They say bad things happen in threes and this summer I seem to have reached my quota. First there was my pain in the neck, then a bout of poison oak. I figured that whatever karma had caught up with me, I was now in the clear. But then while photographing these sandwiches the other day, I toppled off a step stool and landed in the ER with three stitches in my knee.
I've never before had neck pain last more than a day, and before this month, I hadn't experienced the itchy wonders of poison oak. Falling off of stepladders is not a summer activity in which I usually partake, either. Clearly this is all a sign that I need to stay indoors on the couch watching Britcoms, drinking aperol spritz floats, and eating sandwiches until Labor Day.
After the fall, during which I screamed bloody murder for about 5 minutes (I am not a graceful patient), Jay cleaned me up, plopped me on the couch with several ice packs, turned the laptop to face me, and finished shooting these sandwiches. What a nice guy, right? When the pain didn't stop, we packed up the sandwiches and headed to the ER. The nurse asked if I had hit my head during the fall to which Jay responded, "She screamed. A lot. She was definitely not unconscious," which caused the entire staff to laugh uproariously.
Due to the bodily harm they caused, I should hate these sandwiches if only they weren't so tasty. As it is, we've been making them daily for our lunch. The idea came from a couple of different dining experiences. The first occurred at a restaurant that is usually quite excellent. I ordered a green goddess salad, excited for the little gems, radishes, avocado, red onion, and herbed vinaigrette promised by the menu. What I actually got were some chewed up outer leaves from a romaine head, rock-hard avocado chunks, and what tasted like a watered-down buttermilk dressing. I asked the server if I had perhaps been given the wrong salad, and she said, "No, that's it." The experience left me craving a proper green goddess coated in a nap of potent dressing.
The second source of inspiration was a simple vegetarian sandwich that Jay ordered from a cafe in our neighborhood that's been around for ages. Sourdough bread, avocado, sprouts, cheese, tomatoes, and a slather of tasty aïoli, it was essentially a salad between two pieces of bread – tangy and cool.
This sandwich starts by blending good mayonnaise with garlic, anchovies, lemon, and a mess of herbs: basil, tarragon, and chives being my favored combination. This gets slathered on some bread (preferably a hearty sourdough) and topped with all the green things: thin slices of cucumber, green zebra tomatoes, avocado, sprouts, and lettuce. For protein and ooey-gooiness we add fresh mozzarella, and for extra pungence, some quickly-pickled spring onions.
Thus the sandwiches of our dreams: messy, bright, and ultra-flavorful. Hopefully they will cause no more debacles; I'm very carefully crossing my fingers...
Sandwiches, sweet and savory:
Zucchini Cilantro Soup with Chile and Mint