pocket guide to sandwiches

[Julian]

I awoke today with a new dream: a dream that man would one day discover himself bored enough to compile sandwich tips, recipes, histories, pictures, facts, and that sort of thing for the purpose of delighting those few bitter wretches who can't find the time or motivation to cook, at least in the classical sense of the word.

Good ideas are always in short supply, so if you have anything those among us might find interesting, please do share. But not on my account, naturally.

And... just in case you don't feel like helping a brother out and experiencing the flood of rapturous joy associated with such tasks, I've prepared an excerpt to let you know just how important sandwiches really are...

Quote:

---

Lady Angkatell sighed. "You know Midge, I still feel one ought to do something about lunch... It seems, of course, quite heartless to sit down round the table as though nothing had happened. But after all, M. Poirot was asked to lunch – and he is probably hungry. And it can't be upsetting to him that poor John Christow has been killed, like it is to us... And I must say that though I really do not feel like eating myself, Henry and Edward must be extremely hungry after being out shooting all morning – " Edward Angkatell said, "Don't worry on my account, Lucy dear."




"You are always considerate, Edward. And then there is David – I noticed that he ate a great deal at dinner last night. Intellectual people always seem to need a good deal of food. Where is David, by the way?"




"He went up to his room," said Midge, "after he had heard what had happened."




"Yes – well, that was rather tactful of him. I daresay it made him feel awkward... Of course, say what you like, a murder is an awkward thing – it upsets the servants and puts the general routine out – we were having ducks for lunch – fortunately they are quite nice eaten cold... What does one do about Gerda, do you think? Something on a tray? A little strong soup perhaps?"




Really, thought Midge, Lucy is inhuman! And then with a qualm she reflected that it was perhaps because Lucy was too human that it shocked one so! Wasn't it the plain unvarnished truth that all catastrophes were hedged round with these little trivial wonderings and surmises? Lucy merely gave utterance to the thoughts which most people did not acknowledge. One did remember the servants, and worry about meals, and one did even feel hungry. She felt hungry herself at this very moment! Hungry, she thought, and at the same time, rather sick... A curious mixture. And there was, undoubtedly, just plain awkward embarrassment in not knowing how to react to a quiet commonplace woman whom one had referred to, only yesterday as "poor Gerda" and who was now, presumably, shortly to be standing in the dock accused of murder. "These things happen to other people," thought Midge. "They can't happen to us". She looked across the room at Edward. They oughtn't, she thought, to happen to people like Edward. People who are so very unviolent... She took comfort in looking at Edward. Edward, so quiet, so reasonable, so kind and calm.




Grudgeon entered, inclined himself confidentially and spoke in a suitably muted voice. "I have placed sandwiches and some coffee in the dining room, m' lady."




"Oh thank you, Grudgeon!"




"Really," said Lady Angkatell as Grudgeon left the room. "Grudgeon is wonderful! I don't know what I should do without Grudgeon. He always knows the right thing to do. Some really substantial sandwiches are as good as lunch – and nothing heartless about them if you know what I mean!"




"Oh Lucy, don't..."




Midge suddenly felt warm tears running down her cheeks. Lady Angkatell looked surprised, murmured: "Poor darling. It's all been too much for you." Edward crossed to the sofa and sat down by Midge. He put his arm round her. "Don't worry little Midge," he said. Midge buried her face on his shoulder and sobbed there comfortably. She remembered how nice Edward had been to her when her rabbit had died at Ainswick one Easter holidays. Edward said gently, "It's been a shock. Can I get her some brandy, Lucy?"




"On the sideboard in the dining room. I don't think – "




She broke off as Henrietta came into the room. Midge sat up. She felt Edward stiffen and sit very still. What, thought Midge, does Henrietta feel? She felt almost reluctant to look at her cousin – but there was nothing to see. Henrietta looked, if anything, belligerent. She had come in with her chin up, her colour high, and with a certain swiftness.




"Oh there you are, Henrietta," cried Lady Angkatell. "I have been wondering. The police are with Henry and M. Poirot. What have you given Gerda? Brandy? Or tea and an aspirin?"




"I gave her some brandy – and a hot water bottle."




"Quite right," said Lady Angkatell approvingly. "That's what they tell you in first aid class – the hot water bottle, I mean, for shock – not the brandy; there is a reaction nowadays against stimulants. But I think that is only a fashion. We always gave brandy for shock when I was a girl at Ainswick. Though, really, I suppose, it can't be exactly shock with Gerda. I don't know really what one would feel if one had killed one's husband – it's the sort of thing one just can't begin to imagine – but it wouldn't exactly give one a shock. I mean there wouldn't be any elements of surprise."




Henrietta's voice, icy cold, cut into the placid atmosphere. She said, "Why are you all so sure that Gerda killed John?"




There was a moment's pause – and Midge felt a curious shifting in the atmosphere – there was confusion, strain, and finally, a kind of slow watchfulness. Then Lady Angkatell said, her voice quite devoid of any inflection: "It seemed – self evident. What else do you suggest?"




"Isn't it possible that Gerda came along to the pool, that she found John – lying there, and that she had just picked up the revolver when – when we came upon the scene?"




Again there was that silence. Then Lady Angkatell asked: "Is that what Gerda says?"




"Yes."




It was not a simple assent. It had force behind it. It came out like a revolver shot. Lady Angkatell raised her eyebrows, then she said with apparent irrelevancy: "There are sandwiches and coffee in the dining room."

---

So perhaps you see my point about sandwiches, citizens?



Let me share with you one of my recent meals. A chicken, bacon, and swiss sandwich paired to a cup of butternut squash soup. Isn't it lovely, a classic combination if there ever was one. Notice the lovely browning, complements of a slow, steady ride to perfection. Notice the perfectly melted cheese, aided by its existence as paper thin layers adjunct to each slice of bread and a cat nap in the microwave after being pulled from the pan. With a dark lager parked nearby, it really doesn't get much better on a cold fall day. And yet, in its simplicity... it seems detached, like something a gourmand could toss together at the drop of a hat. "You're coming over? Oh, I was just making some sandwiches, won't you have one when you arrive?" No apologies needed for the rustic nature of the fare, only a sly complement directed towards the chef whom you have the pleasure of knowing...

 

[Shannow]

Didn't get through the AC novel the first few times.

That's a neat soup mug...you don't visit "the Grove" do you ?

I love pan fried (about 1/4 teaspoon of cultured unsalted butter), with grainy, non square bread, with a local tomato, a little sea salt, and some really well aged and a bit smelly tasty cheese.

Cook with the tomato side down first, heating the ingredients with the greatest thermal density before flipping over. That way the warn tomato cools a little, while melting it's part of the cheese.

I must admit the occasional perverse delight in nuking either a corned beef and cheese, or ham and cheese sandwich in starchy white bread...it all sort of melts into a flavoursome plain-ness.

The Earl never had a microwave.

 

[moribundman]

Originally Posted By: Shannow
you don't visit "the Grove" do you ?


I have been in the grove. I can show you pictures, but I can't post them publically.

 

[Julian]

Quote:
Didn't get through the AC novel the first few times.
Part of my strategy. I knew I wouldn't have enough left in me to cap that flight of wit for at least a day or two.

Quote:
That's a neat soup mug...you don't visit "the Grove" do you ?
Thank you... I'm afraid I'll have to plead the fifth on any perversity above ham and cheese. And BTW, if you-know-who starts passing out the home photos again, it's a sock. Be sure and tell him he looks good though.

 

[alreadygone]

Never seen anyone else use so many words to say so little..

Bob

 

[Pablo]

Originally Posted By: alreadygone
Never seen anyone else use so many words to say so little..

Bob


They are indeed, a match made in heaven,

 

[alreadygone]

"BTW, if you-know-who starts passing out the home photos again, it's a sock. Be sure and tell him he looks good though."


Always prefered a lower radiator hose myself.

Bob

 

[moribundman]

I believe we have a few socks on the BITOG forums.

 

[Julian]

Quote:
Never seen anyone else use so many words to say so little..
It's a natural talent.

The soup and sandwich special only comes with two sides, folks: forced analogies and superficial superfluousness. No substitutions please.

Quote:
I believe we have a few socks on the BITOG forums.
Oh good Lord, give me a minute. You're pretty good at getting my engine running again, but I think we both have to admit Gary A. is better at post-allocution pillow talk. Both trade-offs have their time and place in my opinion, don't really think I have a favorite. What do you think of my sandwich by the way? It has whole grain mustard on it too.

Quote:
Always prefered a lower radiator hose myself.
http://www.mojo.org/muttley/muttlaugh.wav