The Noble Sandwich

 

When I was growing up, sandwiches were for lunch, never dinner. And were, according to my father’s rules about table manners, the only food you picked up with your hands (we never, ever had fried chicken). But today, my family enjoys a good hearty sandwich for supper. And with summer coming, we’re looking for lighter meals. We may be fooling ourselves about lightness, but it’s a change from casseroles or meat and potatoes.  Here are some of our favorites—note that these are what I call knife-and-fork sandwiches and wouldn’t be good picnic fare. I have excluded a Dagwood because it’s complicated, and I think I’ve shared it before. These suggestions are all for one sandwich.

The Colonial Open-Faced Sandwich

I think this is pretty universal, but I always associate it with Colonial Country Club because that’s where I first ate it more years ago than I care to remember. I haven’t been there for quite some time, but last I knew it wasn’t on the menu, but you could ask for it.

Ingredients:

1 slice rye bread

Sliced ham

Sliced turkey

Sliced Swiss cheese

Thousand Island dressing

Sliced hard-boiled egg.

Layer ingredients in the order listed. Whether to toast the bread or not, is up to you. At Colonial, it’s served with a pickle spear and cole slaw.

Sub sandwich Alter/Burton style

This is a copy of our favorite sandwich at a local chain. We vary the ingredients to suit each person’s taste.

Ingredients:

Hoagie roll coated with mayonnaise, mustard, Thousand Island dressing, ketchup, whatever you want. I prefer mayonnaise.

Meat – your choice. Jordan, Christian and Jacob like turkey and pastrami; I prefer ham and capricola or mortadella; you can sub deli roast beef, roast lamb, salami, whatever you want.

Cheese – we generally use provolone, but you can use Swiss, cheddar, etc.

Shredded lettuce

Chopped tomato (except for Christian)

Splash of red wine vinegar

Scattering of dried oregano

Parmesan

Layer it in the order given

The Marshall Field Sandwich

Growing up in Chicago, Marshall Field and company was a magic place. I’m pretty sure I ate this sandwich in their restaurant called The Verandah. I was delighted to come across it recently.

Ingredients:

Thousand Island dressing

2 Tbsp. butter

One slice rye bread

Shredded iceberg lettuce

2 slices Swiss cheese

3 slices deli turkey breast

1 slice tomato

Pitted black olives (I omit because olives and I are not friends)

Sliced hard-boiled egg

8 slices bacon

Butter the bread and then layer ingredients as listed through turkey breast. Cover with Thousand Island dressing

Use tomato, egg, olive (speared on a toothpick) and bacon as garnish

Roast beef sandwich

This has a more descriptive name, but I can’t remember it and can’t find the recipe.

1 slice rye bread (you can easily make this a regular sandwich with two slices bread or a hamburger bun; we found the recommended brioche bun was too much bread.

A couple slices deli roast beef (lamb would be good, if you like it)

One or two slices cheddar

Sliced tomato

Thousand Island dressing

Sauteed shallots – I keep quick-pickled red onion in the fridge and found them tastier than the shallots. But to sauté shallots, slice very thin. Spread olive oil in skillet and put sliced shallots in cold skillet. Raise heat to medium high and cook, stirring frequently, until they are browned and caramelized. They burn quickly, so don’t step away from the skillet. Drain on paper towels before using to garnish sandwich.

Quick pickled red onion

Slice one red onion thinly, making uniform slices if you can. Pack into a glass jar. In a small pan, heat 1 cup white vinegar, 1 cup water, 2 Tbsp. sea salt and 1 Tbsp. sugar (you might increase sugar, depending on your taste). Heat until sugar and salt are melted. Cool slightly and pour over sliced onion. Let sit uncovered until room temperature. Then add cover to the jar and refrigerate. Will keep in fridge for some time.

Thousand Island dressing

These sandwiches call for Thousand Island, and I never ever buy commercially prepared. You do you, but here’s a basic recipe:

1 cup mayonnaise

2 tsp. Dijon mustard

1 tsp. apple cider vinegar

½ tsp sugar

2 Tbsp.  chili sauce

2Tbsp. pickle relish

1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

1 hard-boiled egg, minced

Salt and pepper to taste

Spring is salad time

Panzanella

With flowers blooming and trees leafing out, days growing longer, and weather warming, my mind turns to lighter foods. Much as I love them, I pretty much put stew and casserole recipes aside to wait for next winter. Salads are high on my menus. In the household of my childhood, we had a green salad with homemade vinaigrette almost every night. Fortunately, my family likes salads. I always have leaf lettuce on hand for a quick salad to round out a meal, but lately I’ve noticed that we aren’t eating as many green salads. On the contrary, we’ve enjoyed several no-lettuce salads. Here are two of my favorites (note that you have to prepare some ingredients in each well ahead of time):

Pea salad

This is strictly an adult discovery for me, not something I grew up eating. I first found it at the deli counter of local grocery stores, but I soon learned that making my own was better. Commercial versions have bacon bits which I consider a discordant taste, and the cheese was often small chunks of processed cheese like Velveeta. So I adapted the recipe to my tastes, specifically adding hard-boiled eggs. With cheese, eggs, and peas, this can qualify as a light lunch that hits the major food groups.

Ingredients

1 lb. frozen peas (petite are best)

½ small red onion, sliced

3 hard-boiled eggs, chopped

½ small bunch parsley

2 oz. sharp cheddar, grated

¼ cup sour cream

¼ cup mayonnaise

1 Tbsp. apple cider vinegar

1 tsp. Worcestershire

1/4 tsp, each salt and pepper

Directions:

Let peas thaw on counter for about three hours.

Put sour cream, mayonnaise, vinegar, and Worcestershire in large bowl. Add remaining ingredients. Stir thoroughly to be sure all ingredients are coated with dressing. Chill at least four hours before serving.

If you want to add bacon, I would suggest frying 6 slices; drain and crumble into salad just before serving.

Panzanella (or Italian bread) salad

This is another one I’ve only discovered in recent years. It speaks to my love of croutons that soak up a good vinaigrette. The recipe I have serves 10-12, way beyond any entertaining I can do in the cottage. I have halved it here.

Ingredients

4-5 cups cubed artisan bread

4 cups (one large or two medium) heirloom tomatoes, chopped

1/3 cucumber, sliced

½ medium red or yellow bell pepper, cut in bite-sized pieces (I omit this—bell pepper and I are not friends)

½ small red onion, thinly sliced

¼ cup good olive oil

1/8 cup red wine vinegar

1/4  tsp. salt

Pepper to taste

1 tsp. dried basil or ½ cup thinly sliced fresh basil

Directions:

Spread bread cubes in a single layer on a cookie sheet and let sit on counter, uncovered, overnight to dry and harden. Or, you can bake them at 300^o F. for 15 lor 20 minutes, stirring a couple of times.

Chop the vegetables, An extra trick: soak onion rings in cold water for ten minutes to soften their bite.

Combine bread and vegetables in a large bowl, preferably non-reactive like glass. Pour vinaigrette (oil, vinegar, salt and pepper) over mixture. Be sure to mix thoroughly.

Let salad stand at room temperature anywhere from half an hour to four hours, stirring occasionally. Add basil just before serving.

Leftovers do not keep well.

I’ll be keeping an eye out for other salads for your spiring enjoyment. Happy eating!

 

 

An old-fashioned breakfast that makes a great dinner

 

Picture courtesy Freepik.com

Today’s recipe, Farmer’s Breakfast, is a memory from my mom’s kitchen. As many of you know, I’m slowly putting together a cookbook of food we ate in the fifties (my teen years), and I’ll call it, I think, Mom and Me in the Kitchen. It turns out so far to be a whole lot of recipes from my mom and, in truth, a tribute to her. So a bit about Mom is maybe appropriate.

Alice Marie Peterman Peckham MacBain was born in Kankakee, Illinois, in 1900. Grandpa Peterman was an engineer on the Illinois Central line and Granny (Anna) was a housewife. The couple were first generation Germans. Mom never talked about her childhood much, but I gather the food was heavily influenced by German dishes. I know she loved sausages and hated sauerkraut. I think today’s recipe traces back to her childhood. I can easily imagine Granny Peterman cooking it, though by the time I knew her Granny did little but sit in a chair.

Mom lived through the Spanish Flu epidemic, two world wars, and the Depression. The Great Depression left an indelible mark on her. I never heard her mention what life was like in those years. But when I was with her in the kitchen, I saw the clear signs. We saved bits of string, tied into one huge ball; bits of foil, rolled into a ball for the war effort in the Forties though I have no idea where or how she delivered these treasures.  We massaged color pills into blocks of—lard, I guess. It was white, and those little red pills were supposed to turn it the color of butter so we would be fooled. In her new 1950s kitchen, Mom had a special space for storing used paper towels—she would wipe a counter with a clean towel and then stash it; next time there was a floor spill, she pulled out that once-used towel. She countenanced no waste: when I had my own home, feeding a family of six, I didn’t save tiny bits of leftovers—it was pointless (until I learned to make soup). Scraps wouldn’t feed all of us, but when visiting Mom would say sarcastically, “I know. Just pitch it.” In her last years, when we moved her out of her house, we found tiny baby food jars in the back of the refrigerator with who knows what—whatever it was, much of it had begun to mold. I am, by contrast, not a frugal cook but sort of living alone, I save leftovers for lunch and hate to see food wasted. Mom’s saving ways definitely have had an effect on me.

Soup of the week illustrates Mom’s frugality. She put those saved leftovers to good by using them in what I came to call soup of the week. A dab of this, a bit of that meat, a few spoonfuls of a casserole, some fresh vegetables—it all went into the soup pot, perhaps augmented with chicken broth or canned tomatoes. I used to do that for my kids. Even though it almost always turned a muddy brown in color, they liked it.

Mom had a lot of sadness in her life, but she kept a positive outlook on life. Through the death of one husband, the loss of an infant of six months, the prolonged death of her sister due to cancer, Mom mostly kept a wonderful sense of humor. I can still see her telling stories of when all the aunts and uncles were young—tears of laughter would roll down her cheeks as she told those stories. And I have my own stories of Mom’s laughter in the kitchen—it is probably my best memory of her.

One of the frugal dishes I remember was what she called farmer’s breakfast. Mom fried some bacon, then fried potatoes in the grease. She added sliced green onions and grated cheddar cheese and then stirred up some eggs and poured them over the mixture. Once the eggs solidified and held together, she served it. I loved it, and when it came my turn and I served it to my children, they too loved it. What’s not to like? I somehow forgot all about it until a recent email from America’s Test Kitchen (one of my favorite sources) featured Bauernfrühstück (German Farmer’s Breakfast). There it was—Mom’s dish. So, here’s my adaptation of the recipe, a blend of my memories of Mom and the amounts recommended by America’s Test Kitchn (not all ingredients are the same):

Farmer’s Breakfast (serves four)

Ingredients

4 slices bacon

Four green onions, chopped

2 llbs. Yukon Gold potatoes

1 cup cheddar, grated

6 eggs, beaten

½ tsp. salt

¼ tsp. pepper

Ketchup

2 Tbsp. butter, if needed

Directions

Fry the bacon until crisp. Removed from skillet and drain on paper towels.

Peel the potatoes or not—Yukon gold have such thin skins. I’m sure, however, when I was a teen, we never heard of Yukon gold and Mom used good old Russet or Idaho potatoes which she would have scrubbed and peeled. Dice the potatoes (you might want to sprinkle an extra bit of salt on them) and fry in the bacon grease, getting as good a crisp crust as you can. IF there is not enough grease, add a Tbsp. of butter. Stir in green onions and sauté briefly. Stir in grated cheese.

Separately add salt and pepper to eggs and beat until well blended. Over medium heat, stir eggs into potato mixture, stirring to make sure the eggs are well incorporated. While they eggs cook occasionally use a spatula to lift up the mixture and let uncooked eggs run under it where they will cook. When eggs solidify to the point you want (don’t get them too hard), crumble the bacon in and stir again. Serve hot immediately with optional ketchup.

This is like spoon-feeding your family cholesterol, and I recognize it’s not a dish any of us should eat often. But sometimes, it’s just perfect. A few of our neighbors occasionally get together for an event we call “Brinner” (breakfast as dinner). The next time we do, this is what I’ll bring.

 

 

 

 

 

Calf fries and sauerkraut soup

 

Before I ask how you weigh in on either of these dishes, let me give you a bit of history: About 1912, a young immigrant arrived in New York from Macedonia (a country now gone that was in the Balkans). By the 1920s, Theo Yordanoff had opened a “hole in the wall” restaurant on Exchange Avenue in Fort Worth, close to the packing houses. When a customer asked for calf fries, which were not on the menu, Yordanoff did some investigating and found that the packing houses would give him, at no cost, all the calf testicles he wanted. He battered them like chicken-fried steak, served them with cream gravy, and his restaurant immediately became part of Fort Worth history.

Confession: I have never eaten calf fries. I have eaten turkey fries and enjoyed them—obviously much smaller. But neither one are what I remember about the Saddle and Sirloin. I went there a few times in the Seventies and Eighties, before it closed, and had the sauerkraut soup, called kapusta. Loved it. Today, Riscky’s Steakhouse has replaced the Saddle and Sirloin, but they still serve calf fries and kapusta.

My history with sauerkraut: I never tasted it until I was grown and away from home. My mother was of German ancestry and apparently had to eat sauerkraut as a child. She despised it but loved German sausages. In my twenties, my brother was married to a woman who caramelized kraut in a skillet, slowly and patiently cooking it with butter and sugar. It was delicious. Since then, I’ve learned to love kraut on hot dogs, sauteed kraut with onions and wine, Reuben sandwiches, kraut almost any way you can fix it.

My friend Mary V. comes for dinner every two or three weeks, and bless her, she eats whatever my experimental dish of the day is. So one day I asked if she liked kraut, and she replied that she loved it. I fixed something with kraut (now I can’t remember what) and had a lot left over. So I decided that next time she came for supper, I’d fix sauerkraut soup. I studied online recipes for kapusta but didn’t find any that sounded just right. Most didn’t have the tomatoes that I remembered. So I printed off a basic recipe and decided to take off on my own. I’m not a chef who writes recipes, but I do often adapt. In this case, I adapted both quantity (I aimed for two servings, ended up with three or four) and taste. Here’s what I did:

Sauerkraut soup

Ingredients:

1 Tbsp, vegetable oil

1 small onion, diced

½ lb. ground beef

8 oz. sauerkraut, drained and rinsed

½ cup white wine

1 cup beef broth

1 14 oz. can diced tomatoes, undrained

Salt and pepper to taste

½ tsp. sugar

Sour cream for garnish

Brown onion in oil until soft and translucent. Add meat, breaking up into crumbles. Brown and drain if needed. Add remaining ingredients except sour cream. Bring to a boil and simmer, covered, for 45 minutes to an hour.

Serve hot in soup plates with a dollop of sour cream. Rye bread is a nice accompaniment.

Jo étvágyat