They can be basic. They can be opulent. They can be artisanal, antique, unwieldy, oysgeputz, offensive, unfathomable, and unconquerable. But they are always, unquestionably, themselves- and require no explanation.

Sandwiches are beautiful things- a convenience food par excelence– and here are some of my favorites.

The “Italian Sub”

I could delve into the dialectic differences between calling a sandwich on a long roll of French (or occasionally Italian) bread a sub, a hoagie, or a grinder. That would be a red herring though, and herring- like mayonnaise- do not belong on this beautiful sandwich.

A long roll- ideally Atlantic City bread, where the specific mineral and salt content of the water does a certain something magical to the bread- is squirted with red wine vinegar and salad oil. A smear of hot peppers is sometimes applied. In my opinion, Cento’s pickled diced Cherry Peppers are the ideal, but I have seen banana peppers, pepperoncini, and even a spicy gardiniera well-employed here.

My fellow West Coasters will notice that this is where mayonnaise DOES. NOT. GO. Mayonnaise goes NOWHERE on this sandwich. If you find the sandwich too dry, I can only suggest you add more oil, vinegar, tomato, or just get better bread. This matter is not up for discussion.

Now we build the sandwich proper. Slices of provolone cheese are laid like a professional roofer on the bread, and then a selection of ones favorite Italian charcuterie- pepperoni, salami, capicolla, Coppa. The spendier of my readers might add Speck, Proscuitto, or some other fine meat. I won’t judge you on this, only be sure that they are sliced thin. One should not need to chew a bite free of this concoction.

Finally we add the sandwiches appeasements to the vegetable kingdom. Shredded lettuce, sliced tomato, and white onion- the famous “LTO” of menu lingo- and a hearty sprinkling of dried oregano. We can quibble on the type of lettuce or tomato here. Given what came before, these are nods of solidarity with vegetables rather than a true representation. Just be sure they are not old or limp, and you can use an “Italian Seasoning” blend for the oregano in a pinch.

What you have left is a truly beautiful experience. It’s not only a taste of my childhood, but something I dearly wish Italian-Americans would erect a statue to honor themselves with rather than that syphilis-addled genocidal bastard Christopher Columbus

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The PREC

I was born in Queens, New York. I live in Portland, Oregon- but I am from New Jersey. It is where I ate, lived, slept, and shat for the majority of my life. Specifically, I lived in South Jersey along “the Shore” near Atlantic City, so keep your “Joisey” nonsense in Hoboken. Amid our diner counters, one sandwich reigned on high from a throne befitting its presence of a seeded Kaiser roll- the Pork Roll Egg and Cheese, or “PREC.”

I am, I will repeat, from South Jersey, so the magical mystery meat product at the heart of the sandwich is called TAYLOR PORK ROLL. It is on the package. “Taylor Ham” is another dialectic difference and another red herring- which similarly doesn’t belong on this sandwich.

It starts on a Kaiser roll. Unlike its New York cousin the Bodega Sandwich, a mere hamburger bun or potato roll is too soft. You can certainly use them in a pinch, but if we are being honest there are few situations where that would be necessary. Those would be either, first, you are on the West Coast where they do not know better or second, you simply can’t find worthwhile Kaiser rolls. Even then, if you are buying yourself Taylor Pork Roll any other place than New Jersey, you’ve already committed money to the experience. Don’t cry off when it comes to the bread.

Each slice of pork roll- at least a quarter-inch of the roll per sandwich is appropriate- is best grilled. The temptation for most of us is to use butter. Absolutely delightful… but incorrect to the spirit of the sandwich. I might wish for the flat-top grill behind that counter to be greased in the tallow of Wagyu cows and cleansed with the tears of beatified orphans, but that would be incorrect. No, it is likely pan spray- Vegalene or the like- that will get the job done on the cheap and offer the flavor of acceptance and efficacy as it cooks each slice of mystery meat and fried egg (and it IS fried. Generally hard- this is not meant to be a messy sandwich.)

American cheese is the correct cheese. No other cheese will offer the color, the stretch, the creaminess to lubricate the pork roll and thick bread. Binging With Babish offered some work-arounds in his grilled cheese videos, but again- this is the sandwich of the working man. The Utilitarian. The “I need to get to work but I need to eat something better than a Nutrigrain Bar and I’m not fussy about how.”

Attempts to update, improve, or modify such sandwichs will always miss the point. To quote my friend Tom Amick, the premier slinger of the PREC in Portland, “It’s like some of these ‘Philly Cheesesteak’ carts trying to offer ‘house cheez-whiz.’ It’s Cheez-Wiz. It comes in a can. We know this. We have accepted the bad decision we are making and don’t need some beardy man-bunned artiste putting their own ‘spin’ on it. Give us the gross thing we’ve asked for and take our f***ing money!”

A few days ago, in the winery kitchen, I made a special snack for my kitchen team. It was a Cheesy Bacon Onion Biscuit Bread that, as the name might suggest, would normally call for bacon. Instead, we had trimmings and edges of prosciutto, speck, and coppa that were destined for the garbage. Fatty, meaty, flavorful… but useless to anyone but the baker.

Yes, a fancied version of the original- but it was delicious all the same and fancied up out of necessity. None of these sandwiches should need such Extreme Unction to elevate themselves.

Stay Classy,