Between the Bread

I always try to be a dainty eater, even when scarfing down a giant sandwich. But some occasions — say, afternoon tea at a fancy hotel, a bridal shower, a Southern funeral — necessitate a dainty sandwich. One of my favorites is the classic British tea sandwich with cucumber and cream cheese, but to give those flavors a little kick, turn to this recipe for Benedictine cheese sandwiches.

Invented in Louisville, KY, at the turn of the century by a woman named Jennie Benedict, this sandwich is like the green counterpart to pimiento cheese. The filling combines cream cheese, mayo, grated cucumber, chopped scallions, and just a drop of green food coloring. To see how to make it, watch my latest Between the Bread segment on PopSugar Live!

One thing I love about San Francisco: despite our tendency to name neighborhoods every few blocks (the Tendernob, Lower Pac Heights, Nopa), we've christened miles of the city with just one name — the Richmond — which gives me license to group together these three delicious Richmond district sandwiches.

First up: Lou's Sandwiches Cafe, a Yelp favorite with a line out the door. I ordered a veggie sandwich with avocado, roasted peppers, pepperoncini, cucumber, and swiss cheese, with the promising inclusion of "Lou's special sauce."

The special sauce lived up to its name on this excellently crafted sandwich. Served on my favorite type of wheat roll, which is criminally hard to find, the sammie held together heartily even with so many delicate ingredients.

The next time I found myself eating sandwiches in the Richmond, I discovered two more exceptional eats, at Blue Danube Coffee House. We went halfsies with two veggie options (what can I say? I'm on an avocado kick) that were both delicious.

The first bore resemblance to my Lou's order, but rather than special sauce, it offered a brilliant combination: hummus drizzled with balsamic vinegar. I don't know why I never thought to do that, but now I'm sold. Perfectly toasted bread and cheddar cheese also won me over.

The caprese sandwich, fixed up yummily with olive tapenade and basil, bested most mozzarella sandwiches I've eaten. That's mostly because the focaccia was outstanding: not too doughy or too oil-y, making for a very well-balanced stack of flavors. I might order this one again just for the bread, but the ratio of ingredients was also delish.

First, a confession: I don't really like Peeps. Given that they are essentially marshmallows covered in sugar, they're just too sweet for me. But I've been dying to make a Peeps fluffernutter sandwich ever since I came across the recipe last Easter. I love sandwiches made with leftover Easter ham and Thanksgiving turkey, so why not leftover candy?

I finally got the chance during my Between the Bread segment on PopSugar Live last week. Though I can't imagine eating more than a few bites of this, I must admit it was delicious. The salty peanut butter (actually soy nut butter, in my case) is just what the sugary peeps need. Definitely a novelty worth trying.

Sometimes, sandwiches taste better when they're totally unexpected — for instance, served at a grocery store in an old gas station in Florida. Equally unexpected: finding forgotten, six-month-old photos on my laptop that are making my mouth water all over again.

On my last trip to P'cola, we lunched at East Hill Market, which is located inside an old service station and still feels like one. Thankfully, instead of jerky, they sell sandwiches like this. My mom and I went halfsies on a turkey club panini with pesto and this incredibly delectable avocado and red pepper on wheat.

It's been so long I don't really recall all of the minute details of the sammies, but the photos pretty much speak for themselves, don't you think?

Just the word "porchetta" sounds delicious, and the unctuous, delectable roast Italian pork tastes as intriguing as its name. Porchetta's, a lunch diner in my hometown in Pensacola, took a bold gamble naming itself for this succulent pork dish, but its sandwiches do porchetta proud.

The piece de resistance is the 8-ounce porchetta sandwich, pictured above, which my dad ordered on our recent visit. It takes pages from po'boys and French dips but shuns any adornments, and in fact, none are necessary because the pork is so flavorful.

The best thing about Porchetta's is that the restaurant puts its star ingredients on any sandwich in need of pork. My stepmom sampled the banh mi, pictured above, dressed with cilantro and the surprising but yummy addition of kimchi. Despite being one of the messiest banh mi I've ever handled, it totally worked.

I couldn't resist the idea of porchetta on a Cuban, and as I suspected, it was a brilliant idea. This traditional Cuban packed a serious punch, despite its unassuming construction. Along with the rest of the menu, this Porchetta's creation makes a strong argument for global sandwich fusion, done entirely without pretension.

Unless you’re from Buffalo or well acquainted with a Buffalonian, you maybe haven’t heard of beef on weck. But this regional favorite is one of the country's oldest sandwiches. Though I still haven't made it to Schwabl's, the Buffalo joint that opened in 1837, I recently tasted a very authentic (says my Buffalo friend Jonas) beef on weck sandwich in San Francisco.

So what the heck is weck? Weck is short for kummelweck (or kimmelweck), the caraway-seeded and salted bun the sandwich is served on. Think of the best pretzel roll you've ever had, but with crunchy bursts of flavor in the form of caraway. Otherwise, the sandwich is similar to a French dip, with tender pink roast beef drizzled with its own roasting juices. Simple, but delicious.

In San Francisco, the beef on weck shows up as an occasional Thursday special at Greenburger's, a casual restaurant in the Lower Haight that serves delicious milkshakes, sammies and burgers, American comfort food, and tributes to the USA's regional cuisine. Though the owner is from Buffalo, the restaurant seems to admire all aspects of American cooking. But the beef on weck is definitely worth a stop.

I've been on a salmon sandwich kick lately, and suddenly I'm finding them everywhere, including on my first visit to Wayfare Tavern. During a rainy lunch, I ordered the salmon club sandwich and a Pimm's cup.

Featuring avocado-basil aioli, roasted tomato, and bacon on brioche, the sandwich was pretty yummy. Frankly, I'd pay $17 to spend every rainy afternoon at this cozy, bucolic tavern.

But while the fish was outstanding, the sandwich itself didn't seem worth $17 — especially compared to this salmon sammie I enjoyed at an impromptu barbecue in a friend's backyard.

Yes, it's much simpler, but the salmon was just as well-cooked, grilled just enough by my personal chefs and served it on a soft bun with avocado.

I'm not saying one sandwich is necessarily superior to the other; just that simpler and cheaper can be just as good.