Between the Bread

The pulled pork Cuban style at Atlas Cafe, happily drenched in mustard and melted with just-pickled cucumbers.

I've sort of given up on trying to eat at Ike's Place, even though it makes some of the finest sandwiches in the city. The lines are just insanely long, even in what used to be off hours, and I am pretty impatient when it comes to waiting in line for food. Thanks in part to Yelp, it's too popular for its own good, which makes me sad.

Apparently, Ike's neighbors aren't happy either, and even the New York Times knows about it. A writeup in Friday's paper addresses the effect of crazy queues at Ike's and Bi-Rite on the surrounding residents. If you're wondering why this topic is worthy of a NYT story, well, I'm with you. But let's take a moment to discuss anyway. According to the article:

With up to 1,200 customers on sunny weekend days, Ike’s has faced a backlash from neighbors. The once-quiet block on 16th Street is fed up with patrons who wait up to two hours for their chance to taste what they believe is nirvana between two slices of bread. In response to complaints, Ike’s reduced its hours starting this month — it closes at 7 p.m.

"The only time we’re not busy is when we’re not open," said Ike Shehadeh, the owner.

Ain't that the truth. And forget finding a table once you've ordered your sandwich. Apparently, on one recent Saturday, the sidewalk was so clogged it was impossible to walk by, and customers were taking their grub to neighboring stoops.

I'm so glad for Ike's success, and dude totally deserves it. But when it comes to long lines for restaurant, I reach a point of diminishing returns after about an hour, or usually less. What about you?

It's bread end week on Between the Bread! First, Lizzy shared her triple-decker solution, and now Andrew, who normally shuns the bread ends, presents this open-face invention.

Using what we had in the fridge, he laid out some multigrain bread ends, ham, and leftover roasted zucchini, then melted Swiss cheese over the top and dusted the delight with salt and pepper. Doesn't it look delicious?

Let the record show that Blimpie sandwiches aren't all they're stacked up to be. In the first sandwich-centric lawsuit I've encountered since starting this blog, two Illinois residents have filed a class action lawsuit against the sandwich chain, claiming that its Super-Stacked sandwiches do not have twice the meat of a regular sub, as advertised. And they've done some serious research, according to Above the Law:

The class claims a 12-inch Blimpie’s Best sub contains 50 grams of protein, and a 12-inch Blimpie’s Best Super Stacked sub contains 73 grams of protein, so it does not have twice as much meat . . .

Lawyers on the case have estimated damages at up to $75,000 per person. I have never been a huge Blimpie fan, but I have a hard time imagining that a 12-inch sub would leave anyone hungry. I take my sandwiches very seriously, but I'm usually on the side of deleting meat, rather than adding it.

You know what could get me into sandwich court though? A poorly constructed or soggy sandwich. Now that is an injustice.

Photo Source: Blimpie

Americans tend to give sandwiches names: the Reuben, the beef on weck, you we name it. Naming sandwiches is something that our country excels at unlike any other, but the French have one notable exception: the croque monsieur and its mate, the croque madame. The croque monsieur, which sounds slightly less glamorous translated as "crispy mister," (ha!) is an iconic French dish that begins as a humble ham and cheese sandwich. What makes it très magnifique is the combination of bechamel sauce with already decadent gruyere cheese. The white bread is then topped with cheese that's browned in the oven and, in the case of the croque madame, it's finished with an egg.

According to chef Daniel Boulud, the croque monsieur was invented in 1910 at a café on Paris’s Boulevard des Capucines, right around the time the middle class was embracing cafe culture and, in turn, sandwiches. And thank goodness they did. I have had delicious croque monsieurs, but I've actually never ordered one in France. How about you?

Between the Bread loyalist Lizzy (who you may remember from her amazing leftover turkey sandwich) has gotten the turkey-sandwich-at-work bug. And she's come up with an innovation I have yet to dabble in:

I have been making sandwiches a lot at work lately (a great way to save money and eat healthy). The sandwich I have made four times this week is turkey, avocado on wheat bread. Today, I ran into a little problem that happens to all of us sandwich eaters: there were three pieces of bread left in the bag, two of which were the super thin end pieces.

So what did she do? "I decided to just use all pieces and simply layer the avocado and turkey throughout. The result was a tasty, triple-decker sandwich! I mean, we have all seen it with the Big Mac and the Club, but I have never made a sandwich like this before, nor thought to do it. Have you ever made a layered sandwich?"

Now that she mentions it, I don't think I have! Anyone else?

This weekend on a rare trip to Berkeley, I scoped out a perfect brunch spot, only to arrive and discover a 45-minute wait. New plan! My mom and I wandered into a seafood joint I had never heard of called Sea Salt.

I figured I might as well order seafood, and why not get a sandwich? Though my mom's crab cake benedict was better (hard to make that bad), the trout sandwich was well done. Pan-seared fish, the perfect thickness, served on a house-baked roll with sides of tartar sauce and slaw on the side. I wondered if trout sandwiches are a local specialty anywhere in the States. Curious? Keep reading.

Lately I've taken it as a personal challenge to make killer sandwiches out of whatever's in the fridge (stay tuned for more experiments), and I've had some triumphs.

This sesame-bunned delight combined two dinners' worth of leftovers: pulled pork sandwiches, made with Trader Joe's surprisingly tasted preprepared meat, and zucchini and portobello mushroom tacos with red onions. Though admittedly unconventional, the sweet flavors of the meat contrasted nicely with the fleshy roasted zucchini.

I spread salsa on the bottom bun, topped it with pulled pork, added the zucchini and onions (there weren't any leftover mushrooms), and sprinkled some shredded four-cheese Mexican blend on top and let it melt.

What do you think: too weird? Would you eat it?

I promised myself I'd stop posting my boring old turkey sammitch lunches, but this one was such a surprise success: turkey and Swiss with fresh basil leaves, pumpkin butter, and sliced Bacon avocado gifted to me by Lauren. I forget how great basil is on sandwiches, and the pumpkin is a welcome change.