Open faced sandwiches can be beautifully stacked creations, but when squeezed into a lunch-bag, carried by 10-year olds biking to school in a backpack and thrown in a community refrigerator, open-faced sandwiches may not be the first choice of lunch.
Not so for my mom. She was a firm believer in open-faced sandwiches and made them as if I was eating at home, except, she wrapped them tight in cellophane wrap before stacking them in my lunch box.
As you might image, the end result was not always… appetizing. Cod roe sandwiches with remoulade and fried onions turned into cud roe salad with wet soggy onions. A once tantalizing potato sandwich with mayonnaise and green onions turned into something wet and soggy, almost like paste.
This sandwich, a cod roe creation, is my own personal rebellion against my childhoods school sandwiches. I reject the cellophane wrap method, and embrace exuberance.
Growing up, I believe I had ham and cheese sandwiches maybe three times. My mom had found a recipe in a cookbook, and one day she announced she was going to make me a Hawaiian sandwich (The recipe included a piece of slices pineapple from a can, thus Hawaii). It was great, but once you open a can of pineapples you are committed to doing something with the remaining 9 slices, so my mom quickly stopped making the sandwich. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream about it (the dream also involved Jay Leno having purchased a personal Nuclear Missile painted bright red with warning signs, which was bolted down in his back yard with chains. Don’t ask, it was a dream). As you can imagine, it got stuck in my subconsciousness. I know, dreaming of sandwiches probably means we’re spending too much time writing this blog. Anyway, here is my variation of a Ham and Cheese Sandwich, without the pineapple.
When I was a kid, every other weekend I would spend with my dad and my step-mom. They lived in an old house in a residential neighborhood outside Copenhagen, with a great big yard with lots of plants and flowers and tables tucked away in corners. We always ate lunch outside when the weather was good, and I remember at the time I didn’t like it that much because of the bees, but it really was an amazing place to enjoy a good meal.
When I came visiting, often the first thing that greeted me was the smell of baked liver Pâté. My step-mom made the best liver Pâté I’ve ever had, and while it baked the whole house would take on the flavor and everyone would start gathering in the kitchen when we knew it was just about time to remove it from the oven. Ten minutes before, we would start toasting some dark rye bread and setup lunch outside. We would all gather the plates, cutlery and work together as a team, knowing that the reward was just around the corner.
The sound of the old timer’s bell chiming was the most wonderful thing you’ll ever hear. As we sat outside in the sun, making our warm liver pâté sandwiches, a silence fell as we enjoyed that first bite.
Perhaps I make it sound overly romantic, but that’s my own experience with this pate. My step-mom’s secret ingredient was curry, and she never gave it away. A few years ago cancer overcame her, and we thought her recipe was lost forever. However, a couple of months ago while I was visiting Denmark, I asked my sister again if she had found the recipe, and to my surprise she had. Tucked away in a pile of papers that had gone unnoticed for years, there it was.
So now, for the first time in maybe 15 years, this pâté which I have named Maria’s Liver Pâté after my step-mom, has finally seen the light of day again.
And once more, the house smells like childhood and summer and bees and flowers, and everything is as it should be.
Contrary to what you might believe from reading the rest of this blog, sometimes we do enjoy the simple sandwiches. This one is about as simple as it gets: Bread and butter, salami and cheese. The only trick is to get good quality ingredients, freshly made bread, Italian salami with a great taste, and a fantastic cheese such as this Danish one called “Helge”. Yes, in Denmark cheeses have people-names. Go figure. Don’t even attempt this one if your bread is not fresh by the way, it will ruin your day.
This is another of those recipes that we have to add to this otherwise exclusive sandwich blog. These Danish meatballs are great for sandwiches, and will be used in some of our other posts. They also happen to be the national food of Denmark, and is consumed by everyone by bulk. They are great with mashed potatoes (Which in turn is great on mashed potato sandwiches), or as a side to a salad. Total cooking time is about 50 minutes, some of which is spent waiting for the meat to cool down before frying. Simple.Easy.Good.
While this recipe is ingrained as part of the danish culture, we notices that some american blogs have also gotten a hold of it, most noticeably the excellent simply recipes which we love to read. It’s nice to see these easy and excellent frikadeller spreading out in the world.
I loooove Saturdays. They are rife with possibilities. After a long work week devoted to other people’s pursuits (namely those of my job), I look forward to enjoying the simple things that bring me pleasure. Chief among them is lazily meandering through one of the many farmers’ markets that dot the San Diego landscape. Last weekend, it was time to revist my local market in Poway. For me, the market is all about the fresh fruits and veggies… and the Thai coconut pancakes – conveniently sized to be just about 1 1/2 inches in diameter, I can pop them in my mouth and eat them whole. Yum, that’s the way to start a weekend. For Anders, the market is most pleasurable when it involves the pursuit or serendipitous discovery of meat. This week, he found some salami made from locally farmed pork. Nothing like supporting the local farmers…makes me feel connected not just to my food, but also to my community. So in a complete diversion from my normal breakfast fruit bowl, Sunday morning’s breakfast was a tomato and hard boiled egg sandwich topped with salami slices.
I consider this a variation on the veterinarians midnight snack, a classic Danish sandwich (In Danish: ‘Dyrlægens natmad‘. Try saying that one!). The bones of Anders’ Viking ancestors will rattle in their graves to protest me saying this, but in this variant, the inclusion of the roasted garlic and the removal of the aspic is a HUGE improvement. Together, those simple actions make this sandwhich palatable for me, a non-Dane. Anders thinks this presentation is a bit more playful, looking a bit like a rib cage or something medieval. I suppose, it’s his attempt at appeasing the spirits 🙂 It consists of liver pate on home-baked rye bread with butter, with a rolled up slice of ham. This is topped with half-moon slices of onion rings, roasted garlic and a couple of dill pickles. Fennel seeds and ground black pepper spices it up a bit.
I have to admit I was looking forward to this beauty before we even started making the smoked spareribs. In fact, while we passed the Costco food isle, I saw this great spare ribs sale and I couldn’t help thinking of what a fantastic sandwich I could make with the leftovers. So, a couple of days later, after feasting on the ribs I finally got around to making this. I wanted to really bring out the flavor of the pork, while adding some classic ‘steak’ flavors on top. So, sautéed mushrooms and sweet chili sauce plus of course a few onion rings for the crunch factor.
Quite frankly, this isn’t much of a sandwich, much less amazing. It’s specifically made for children in Denmark, and is a typical sandwich they would take to school. It ranks just one notch above the infamous “sugar sandwich”, which is at the bottom of the sandwich pile. However, if you want to feel like a Danish kid, have one of these, then move on 🙂
The roast beef sandwich is yet another classic piece of smørrebrød. Generous layers of roast beef are stacked with remoulade, capers, sweet dill pickles, fried onions, salt and pepper. It comes with a variety of options, such as different smears (duck fat, butter, roasted garlic or mustard like this one). Typically it also has a nice little dash of shredded horseraddish, but I couldn’t find any on the day I made this.