Thanks mostly to the increasingly limited nightlife agenda of my increasingly pregnant wife, I’ve seen more movies in the past year than in any year I can remember. These date nights and the numerous boxes of Good & Plenty I consumed along the way have been two of the more welcomed perks of our imminent parenthood. Furthermore, it had the follow-on effect of heightening my interest in last month’s Oscars, which, though mildly entertaining, was completely lacking in any recognition of outstanding sandwiches in film.
Plenty of movies have memorable one-off scenes involving sandwiches — Bon Appétit has the quintessential listicle — but far too few feature the sandwich as a central narrative device. Among the films I saw last year, there were a couple great ones and more than a few good ones, but “Chef,” written by and starring Jon Favreau as a hotshot Los Angeles chef, was the only one to fit this bill. For this it deserves your immediate attention, and LUCKY YOU it happens to be streaming on Netflix as I type.
On its surface, “Chef” is a classic road movie that tells the heartwarming story of a late-blooming friendship between father and son. It’s also about food trucks and social media and creativity and rediscovery. There’s an absurd cameo from Robert Downey Jr., a bitchin’ soundtrack, a splendid supporting cast including Oliver Platt, John Leguizamo, Dustin Hoffman, Scarlett Johansson, and Sofia Vergara, and food porn aplenty.
The real stars, though, are the sandwiches… Continue reading
“If you have a picky eater, they haven’t tried our pork yet.”
The folks behind Snootie’s BBQ are living the dream. From a brief conversation with the man who served me a delicious pulled pork sandwich, I gathered the following about their annual calendar: Halloween is their food truck’s final day of business in Sandusky, Ohio. Following that, the crew pulls up stakes and heads south to Tampa, where they set up shop through April at Bearss Groves near Lake Magdalene. I’ve had made many fruit and vegetable purchases at the Groves, a fairly extensive covered farmer’s market. I’ve also eaten many barbecue sandwiches at Snootie’s, and I further knew that they were native Ohioans, like me, from the hip, industrialized, Lake Erie side of the state. But I’d never really heard their “story,” so to speak, preferring for the last few years to grumble to myself how much I’d like to be living in Ohio during those months when Florida becomes a tropical inferno where the air itself exudes sweat, and to be here in Tampa when Ohio enters its annual ice age. Continue reading
The Crescent City Fried Shrimp Po-Boy at Little Jewel of New Orleans, Los Angeles.
A few Saturdays ago I visited the Little Jewel of New Orleans, a relatively new Southern-inspired deli oddly situated in an off-the-beaten-path pocket of downtown Los Angeles’ Chinatown district. After sitting through Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest (and sadly underwhelming) two-plus-hour film “Inherent Vice,” I made the right move trying out this gem, pun intended.
Walking in, we were immediately greeted by the gracious proprietor, who welcomed us to his spot and directed us towards the register to order our picks of Southern goodness. Though the menu is vast, with nearly twenty Po’Boy varieties along with other types of sandwiches, platters, and fried bites, I landed on a Muffuletta and the Crescent City Fried Shrimp Po-Boy. Continue reading
The Cubano Panino at G Sandwich Shop on 14th Street
In sandwiches as in life, there is a fine line between expensive and overpriced. The threshold is different for different people, and locating it requires some calculus: How much is the best Italian sub you’ve ever had worth to you? Is it worth twice as much as the second-best Italian sub you’ve ever had?
At G, the 14th Street sandwich shop where the mean cost of the 13 non-breakfast sandwiches on the online menu is $11.90, an Italian sub will run you $13 — exactly 100% more than the adored G Man at Mangialardo & Sons in Southeast D.C. G has been open more than a year now; I’ve never fully embraced the place, and the lofty price point is a big reason why.
One thing that I’ve never questioned is the quality of the sandwiches. Continue reading
It looks like a real Reuben, anyway.
To be ordered by a meat-eater is the highest compliment that can be paid to a meat-free sandwich. I’m a devout omnivore, but I nonetheless consider myself a champion of the veggie sandwich, which, done well, can be every bit as satisfying as its meatier counterparts.
But underneath the big, beautiful umbrella of meat-free sandwiches, there’s an important distinction to be made for vegan sandwiches, which usually stink for two primary reasons. First, vegan bread, woefully lacking in diversity of flavor and texture, is generally pretty awful. Secondly, vegan sandwiches are far, far more likely to feature tofu, seitan, tempeh, or other meat analog prepared in a futile attempt to mimic a real hamburger, cheesesteak, or fried chicken breast.
Put simply, my favorite thing about vegan sandwiches is that I can order something else when I want to. At Sticky Fingers Sweets & Eats, a vegan bakeshop in Columbia Heights, this is a luxury not afforded. Several weeks ago, on the enthusiastic recommendation of a theretofore respected coworker, I ordered the vegan Reuben. It was the first and last vegan Reuben I’d ever eat.
Here are a few lessons learned…