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It will be good if,,,
Once you pick it up you cannot put it down because releasing your two-handed grip on it would trigger a food avalanche.
The beauty of a pressed sandwich isn’t just that it can be done ahead of time, but that it actually should be done ahead of time. Because this is one of those rare sandwiches that improves with time. And as an added bonus, it also happens to be an excellent way to feed a crowd at a picnic.
Here’s how it works: Start by slicing a full loaf of bread in half horizontally. A bit of the insides of each half is removed, then the cut side of each half of the bread is liberally coated with an oil- or other fat-based condiment. This step is key because that fat creates a barrier that helps prevent moist sandwich fillings from making your bread soggy.
After that, you just pile on the fillings and assemble the sandwich. To finish, the sandwich is wrapped tightly in plastic wrap, then foil, then placed in the refrigerator, where it is weighed down. Hence the pressed. The next day, you just unwrap, slice and enjoy. More.
What is your favorite sandwich?
I haven't done a food section story in a while. But I have an idea to pitch.
“Insanely Sloppy Sandwiches and the Insane People Who Make Them.”
They're out there. Men (and possibly women) who simply lack condiment control. Because of their food-prep mental impairment, they are incapable of making a sandwich that does not start turning into a bready pile of goo before they even sit down and find something to watch on TV.
These people could be your friends. They might be your neighbors.
To the casual observer, they seem normal and well-adjusted.
But when they start making a sandwich, something happens. Something scary. A sort of stacking mania takes over and they end up constructing snacks that would require flying buttresses to maintain structural integrity.
And once they begin to shove these unholy creations into their gaping maws, they have to maintain a death grip on the Frankensandwich or else a cascading failure will commence with an avalanche of pickles, mayo and tomato slices.
Forget napkins. This full-face wipe-down is a job for a beach towel.
Story would address several key questions:
Is it a cry for help?
Should there be a support group?
Should mustard be a controlled substance?
When is it time to organize an intervention?
Do sloppy-sandwich makers pass along a sandwich-disaster gene?
Could also do confessional first-person sidebar: “My name is Paul, and I have been making out-of-control sandwiches since I was a teenager.”
Anyway, let me know what you think.
Thanks for considering this.
What do you do?
A) Try to restore structural integrity with additional pickle slices. B) Eat faster. C) Admit that it's only going to get worse. Get out a knife and fork. D) Apply pressure to turn the gloppy mess into a ball o' food and try to eat it that way. E) Remind yourself not to use a collective pint of condiments next time. F) Were 14 juicy tomato slices too many? G) There's really nothing you can do because if you loosen your grip even slightly with either hand, it's all over. H) Other.