I have a confession to make, I love sandwiches. As a child I ate a sandwich almost every day. In Israel I had humus and pita sandwich during my school break. At my Orthodox Yemeni grandparents fresh pita accompanied every meal. I suppose that is considered to be a decomposed sandwich.
In the evenings our mom sometimes made us toasted sardines on toast. I’m not sure if that is a British thing. When we visited our grandmother in England we would have marmite on toast, or butter and treacle on toasted whole wheat bread. And of course she make us cucumber sandwiches when we went for a picnic in the beautiful rolling hills of Kent.
Life was good and simple when sandwiches were part of my life.
Then came the part that was sandwichless. I ate better for you foods. International foods. Rice noodles, raw fish and exotic grains and seeds from around the world. At times I avoided the ever so evil and elusive gluten. The funny part was that during part of that time I co owned a bakery that made amazing flat breads. It was a stressful time. I became an adult. My palate grew to be sophisticated. Five, seven or nine course meals where part of my routine.
But I wasn’t happy.
Sandwiches are back in my life. A good bread that is made by people who care about how they bake is a key part of the sandwich. Freshness, softness, crunchiness, creaminess, sourness, sweetness and spice in perfect balance and harmony all held in one or two hands.
I need to be sitting down when eating my sandwich. A good sandwich deserves my full attention. People who eat a sandwich while on the run do not deserve that sandwich. They should eat a “healthy” energy bar.
Life is good now that sandwiches are back in my life…