Courtesy of Viet-Nam Banh Mi So 1 . Review pending. Initial thoughts: delicious. Heavy on the pork and cilantro but no problems there. Ordered it "spicy" but it only had a slight kick. Overall: excellent sandy.
This is the by-product of a long subway ride with nothing interesting to read. " Double down or hit me?" When meat supplants bread And sandies' order's denied Is anyone safe? " What would Plato eat ?" Sandwich perfection Which is better: less or more? Consider Katz's "Tomato sandwich" Minimalism Seasonal fruits sliced, piled high Let their taste shine through " Banh mi " Radishes that mock Our lunch monoculture Ban me from turkey " Free break room sandwich " Where did it come from? Sandwich wizards suspected Thanks, mundane Merlin! " Mayo vs. mustard" Creamy or spicy? Dijon, stone ground reign, but still Not an easy choice
It's What's Between founding member Michael alerted me to the KFC Double Down, as reported by Food Geekery , who kindly supplied this photo. Make no mistake, this is the third horse of the sandwipocolypse, the first two being The Sandwich of Knowledge . What is it? It's two pieces of fried chicken, two kinds of cheese, bacon and the ominous "Colonel's Sauce." What about the bun, you ask? The fried chicken IS THE BUN. Playing devil's advocate , yes, the fried chicken is breaded, making it bun-like . Is bun-like good enough, though? No it is not. This is a mutant, and not in the next evolution of sandwiches sense. This ... thing ... must be destroyed . This is unnatural. This is wrong. Dammit, I must slay this unholy beast by going to KFC and eating it dead. This is my lot as a sandwich blogger, and a self-destructive one at that. I will eat it, or die trying, or eat it and then die later of related causes.
Sandwich aficionado Stu told me about a Spanish sandwich called the flauta d’ibéric d.o. jabugo, which New York Times food writer Mark Bittman said was the best he’d ever had . I recommend reading Bittman’s article for context here. En route to Spain for the running of the bulls, Stu visited Café Vienna in person to try this special sandwich. He was also good enough to share his thoughts on the sandy’s spot in the search for sandwich perfection and weighed in on the less vs. more debate. In Stu’s words: As far as sandwiches go, the Spanish believe that less is more. Most of the bocadillos we came across were simply meat and bread. Some had a thin layer of tomato spread across the bread in the same fashion you would spread butter and some had a light drizzle of olive oil. They are all about their meat, and pork dominates. You see legs of Jamon Iberico hanging everywhere. It felt like the Spanish treat the sandwich as more of a snack than a meal, and that could be a big reason for
I've always preferred gray areas, so I've never had much use for the idea of perfection. But lately I've been seeing and hearing a lot of claims about the perfect sandwich. I hadn't thought much about the perfect Ideal since Philosophy 101 until now. If there is an Ideal sandwich? How could that be possible with everyone's subjective taste? After thinking far too much about this problem, I narrowed down the question. It's this: Is less more, or is more? In other words, which would make a better sandwich: one with the best meat, the best cheese, the best bread and a touch of the best mustard, or one with four of the best meats, two of the best cheeses, your five favorite veggies and your two preferred spreads? A perfect grilled cheese or a perfect Dagwood? Along with my sandwich associates, I've been exploring this question over the past month. The search for Truth has thus far been confined to Brooklyn and Barcelona, but it extends much further in the