For months now, I have been informally surveying people regarding the local burger scene in Danville, IL. This debate is one that rages fully and, more or less, there are four competitors: Gross Burgers, Mike's Grill, Moon Glo, and Schroeder's.
Everyone has their favorites. Gross Burgers features the crispy-edge thin burger that some might equate to Steak 'n Shake. But Gross Burgers meat is of superior quality and the hamburgers are a delight, no doubt. One thing I like about Gross Burgers is the simplicity of ordering a hamburger that is unique. So many times a restaurant gets caught up on itself, but Gross Burgers keeps it simple. How many patties do you want? Cheese? What do you want on it? And don't ask for tomatoes! You get that with the ketchup.
Mike's Grill, on the other hand, is similar to Gross Burgers in the size of the patty, but it lacks the crispy edge. What stands out the most about Mike's is the cheese melt on the cheeseburger. I have no idea how they get it so perfect, but it is perfect, the best I have ever seen. The cheese literally drips off the burger and clings to the wrap the burger comes in. True cheese paper if I have ever seen it. The meat is of high quality and the burgers are consistent.
Moon Glo is known for the size of their burgers. The Moon Burger lives up to its name. Many people can order one and split it for a meal. The meat is high quality, like the first two joints mentioned, and the condiments are plenty. Moon Glo is entirely ala carte, so be prepared to order everything. Go for the Moon Burger and the fried pickles with ranch dressing. Both are excellent. The most important thing about Moon Glo is the atmosphere and the gigantic burgers.
Schroeder's always comes in fourth on the list of "best burger joint" in the area, but I have a special place in my heart for it. It is a classic drive-thru restaurant that hasn't been monopolized by the trend of upgrading fast food. Schroeder's keeps it simple. They offer a double cheeseburger for .99 cents and the fries are decent. The burgers are not of the caliber of Mike's, Moon Glo, or Gross Burgers, but they are not really supposed to be either. Schroeder's is a place to grab a quick burger (and they are quick) for cheap before heading to park with your kids or to whatever athletic practice or other extracurricular you are currently scurrying off to.
One man's opinion here, but I promised readers of this blog a verdict, so here it is. If I were to pick one place to go for a hamburger in Vermilion County, I would choose Mike's Grill. It's not to say that the other joints are poor. Far from it. It's just that cheese melt is so perfect in taste and consistency I marvel at it every time.
Finally, some other places, should you be out and about, to consider for a good burger:
South Side Drive In - Milford
Dairy Queen - Milford
Mr. B's Cafe - Hoopeston
Please share your favorite burger joints around Vermilion County, and around the country, so that everyone can partake of this truly classic sandwich. Happy chomping!
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
A Lotta Muffeletta and OMG BLT
First a note on bar-b-que. I'm a freak for it. I love ribs, brisket, pulled pork, anything smoked, seared on a grill, or smothered in homemade sauce. So, it was a great trip recently when I motored through Memphis and found my feet ten feet off of yummy at Leonard's BBQ, a little joint on Memphis's southeast side that packs them in and does it right. Great stuff. The pulled pork (or barbeque for those of you in the South) stole the show, and the sauce was a creamy mixture of smoky molasses and sweet sugar. Perfect afternoon.
That being said, the sandwiches certainly had their own showing on this trip. I will also say one more thing, as a disclaimer. I am a frequenter of Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives featured restaurants, and while I do not believe they represent the only good food out there (quite the opposite), you may find several mentions of those locations on this blog (the aforementioned Leonard's is one--so is Tom's Barbeque, also in Memphis, that rocks the pulled pork). But back to the sandwiches.
First, a stop in my ultimate destination on this trip, New Orleans, or Nawlins', depending where you lay your hat. I have never been a huge fan of the muffaletta sandwich, which is a bit of a surprise considering it features several of the aspects of a sandwich I admire. It's simple. Salami, capicola, ham, cheese (provolone), and olive salad (or just chopped olives at some places). It highlights the bread, known simply as the muffeletta loaf, and it's substantial. For some reason, perhaps the wide range of variations, I have never been a fan. On my trip, I learned two things. One, I have been wrong about the muffeletta sandwich. And two, I know one secret that brings it to the highest standing on my sandwich list.
I had a muffeletta at Central Grocery in New Orleans. When you go to New Orleans, because you should go if you haven't already, you should make Central Grocery a stop for a sandwich. It's all they sell, besides, of course, groceries, and the line may be long, but it's worth the wait. I am not into big time touristy stuff usually and tend to stay off the beaten path (go to Croissant d' Or on Ursuline, on that note, for an outstanding croissant breakfast sandwich), but Central Grocery is worth the stop. The muffeletta is pre-made, so when you order, you simply have to ask for a half or a whole. A half will do most people. For those with two or three folks in your party, a whole will probably suffice. The sandwich is surprisingly tasty and wonderfully constructed. It doesn't come apart easily, despite its size, and the smoky flavor of the provolone mixes beautifully with the saltiness of the salami and olive salad (which they make at the store, and you can buy, and you should). The bread is soft and absorbent, and there in lies the secret I mentioned earlier. The sandwiches are pre-made, thus giving the olive salad juices a chance to soak into the bread. Aha! All muffelettas I have had have been prepared right before I ate them. It was a delectable dining experience at a lunch counter in the back of a grocery store.
On the way to New Orleans, the road took a swing through Jackson, MS and featured a stop at Walker's Drive In where, I can safely say, I had the best BLT I've ever tasted. For anyone who has read this blog in the past, you know that my favorite sandwich is the BLT, that I have my own recipes (stay tuned for a Fourth of July BLT celebration, by the way), and the BLT at Walker's is heads and tails above the rest. Applewood smoked bacon. Fresh lettuce. A ciabiatta bun for bread. A blended mayo that fit just right. And, here's the kicker, a fried green tomato. The FGT was perfectly cooked, not greasy, light on the breading. The tomato was tender and gave the BLT a taste I have never experienced. Kudos to Walker's for such a creation and for coloring the Sandwich Guy impressed with a BLT (not easy to do, by the way).
I will return to Walker's some day to indulge in another Green Tomato BLT. If you're ever in Jackson, MS, you have to stop by this place. The food is not typical drive-in food, and both of us (my wife and I) were extremely impressed. We were saddened by the fact that we couldn't make a return trip to Walker's on the way home.
Two stops. Two great sandwiches that are deserving of a place on the top ten list for this sandwich afficionado. And some bbq to boot! What a culinary trip!
On another more local note, the burger wars are heating up. If you read this blog and live in the Danville, IL area, please shoot me an email at ryan@ryanpstone.com regarding your favorite local burger joint. If you're not from the Danville area, I'd still love to hear about where to go when I'm in your neck of the woods for a dynamite burger.
That being said, the sandwiches certainly had their own showing on this trip. I will also say one more thing, as a disclaimer. I am a frequenter of Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives featured restaurants, and while I do not believe they represent the only good food out there (quite the opposite), you may find several mentions of those locations on this blog (the aforementioned Leonard's is one--so is Tom's Barbeque, also in Memphis, that rocks the pulled pork). But back to the sandwiches.
First, a stop in my ultimate destination on this trip, New Orleans, or Nawlins', depending where you lay your hat. I have never been a huge fan of the muffaletta sandwich, which is a bit of a surprise considering it features several of the aspects of a sandwich I admire. It's simple. Salami, capicola, ham, cheese (provolone), and olive salad (or just chopped olives at some places). It highlights the bread, known simply as the muffeletta loaf, and it's substantial. For some reason, perhaps the wide range of variations, I have never been a fan. On my trip, I learned two things. One, I have been wrong about the muffeletta sandwich. And two, I know one secret that brings it to the highest standing on my sandwich list.
I had a muffeletta at Central Grocery in New Orleans. When you go to New Orleans, because you should go if you haven't already, you should make Central Grocery a stop for a sandwich. It's all they sell, besides, of course, groceries, and the line may be long, but it's worth the wait. I am not into big time touristy stuff usually and tend to stay off the beaten path (go to Croissant d' Or on Ursuline, on that note, for an outstanding croissant breakfast sandwich), but Central Grocery is worth the stop. The muffeletta is pre-made, so when you order, you simply have to ask for a half or a whole. A half will do most people. For those with two or three folks in your party, a whole will probably suffice. The sandwich is surprisingly tasty and wonderfully constructed. It doesn't come apart easily, despite its size, and the smoky flavor of the provolone mixes beautifully with the saltiness of the salami and olive salad (which they make at the store, and you can buy, and you should). The bread is soft and absorbent, and there in lies the secret I mentioned earlier. The sandwiches are pre-made, thus giving the olive salad juices a chance to soak into the bread. Aha! All muffelettas I have had have been prepared right before I ate them. It was a delectable dining experience at a lunch counter in the back of a grocery store.
On the way to New Orleans, the road took a swing through Jackson, MS and featured a stop at Walker's Drive In where, I can safely say, I had the best BLT I've ever tasted. For anyone who has read this blog in the past, you know that my favorite sandwich is the BLT, that I have my own recipes (stay tuned for a Fourth of July BLT celebration, by the way), and the BLT at Walker's is heads and tails above the rest. Applewood smoked bacon. Fresh lettuce. A ciabiatta bun for bread. A blended mayo that fit just right. And, here's the kicker, a fried green tomato. The FGT was perfectly cooked, not greasy, light on the breading. The tomato was tender and gave the BLT a taste I have never experienced. Kudos to Walker's for such a creation and for coloring the Sandwich Guy impressed with a BLT (not easy to do, by the way).
I will return to Walker's some day to indulge in another Green Tomato BLT. If you're ever in Jackson, MS, you have to stop by this place. The food is not typical drive-in food, and both of us (my wife and I) were extremely impressed. We were saddened by the fact that we couldn't make a return trip to Walker's on the way home.
Two stops. Two great sandwiches that are deserving of a place on the top ten list for this sandwich afficionado. And some bbq to boot! What a culinary trip!
On another more local note, the burger wars are heating up. If you read this blog and live in the Danville, IL area, please shoot me an email at ryan@ryanpstone.com regarding your favorite local burger joint. If you're not from the Danville area, I'd still love to hear about where to go when I'm in your neck of the woods for a dynamite burger.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Au Jus De Jour
Normally, a French Dip sandwich is not up my alley. For some reason, roast beef on a sandwich does not appeal to me enough to drag my eyes past the BLT and the club, past the Italian beef, past the Reuben and its tart kraut to the French Dip. That being said, it is a sandwich, and, thus, deserves a mention from The Sandwich Guy.
One of the things I do enjoy about the French Dip is the au jus. "Au jus" is French for "with juice," so true au jus is made from the beef's drippings as it slowly roasts in the oven. One French Dip I had, in Indiana at a restaurant whose name now escapes me, sent the au jus to the table with a sprig of fresh rosemary soaking in the succulent sauce. Swirling the rosemary just before dipping the sandwich created a little bite of heaven. A good au jus is also mostly left alone (the rosemary concoction above being an obvious exception). Too much salt or spice can replace the truly remarkable natural flavor with something entirely false and unbecoming. That said, too many places rely on the old beef bullion cube or the powdered mix to create their au jus. And all too often, these efforts will only leave your tongue stinging from the excessive salt. I am a salt fan. I douse my food with ancient sea salt that is filled with minerals and age-old flavors. But over-salted au jus is simply too much even for this salty dog.
Another important key to a strong showing from a French Dip is the bread. Ideally, it should be a tough bread with a thick shell and a chewy, absorbent interior. A good Italian loaf usually works at home, but restaurants and afficiandos should go for the thick French baguette. Remember, the bread is going to go through a lot of torture in those juices, and it needs to withstand all the torments.
A point of note: The French Dip is, not so surprisingly, not French. It originated in this country in Los Angeles. In fact, it would be difficult to find such a creation in France where the sandwich is widely ignored.
One of the things I do enjoy about the French Dip is the au jus. "Au jus" is French for "with juice," so true au jus is made from the beef's drippings as it slowly roasts in the oven. One French Dip I had, in Indiana at a restaurant whose name now escapes me, sent the au jus to the table with a sprig of fresh rosemary soaking in the succulent sauce. Swirling the rosemary just before dipping the sandwich created a little bite of heaven. A good au jus is also mostly left alone (the rosemary concoction above being an obvious exception). Too much salt or spice can replace the truly remarkable natural flavor with something entirely false and unbecoming. That said, too many places rely on the old beef bullion cube or the powdered mix to create their au jus. And all too often, these efforts will only leave your tongue stinging from the excessive salt. I am a salt fan. I douse my food with ancient sea salt that is filled with minerals and age-old flavors. But over-salted au jus is simply too much even for this salty dog.
Another important key to a strong showing from a French Dip is the bread. Ideally, it should be a tough bread with a thick shell and a chewy, absorbent interior. A good Italian loaf usually works at home, but restaurants and afficiandos should go for the thick French baguette. Remember, the bread is going to go through a lot of torture in those juices, and it needs to withstand all the torments.
A point of note: The French Dip is, not so surprisingly, not French. It originated in this country in Los Angeles. In fact, it would be difficult to find such a creation in France where the sandwich is widely ignored.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Pulled Pork, A Reading Tour, and A Dynamic Club
Driving through Northern Missouri can be about as exciting as peeling potatoes for no particular reason and almost as scenic. When you are on a mission to meet old friends, however, the scenery matters not and the destination dominates.
I set out on a reading / lecture tour last week, the last hurrah for my short-story collection, and, most certainly, I was interested in local sandwich flair. Before I left for the wilds of Missouri, I prepared a nice pulled pork concoction for my family to enjoy in my absence, and I was lucky enough that when I returned some remained.
With John Hiatt on the radio, I drove out of Illinois, smiling, and found myself staying in a haunted house in Fayette, MO. The experience was, to say the least, investigation-worthy, but that's for another blog. What I was most interested in, without doubt, was the local joint's attempt at a club sandwich. Emmet's Kitchen and Tap is new to Fayette. It wasn't around when I was haunting the college's grounds fifteen years ago, but the locals raved about it from the moment I stepped on campus.
I had to choose between my standard Reuben that I use so often to get a gauge on the sandwich quality, but for some reason, perhaps the ghosts in my temporary dwelling had possessed me, I went for the club. It was a noble and successful attempt at a sandwich that all too often winds up overdone. A club sandwich is simple. Bacon, lettuce, mayo, cheese, and whatever type of smoked meat the maker has in mind (typically smoked ham and turkey). In fact, the beauty of a club, as opposed to a Reuben, is in its simplicity. I have tasted many clubs that try way too hard with specially spiced mayo or some other sauce or, perhaps, a sandwich that is piled so incredibly high even Dagwood himself would hesitate. Emmet's club was none of these. The mayo was good old fashioned mayo. I had a choice of bread (I choose whole wheat), and I could have chosen toasted or not. The bacon had a hint of hickory smoke and was thick cut (always important). The lettuce was crisp and fresh, and the bread was hot, another important key to a good toasted club. The meats were the traditional turkey and ham layered in the triple-decker fashion so common for the club sandwich, but it was not overdone. The sandwich was manageable and easy to eat. The sweet potato fries were excellent. They were fried but not greasy and had just enough crunch. Overall, I would rate this club sandwich a 9 out of a possible 10. The only thing that halted me was skimping a bit on the excellent bacon. I would have liked an additional piece, but that's me (I'm a bacon freak).
All in all, Emmet's Kitchen and Tap is worth a stop if you're ever blowing through Fayette. I had a great time on my reading binge, and I hope to return in the future to sample more sandwiches at Emmet's.
I set out on a reading / lecture tour last week, the last hurrah for my short-story collection, and, most certainly, I was interested in local sandwich flair. Before I left for the wilds of Missouri, I prepared a nice pulled pork concoction for my family to enjoy in my absence, and I was lucky enough that when I returned some remained.
With John Hiatt on the radio, I drove out of Illinois, smiling, and found myself staying in a haunted house in Fayette, MO. The experience was, to say the least, investigation-worthy, but that's for another blog. What I was most interested in, without doubt, was the local joint's attempt at a club sandwich. Emmet's Kitchen and Tap is new to Fayette. It wasn't around when I was haunting the college's grounds fifteen years ago, but the locals raved about it from the moment I stepped on campus.
I had to choose between my standard Reuben that I use so often to get a gauge on the sandwich quality, but for some reason, perhaps the ghosts in my temporary dwelling had possessed me, I went for the club. It was a noble and successful attempt at a sandwich that all too often winds up overdone. A club sandwich is simple. Bacon, lettuce, mayo, cheese, and whatever type of smoked meat the maker has in mind (typically smoked ham and turkey). In fact, the beauty of a club, as opposed to a Reuben, is in its simplicity. I have tasted many clubs that try way too hard with specially spiced mayo or some other sauce or, perhaps, a sandwich that is piled so incredibly high even Dagwood himself would hesitate. Emmet's club was none of these. The mayo was good old fashioned mayo. I had a choice of bread (I choose whole wheat), and I could have chosen toasted or not. The bacon had a hint of hickory smoke and was thick cut (always important). The lettuce was crisp and fresh, and the bread was hot, another important key to a good toasted club. The meats were the traditional turkey and ham layered in the triple-decker fashion so common for the club sandwich, but it was not overdone. The sandwich was manageable and easy to eat. The sweet potato fries were excellent. They were fried but not greasy and had just enough crunch. Overall, I would rate this club sandwich a 9 out of a possible 10. The only thing that halted me was skimping a bit on the excellent bacon. I would have liked an additional piece, but that's me (I'm a bacon freak).
All in all, Emmet's Kitchen and Tap is worth a stop if you're ever blowing through Fayette. I had a great time on my reading binge, and I hope to return in the future to sample more sandwiches at Emmet's.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
A Long and Dreadful Winter Followed by A Sandwich
Cold. If better words existed to describe the severity of the winter's hammer, they would present themselves, but they do not exist. Or if they do, they are simply too harsh and outlandish to consider in the wake of the tumultuous wave of snow, ice, and chapping winds. My youngest son's cheeks perpetually reddened. My oldest son's demeanor perpetually darkened by the short days.
All of this, and yet a sandwich shop appears in my humbly small, insignificant town. Inside a gas station, of course. What else would one expect? And speaking of expectations, I had none. None to speak of. I expected the same treatment from the side business of the pump station as I had from the days in January. Cold. Gray. Boring. Bland. Dull. Simplistic. Ultimately derived from some side corner of Hell. Alas, the sandwich shop situated neatly in our revitalized, rejuvenated, and renovated Casey's set out to surprise me.
I ordered, without enthusiasm, a turkey and cheese sub. First, the selection is broader than the most prominent of the chain sub shops with a wider selection of cheeses, including cheddar and Swiss, and a comparable selection of meats and veggies. I asked for the wheat bread, something I'm accustomed to and that my lovely wife enjoys, along with a honey mustard. I will admit there were pitfalls to this sandwich. The honey mustard was too watery and a little too sweet for my taste. The bread was a bit bland, though such is case in most mass-production sandwich shops. However, this sandwich had it's moments. The veggies were snap-fresh and the meat was tender and juicy. I've had sub experiences in chain stores with dry meats and cheeses that crumble in the mouth. No such case here. Color me impressed, which is a more exciting color than anything the winter has offered so far. The sandwich shop in the Casey's in Rossville is a nice addition, and a splash of vibrant life on the winter's white palate.
All of this, and yet a sandwich shop appears in my humbly small, insignificant town. Inside a gas station, of course. What else would one expect? And speaking of expectations, I had none. None to speak of. I expected the same treatment from the side business of the pump station as I had from the days in January. Cold. Gray. Boring. Bland. Dull. Simplistic. Ultimately derived from some side corner of Hell. Alas, the sandwich shop situated neatly in our revitalized, rejuvenated, and renovated Casey's set out to surprise me.
I ordered, without enthusiasm, a turkey and cheese sub. First, the selection is broader than the most prominent of the chain sub shops with a wider selection of cheeses, including cheddar and Swiss, and a comparable selection of meats and veggies. I asked for the wheat bread, something I'm accustomed to and that my lovely wife enjoys, along with a honey mustard. I will admit there were pitfalls to this sandwich. The honey mustard was too watery and a little too sweet for my taste. The bread was a bit bland, though such is case in most mass-production sandwich shops. However, this sandwich had it's moments. The veggies were snap-fresh and the meat was tender and juicy. I've had sub experiences in chain stores with dry meats and cheeses that crumble in the mouth. No such case here. Color me impressed, which is a more exciting color than anything the winter has offered so far. The sandwich shop in the Casey's in Rossville is a nice addition, and a splash of vibrant life on the winter's white palate.
Monday, November 29, 2010
The Long Wait for the Ultimate BLT
Perhaps it has been so long since I posted something because not long after my last post, I ate an awful, awful sandwich, an experience no one should have. The sandwich consisted of some kind of chewy meat slapped between two over-buttered, under-toasted pieces of white bread and topped with poor-quality American and Swiss cheeses. I partook of this atrocity in the fair city of Rantoul. I will not name the establishment to protect the extraordinarily guilty; however, I will say that on the menu, the statement "We're famous for this one" appears. If "famous" means causing the consumer to spend an hour in close proximity to his or her favorite commode, then I applaud the creation's efforts. I do not prescribe to that definition of fame.
I recently produced a recipe of my own on the blog for a relish that is sure to tantalize and delight. Now, I would like to offer a way of utilizing that relish in The Sandwich Guy's Ultimate BLT. As previously stated on these scrumptious pages, the BLT is one of, if not the, finest creations in all of Sandwichdom. The Earl himself would be pleased. That being said there is always room for improvement.
The trick here, as with any BLT, is in the bacon. Bacon is not to be taken lightly, folks. Leave the turkey bacon on the shelves for the turkeys who are seduced by its dry and useless taste. You want thick, hearty bacon. Bacon that sweats grease and fizzes when you cook it. And you want a lot of it.
The finest place to buy bacon, in my opinion, is Rawhide in Danville, IL. In fact, there's few other places to buy excellent meat, though I've heard good things about some other establishments as well. Their bacon is smoked and thick and cooks up like a dream. You want a pound of bacon to create five to six sandwiches (yes, you read that correctly). A good way to cook the bacon, by the way, is to cut it in half and fry it in a cast iron skillet, which holds the heat very well. Cutting it will decrease the overall cooking time as well as allow a more evenly cooked piece of savory meat.
After you've secured the proper bacon, the next selection has to be the bread. Don't underestimate the importance of bread to any sandwich (see previous posts on this matter). I prefer sourdough; however, a good rye bread is also a nice choice. I once used a marble rye (of Seinfeld fame) to create the Ultimate BLT and was pleased with the result. You have to toast the bread, and I suggest doing so with a little butter in a pan. It gives the bread so much more flavor than simply stuffing it into a toaster.
Finally, you need the fixings, which are the standards (lettuce, tomato, onion--if you like) and the all important cheese. For a normal BLT, I select American cheese. However, the Ultimate BLT requires a bit more attention. I go with a nice baby Swiss, which compliments the spread's tartness.
Speaking of the spread: They have a wonderful tradition in California of gracing many of their dishes with avocados, a practice that is extended to the BLT. I like to continue that engagement between avocado and bacon with a spread that also incorporates the pre-mentioned relish. Take an avocado, mayo, and some of the homemade relish and mix them together, gently mashing the avocado. You don't want to take away all of the avocado's chunkiness, just enough to make a creamy spread (think guacamole here). Spread the creation on the toasted bread, stack your fixings and bacon, and have at it. You will find this experience truly worthwhile.
I've fully recovered from my Rantoul excursion and am back on the hunt for the finest sandwiches in the Vermillion County area. As always, share your recipes, share your thoughts, share your sandwiches.
I recently produced a recipe of my own on the blog for a relish that is sure to tantalize and delight. Now, I would like to offer a way of utilizing that relish in The Sandwich Guy's Ultimate BLT. As previously stated on these scrumptious pages, the BLT is one of, if not the, finest creations in all of Sandwichdom. The Earl himself would be pleased. That being said there is always room for improvement.
The trick here, as with any BLT, is in the bacon. Bacon is not to be taken lightly, folks. Leave the turkey bacon on the shelves for the turkeys who are seduced by its dry and useless taste. You want thick, hearty bacon. Bacon that sweats grease and fizzes when you cook it. And you want a lot of it.
The finest place to buy bacon, in my opinion, is Rawhide in Danville, IL. In fact, there's few other places to buy excellent meat, though I've heard good things about some other establishments as well. Their bacon is smoked and thick and cooks up like a dream. You want a pound of bacon to create five to six sandwiches (yes, you read that correctly). A good way to cook the bacon, by the way, is to cut it in half and fry it in a cast iron skillet, which holds the heat very well. Cutting it will decrease the overall cooking time as well as allow a more evenly cooked piece of savory meat.
After you've secured the proper bacon, the next selection has to be the bread. Don't underestimate the importance of bread to any sandwich (see previous posts on this matter). I prefer sourdough; however, a good rye bread is also a nice choice. I once used a marble rye (of Seinfeld fame) to create the Ultimate BLT and was pleased with the result. You have to toast the bread, and I suggest doing so with a little butter in a pan. It gives the bread so much more flavor than simply stuffing it into a toaster.
Finally, you need the fixings, which are the standards (lettuce, tomato, onion--if you like) and the all important cheese. For a normal BLT, I select American cheese. However, the Ultimate BLT requires a bit more attention. I go with a nice baby Swiss, which compliments the spread's tartness.
Speaking of the spread: They have a wonderful tradition in California of gracing many of their dishes with avocados, a practice that is extended to the BLT. I like to continue that engagement between avocado and bacon with a spread that also incorporates the pre-mentioned relish. Take an avocado, mayo, and some of the homemade relish and mix them together, gently mashing the avocado. You don't want to take away all of the avocado's chunkiness, just enough to make a creamy spread (think guacamole here). Spread the creation on the toasted bread, stack your fixings and bacon, and have at it. You will find this experience truly worthwhile.
I've fully recovered from my Rantoul excursion and am back on the hunt for the finest sandwiches in the Vermillion County area. As always, share your recipes, share your thoughts, share your sandwiches.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
The Sandwiches that Shaped Me and The Sandwich Guy's Kickin' Relish Receipe
Behind every passion there lies a significant list of experiences that has shaped that passion. This is true for everything from musical talents to serial killers. It's true for sandwiches as well, and, fortunately, the list is not as intense as one a serial killer might create.
Here are the fab five sandwiches that shaped my early affection for that concoction of the famed Earl.
1) My mother's Tuna Frenchie -- This sandwich is made with plenty of butter for toasting and tuna salad. I have stated that I am not fond of the "salad" sandwich group. One of the main reasons for this is that it is extremely easy to overdo it on the mayo, thus creating an eating experience that tastes mostly like bread and gloopy, gloppy mayonaise. My mother, however, always seemed to get the combination of "wet" ingredients (the mayo, mustard, and relish) and "dry" ingredients (the tuna and spices) so that the sandwich came out perfect. Essentially, a tuna frenchie is a tuna salad sandwich that has been doused with butter and toasted in a hot pan. Delicious.
2) My father's pulled pork -- I am proud to say that no one I know makes a better pulled pork sandwich than my father. He takes his preparation seriously, something that is a must when it comes to excellent pulled pork. He also makes his own sauce, cooks his pork shoulder so slow it's almost torture, and carefully monitors the addition of spices to his artwork. The result is a tender and juicy sandwich worthy of the mess it makes on your face. I can't get enough of the filling, and it doesn't even matter what kind of bread it is piled on.
3) The Monte Cristo -- This was an eye-opener for me, and I've never had a better one than at Bennigan's, one of the few times a chain restaurant tops my "best sandwich" list. The Cristo is a difficult sandwich to pull off since it requires not only expert sandwich construction but also expert deep frying and oil hot enough to keep the sandwich from being overly oily. I'll say no more about The Cristo because unless you've had a good one, there's simply no way to describe the experience, especially when raspberry jam is involved.
4) My mother-in-law's Italian Beef -- Much like my father's pulled pork, this sandwich is juicy, tasty and served on just the right bread, a hoagie roll. Accompanying the well-prepared meat is a generous portion of shredded pepper jack cheese and a scrumptious little spicy morsel, the pepperoncini, which I can eat straight from the jar, but when paired with this sandwich, the little pepper takes a step up in importance.
5) My own Ultimate BLT -- The first sandwich I made that I thought was worthy of the effort was my BLT. I top it with two types of cheeses, Swiss and American, and a special, homemade relish that I cooked up myself (the recipe is below). I also use either rye bread or pumpernickel, depending on my mood, and I always, always toast the bread in a hot pan with butter. I serve this sandwich with a pickle and homemade chips. Yum.
That's the list of sandwiches that have formed my opinion of sandwiches from the beginning. Share your own lists, and please don't hesitate to mention peanut butter and jelly if that's an important staple in your sandwich stable.
RECIPE
The Sandwich Guy's Kickin' Relish
1 cup green olives
1/2 cup sweet salad peppers (make sure they are the sweet kind)
1-2 pepperoncini (for more of a kick, add more of the peppers; for a purely sweet relish, leave the actual peppers out and just add a pinch of the pepperoncini juice)
1 Tbsp of the olive juice
1 Tbsp of the sweet salad pepper juice
1 tsp of pepperoncini juice.
Place all ingredients into a food processor. Use the "Pulse" option to chop ingredients into a fine relish. Spread on your favorite sandwich or hot dog and enjoy!
Here are the fab five sandwiches that shaped my early affection for that concoction of the famed Earl.
1) My mother's Tuna Frenchie -- This sandwich is made with plenty of butter for toasting and tuna salad. I have stated that I am not fond of the "salad" sandwich group. One of the main reasons for this is that it is extremely easy to overdo it on the mayo, thus creating an eating experience that tastes mostly like bread and gloopy, gloppy mayonaise. My mother, however, always seemed to get the combination of "wet" ingredients (the mayo, mustard, and relish) and "dry" ingredients (the tuna and spices) so that the sandwich came out perfect. Essentially, a tuna frenchie is a tuna salad sandwich that has been doused with butter and toasted in a hot pan. Delicious.
2) My father's pulled pork -- I am proud to say that no one I know makes a better pulled pork sandwich than my father. He takes his preparation seriously, something that is a must when it comes to excellent pulled pork. He also makes his own sauce, cooks his pork shoulder so slow it's almost torture, and carefully monitors the addition of spices to his artwork. The result is a tender and juicy sandwich worthy of the mess it makes on your face. I can't get enough of the filling, and it doesn't even matter what kind of bread it is piled on.
3) The Monte Cristo -- This was an eye-opener for me, and I've never had a better one than at Bennigan's, one of the few times a chain restaurant tops my "best sandwich" list. The Cristo is a difficult sandwich to pull off since it requires not only expert sandwich construction but also expert deep frying and oil hot enough to keep the sandwich from being overly oily. I'll say no more about The Cristo because unless you've had a good one, there's simply no way to describe the experience, especially when raspberry jam is involved.
4) My mother-in-law's Italian Beef -- Much like my father's pulled pork, this sandwich is juicy, tasty and served on just the right bread, a hoagie roll. Accompanying the well-prepared meat is a generous portion of shredded pepper jack cheese and a scrumptious little spicy morsel, the pepperoncini, which I can eat straight from the jar, but when paired with this sandwich, the little pepper takes a step up in importance.
5) My own Ultimate BLT -- The first sandwich I made that I thought was worthy of the effort was my BLT. I top it with two types of cheeses, Swiss and American, and a special, homemade relish that I cooked up myself (the recipe is below). I also use either rye bread or pumpernickel, depending on my mood, and I always, always toast the bread in a hot pan with butter. I serve this sandwich with a pickle and homemade chips. Yum.
That's the list of sandwiches that have formed my opinion of sandwiches from the beginning. Share your own lists, and please don't hesitate to mention peanut butter and jelly if that's an important staple in your sandwich stable.
RECIPE
The Sandwich Guy's Kickin' Relish
1 cup green olives
1/2 cup sweet salad peppers (make sure they are the sweet kind)
1-2 pepperoncini (for more of a kick, add more of the peppers; for a purely sweet relish, leave the actual peppers out and just add a pinch of the pepperoncini juice)
1 Tbsp of the olive juice
1 Tbsp of the sweet salad pepper juice
1 tsp of pepperoncini juice.
Place all ingredients into a food processor. Use the "Pulse" option to chop ingredients into a fine relish. Spread on your favorite sandwich or hot dog and enjoy!
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