrived, brown, crispy and distinctly porky with that livery/offal edge.  The bf says it could have been more crispy and he was right. Minor detail and easily correctable though. Geez, it takes balls to put this stuff on a menu and I applaud you, Betty’s in Sheperdstown, WV, with my greasy mitts.

Not all agree that pan haus and scrapple are identical. The thing is, not all scrapples are identical, nor pan haus. They have yet to be corporatized, diminished into one formula. Variations proliferate. Hooray.

Betty’s seemed to have bread in it, in addition to corn meal and, frankly, very little actual pieces of meat, if any. The texture was soft, with no discernible corn meal crunch nor, according to the bf, a strong meat taste. I tasted liver and pork, although it was subtle. All for the best first thing in the a.m.

Recipes available online are limitless and they vary, as any decent dish does, according to the cook. Adding a splash of cider vinegar to the pork scraps while they simmer seems wise. Dashes of herbs and spices – savory, thyme, cloves, allspice – appeals.

In the words of Teri’s Kitchen To best describe scrapple, it is something like a meaty fried polenta, cornmeal to which seasonings and relatively lean cooked meat, usually pork, have been added. The cooked mixture is poured into loaf pans and refrigerated overnight to stiffen. Then it is sliced and fried in a little butter, oil or bacon grease. Scrapple recipes can vary greatly in ingredients, seasonings and methodology. In some versions, the tongue, liver and/or kidneys are used, just as they were in the original scrapple recipes, which were created to eliminate waste and use as much of the butchered animal as possible. Other recipes incorporate buckwheat or regular flour in addition to the cornmeal.

Betty’s, thank you for serving, sans irony or pretense or wide-eyed naivete, pan haus. Although, yours was so much more like rabbit in a pan than scrapple has ever been. Yours was unctuous and velvety, opulent in its frugality, subtle as is stewed rabbit.

And what does pan haus have to do with a sandwich, you ask. Well, some of the pumpernickel and pan haus, eggs and sausage gravy went home with me. Picture this, what a sandwich! Toasted bread hot mush salty gravy silken eggs. The stuff of which earthly, animally dreams are made.

New to me, pan haus, thankfully unseen previously on the webbity webb. Ribbity rabbity porky pan rabbit, right there to be discovered.

 

Enjoy Every Sandwich. On National Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day and Every Day.

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The day I write a list of bests is the day the world turns so slowly we are given a thousand hours between sunrise and sunset. Bests, bests, bests. The best sandwich is the last sandwich eaten. So very many sandwiches, and more inking up the papers every minute.

Thank you, Look-Out-Tina-Brown-Amanda for linking me to the non-inking pages of  Food and Wine’s Best Sandwiches in the U.S.  Thank mana they did not stretch their greasy hands worldwide. It would all just be too much.

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Just around the corner from the the cozy digs of the Lunch Encounter, this Muff-A-Lotta from David Guas’ Bayou Bakery in Arlington, Virginia tops the list. Number one of twenty! Hooray for you, David, and your divine sandwich.

A barrage of familiars, astonishingly non-trendy, the list is a comforting collection of sandwich spots that have been known to deliver sybaritic sighs from those of who have not leapt off the carb wagon. I remain an attached rider, my knees hanging tight to bread, no thank you Jack Nicholson, j’adore un sandwich.

Wishing all a notable Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day, this year and all years. Take each bite with note.

the best thing she ever ate. yet.

She will eat one, Fanny she is. She will eat one with a mouse. She will eat one in a house. She will eat one on a wall. She will eat one in a hall.

TUNE IN TONIGHT, PEOPLE!

The Sandwich Hall of Fame, no less.

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TUNE IN TONIGHT, PEOPLE!

From the Food Channel Website:
We’re honoring the all-time favorite sandwiches in the Sandwich Hall of Fame because it’s all about the bread and what’s in between! If you’ve never had a BL”G”T, Eddie Jackson will tell you where to go. Fanny Slater hasn’t missed a week without her “Friday Special,” and Katie Lee heads to a small shop in New York to get the best Italian hoagie she’s ever eaten. And Southerners don’t have to travel to Philadelphia for the best cheesesteak, as Alton Brown reveals a hidden gem in Atlanta.

TUNE IN TONIGHT, PEOPLE!

In six degress of Kevin-Bacon-Lettuce-and-Tomato-Land, Fanny Slater is the fine, fine sandwich eating niece to My-Main-Sandwich-Man-in-New-York, JAF. Kind enough to clue me in, MMSMINY, sent along the link to the Sandwich Hall of Fame episode featuring the MILBURN DELI. The MILBURN DELI. Shouting it: The MILBURN DELI. Thank you, JAF. I am righteously indebted.

TUNE IN TONIGHT, PEOPLE!

Choosing favorites has never been a happy pastime for me. Do I hafta? No, I do not. Neither do you. So…remember that the Milburn blasts the New Jersey Joe into the universe of STELLAR SANDWICHES. (The Joe with, uh, meat, not tuna. Got it?)

Why there is not a Sandwich Joint Hall of Fame, I do not know. Perhaps because the Milburn is the Sea Biscuit of sandwich joints. No one can touch ’em. Period.

REPRISAL ALERT! REPRISAL ALERT! REPRISAL ALERT! REPRISAL ALERT!

At this rate, The Lunch Encounter will become LRoy’s Lunch Encounter. Deservedly. He’s taking a mess o’ Joe’s for the team. Poor thing. Not.

So, this is where we separate the true believers from the “can I have mine on toast with no mayo please.”

If you’re a religious reader of Lisa’s blog (that is, on your knees, begging for forgiveness), you’ve heard about the New Jersey Sloppy Joe before (all hail the Milburn Deli). Not a mess of ground beef and tomato sauce, but a triple-decker cold cut ‘wich. Best-man (twice!) James provided a long exegesis a ways back, but here I was this week and it was as good (and exactly he same) as my first, 45 years ago. How do they do that? Like this:
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That’s 3 thin slices of rye (buttered), your choice of ham (mine), roast beef (James’), or turkey (WTF?). Swiss. Cole slaw. Russian dressing. To die for (I’m sure some have. Plus, often served when sitting shiva. Make a note for when I pass). Ta-da:

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Rules for eating: left side first. Then the right. Save the wedge for last:

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That first bite of the wedge is better than sex (first, last, ever).

I once had two Joes in one sitting. No problem. Looking forward to doing it again. Then dying.

Know what? What? I’m driving through Jersey on Saturday and I’m gonna stop for a Joe. Life is long and I need the calories.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Take That!

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Make it on trend! And make it snappy, while you’re at it, dammit!

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Last winter, midway through my hourlong commute into Midtown Manhattan — having traversed part of Queens and all of chic north Brooklyn — I found myself reading about how a dish called a “chopped cheese,” a sort of cheese steak made with hamburger meat, had been gentrified. Once a specialty of uptown bodegas, the sandwich had caught the attention of novelty-seeking foodies: Whole Foods was selling them for twice what they cost in the Bronx, where they went for $4 and still do. Read on here.

Been a long time since I blogged and rolled. Meanwhile, many a sandwich rock has been turned by a novelty-seeking-foodie – sweet Jesus save me from the onslaught – hoping to unearth the next cool thing, to carry it into the gaze of media/social media and shine a light on it so bright that it is forever altered.

Out of it’s natural habitat, does an indigenous sandwich taste as good?

 

Chow Mein and Other Delights

Whipped cream and other delights

Happy National Sandwich Day with whipped cream on top!

The Conversation gabs about our favorite topic. Slide into a comfy Lunch Encounter booth, order yourself a snack and find your reading glasses. Sandwiches define and unite our world.

Everyone has a favorite sandwich, often prepared to an exacting degree of specification: Turkey or ham? Grilled or toasted? Mayo or mustard? White or whole wheat?

We reached out to five food historians and asked them to tell the story of a sandwich of their choosing. The responses included staples like peanut butter and jelly, as well as regional fare like New England’s chow mein sandwich.

Together, they show how the sandwiches we eat (or used to eat) do more than fill us up during our lunch breaks. In their stories are themes of immigration and globalization, of class and gender, and of resourcefulness and creativity.

Read more here.

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Thank you, Mr. Levy, for the sandwichy linkage on this noteworthy day.