SandWHICH?

The B.L.T. is a topic near and dear to my heart. I've always enjoyed the classic sandwich, but the version I ate at Atlanta's Buckhead Diner 10 years ago pushed things to another level. That meal still ranks in my personal Top 5 (and tops my 'longest waits' list).

There's a real range of B.L.T.s. Perhaps because it relies on only three ingredients, they all must pull their weight. And from iffy bacon to soggy lettuce to tasteless tomatoes, there are plenty of pitfalls. But that's not even addressing the potential for structural collapses and toothpick troubles.

But when someone nails the B.L.T., it can be so right. Plus, they're apparently a valuable hangover cure.

B.L.T.s may or may not be my next column topic, but if they are, it started today with my long overdue first visit to SANDWHICH (the co-owner's name is Hich), a Chapel Hill lunch spot that serves "Homemade sandwiches on handmade bread." I apologize for not having my camera, their logo will have to suffice.

After reading the menu beforehand, it was obvious I'd order the O.B.L.T. (the O is for outrageous). Adding avocado and jalapenos to the classic, this creation could bear a diferent adjective-- fabulous.

A few things stood out:
--The insides of the bread were toasted, preventing sogginess, but the tops were not. Novel.
--Crispy, crispy bacon. A real key for me.
--The jalapenos stole too much of the limelight for my liking.
--A healthy amount of avocado--always a plus.
--With no toothpick, it got a little sloppy, but wasn't too bad.

But for the jalapenos, I'm not sure this sandwich can be beat. We'll see...

Patty Cake

This past week I was away on a fabulously relaxing family vacation in the Turks & Caicos islands. In addition to feasting on fresh Caribbean snapper, wahoo and grouper, I sampled a staggering variety of conch dishes.

But perhaps my favorite tropical delight was an import from nearby Jamaica--patties and coco bread. I found this combination, an old college favorite, at a place called Stinson's Chinese Jamaican bakery. It was by far the best Chinese Jamaican bakery I've been to.

The patty, usually beef or chicken, is basically an empanada. Its golden, flaky exterior houses a curry-heavy meat. I enjoy the chicken more, but either one is solid. I've had veggie patties, but they taste too much like Indian pakoras for my liking.

Coco bread is a sweet, doughy roll that contains no coconut. It's so called because the bread is made to be split open like a coconut, (albeit with less effort). This Jamaican creation is heavy and eggy, not unlike a nice challah, as my breadaholic brother noted.

I was taught to wrap coco bread around the patty, but some folks find that double breading a bit odd. It's kind of like eating a corn dog wrapped in a bun. Which takes us into Taco Town territory.

Some coco breads are more patty shaped, while the ones we found clearly weren't (see below).

My lone Jamaican friend confirmed that patty enveloping is in fact done on that island, but not excessively. She likened it to super-sizing at a fast food place. I think it ups the patty from a snack to a meal.

Whether you eat them separately or together like Voltron, you need to explore patties and coco bread.

Not So Smooth

I've been on a bit of a smoothie kick lately. It's mostly because we've had raspberries that have remarkably little flavor and aren't worth eating plain. I know, I know...it's not raspberry season yet.

Because I was sick of washing the blender, I decided to try to make a smoothie without our embarassingly old appliance. The decision came out of laziness, but it was more short-sighted than anything. I had to do all that slicing and I still had dishes to wash.

I chopped and smooshed the banana, strawberries, blueberries and--yes--raspberries then dumped the mixture into tupperware at the Spoonstress' suggestion. After adding some milk and orange juice, I shook that container for all it was worth.

The frothy result was a bit lumpy for my liking. As the name suggests, you're not supposed to need to chew anything in a smoothie. You'll notice a big blueberry chunk floating in the photo to the right.

Oh well. At least I now know that I don't take my smoothies like I prefer my peanut butter: chunky.

Spork Notes: Sandwich Pal

In the latest of my recurring raves, this Spork Notes post tackles my favorite mustard: Woeber's Sandwich Pal.

Every sandwich needs a friend and this mustard is just that. Don't take that the wrong way--it's not like this mustard can be your tennis partner or running buddy. After all, it's not your pal, but your sandwich's.

But what a friend it is! Sandwich Pal is speckled and golden, with just enough of a kick to be interesting. It is course ground, but not just a bunch of mustard seeds in a jar. It remains a spreadable, squeezable mustard.

While I just call it Sandwich Pal, more specifically it is "Sweet & Spicy mustard." Ohio-based Woeber's makes many varieties, but I can only vouch for this one. When you've had perfection, why try anything else? Besides, I never had much use for cranberry horseradish. And while we're on the subject, who ever thought of merging the words 'horse' and 'radish?' [There are a two theories, both referenced here.]

Back to the mustard, it's best virtue is its versatility. It makes hot dogs happier, and, true to its name, most any sandwich is better off after meeting S.P. The mustard even makes a great dip for sweet potato fries. I can't remember ever being disappointed after adding Sandwich Pal to anything.

Don't believe me? Just click on the photo up top and look at the chef in Woeber's logo. His hand signal and satisfied smack of the lips after sampling his creation say it all. Would that guy lie to you?

Pita Parm

The Spoonstress has been working from home recently. That change has brought another welcome one: family lunchtime.

We recently had some chicken on hand from a dinner we made for guests. Because that recipe--Creamy Mac, Chicken and Cheese from Sarah Foster's Fresh Every Day cookbook--called for pulled chicken, it was in strips.

All the better for stuffing into a pita, pouring on some marinara sauce, melting cheese and topping with basil. That's just how my mind works.

The Spoonstress, though, has been enjoying this perk of working at the Forkquarters. As someone accustomed to frozen burritos at work, she's been cooing at my usual creations like this Pita Chicken Parm.

On that sandwich, I was glad that I saved a small cup of marinara sauce that came with a takeout stromboli. Thinking, 'You never know when it may come in handy,' I kept it. We may have to tell this guy; he'd be proud of that kind of utilization.

Stick a Fork in it...

...this column's done. If you haven't seen it already, here is the online version. If you'd like to get on the mailing list for new column alerts, e-mail me at the address found somewhere on this site. (Hint: it's on the bottom right).

If you've already read the column, take a look around and make yourself comfortable. You don't even have to take off your shoes.

As for me, I was about to write that I'm all mixed-out. But, I'm not sure that's even possible. Instead, I'll say: Happy Mixing!

Mix-in Matzoh?

Whew! Late last night, I finished writing my ice cream Mix-in column that should run Wednesday. Between that, and celebrating the beginning of Passover, it was quite an evening.

We enjoyed a relaxing seder with a great brisket dinner. And for dessert, my cousin David made a brilliant end run around the no-flour Passover rule: chocolate creme brulée!

It occurs to me that the idea of ice cream mix-ins makes a mostly kosher for Passover column. While I didn't write about matzoh mix-ins, per se, most of the creations are Passover friendly. Then again, some of that chocolate covered matzoh is pretty tasty and would surely enliven your ice cream. Ditto for macaroons, that coconutty Passover treat.

With Easter just around the corner, I was tempted to crack a Cadbury egg over a bowl of vanilla. Then I realized this was just too gross. And I don't think Peeps would work in cold ice cream, but this still needs to be confirmed if there are any adventurous readers out there.

In a bit of non holiday news, my eagle-eyed brother alerted me that Edy's, in their wisdom, already has an ice cream sandwich flavor. But I assure you that Alex's idea was not influenced by this product, as Edy's doesn't sell it in North Carolina.

Besides, who needs an ice cream sandwich when you've got Hillel sandwich, that symbolic seder food featuring matzoh and horseradish? OK, you're right, not a good swap.