It’s 7:30 Tuesday evening, and I’ve just finished what is easily…hands down…without question, the best sandwich I’ve ever had in my life. Surprisingly enough it contained no traces of bacon or rendered duck fat, no fancy-schmancy dressed up spreads, no cheese whatsoever, and no semblance of cold cut or other meat product, either. None of this gilding and yet worth more to me than the world’s most expensive sandwich, which clocks in at just about $200 for 3 levels of chicken (Poulet de Bresse), ham, hard-boiled quails’ eggs and white truffles.
While two pieces of bread toasted, I ran out to the garden—dodging the massive raindrops that threatened to leave a damned dent in my skull—and quickly plucked one perfectly ripe Early Girl tomato and a few leaves of basil, both still warm from the day’s sun. The tomato got sliced, placed on one piece of toast, and then topped with the basil. The other piece of toast got a nice dose of extra virgin olive oil, and a sprinkling of maldon salt and ground pepper. That’s it. Nothing else. Nada. Zilch. Zip. But that perfect alchemy of nature…that ethereal combination of ingredients…uhh. Impossible to describe, and trying to simply wouldn’t do it any justice anyhow.
All I could do was sit there and moan with every bite, while my husband, lost in a pile of paperwork at the kitchen table, gawked at me incredulously. Much to his dismay, I offered him none, until that last bite sat poised between my finger and thumb and I had realized my lack of manners. “You want it?”
“What, that last tiny bite after you wolfed down the whole thing, groaning with ecstasy every time you swallowed?!”
“No? OK, fuck it.” Hence, no photo to go with the post. Sometimes, the world falls away, and it’s just you and a perfect sandwich, in a moment of sheer selfishness that you’re pretty sure won’t screw up your karma anymore than you already have all on your own.
{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
Sounds delightful.
I am allergic to tomatoes but I eat them anyway. They taste kind of odd to me and often burn like cheap whiskey on the way down (espc pasta sauce). I always wonder how they taste to other people. I have a theory that you taste something different than I do.
That said, I do enjoy them in salad, on burgers and sandwiches, and I make good spaghetti.
mmmmmmmmextasy
Tomatoes can be really acidic which I’m guessing is what you react to, Mike?! This was sweet and gushing with flavor. Can still taste it!
I’m guessing your tomato is more similar to those I knew from childhood in the midwest. Big. Juicy. Sweet. Even young adulthood was good with tomatoes from the south. But I have not had a tomato worth mentioning since moving to Colorado. I LOVE Colorado but laugh at the notion of someone’s Big Boy (yes, I’m talking tomato!). That sucker ‘should’ fill up a slice of bread all by itself. In Colorado a tomato that size would be called a watermelon!
Cool nights and high altitude are not conducive to the perfect tomato which I miss every summer…but stick it out here in this lousy place anyhow cause, well, something about those cool night sand the lack of mosquitoes almost make up for it.
Not that Jersey can claim many positives, but one of them is certainly its tomatoes….we grow fantastic ones here. Like you said, big, juicy and sweet. You can eat it like an apple with absolutely nothing on it whatsoever.
Katie, a couple of thoughts on yur sandwich. first I often have tomato sandwiches for lunch or dinner in the summer. I love them! I’ll have to give your recipe a try. For me it is back to the trailer park, but I don’t care and i don’t care who knows it. Two slices of toast, sliced tomato, miracle whip, and sometimes a piece of cheese. That is it! I love it and I am in heaven every time I eat one.
Last story is one from my Dad. As a kid growing up in the 40s he and his hooligan friends used to keep salt shakers in their pockets, then like a plague of locusts would run between the neighborhood victory gardens stealing tomatoes and eating them like apples with their portable salt garnish. The simple joys of a simpler time!
The basil is the perfect partner for the tomato….I honestly don’t think I’ve ever tasted things that complement each other better. And though I love mayo on say a BLT, this just doesn’t ask for it…it’s kinda like a Caprese salad, just in a sandwich, with the bread replacing the mozarella, LOL.
And I guess your dad and I would get along pretty well cuz when I was a kid I used to do the same thing, only with guavas and mangoes!
I had a pizza the other day that reminded me of your sandwich. Light and airy, the crust was very thin and crispy. A little basil, sliced tomato, a couple of cheeses, and a tad of spicy Italian sausage. Yes, basil and oil and tomato. A winning combo.
Yes the acid bothers me, Katie. But if I eat much tomato my mouth feels razor cut and then the hives……..