Alpine Favourite, or Sardine Sandwiches

Eleanor was a strict Catholic. Her family emigrated from Poland not long before she was born, and as a first-generation citizen, she took the role of religion in her everyday life very seriously in the way that only a newly-minted American can. When Eleanor was on vacation, she searched out Catholic churches to attend on Sundays so that she would never miss a week of mass. In the letters that Wilbur, her husband, wrote to her during World War II, he frequently assures her that he's attending church every week so she needn't worry about his soul. When I was a kid I loved looking at the stack of funeral cards that belonged to Eleanor, and which my mom kept tucked into my grandpa's Bible, each of them with a beautiful (I thought) painting of Mary on one side and a prayer for the soul of the departed on the other. Eleanor had a saint for everything, so it should come as no surprise that my mom was in her twenties before she ever ate meat on a Friday. Lent or no, Eleanor served fish on Fridays and would sooner have eaten the paint on the walls than meat on a Friday.

I learned a new thing!

So although I can't imagine her ever going through the work that this sandwich requires for her entire family, it's possible she did. And if she did, it would have been on a Friday.

Sardines get a really bad rap, and I'm not gonna try to defend the canned ones, because tinned fish overall is a touchy subject. My mom is probably already so grossed out by this concept that she's already stopped reading, but hear me out on this one: there's a reason sardines persist in grocery stores, cartoons, and restaurant menus (at least in the UK), and it's because they're a relatively cheap but still totally delicious fish. The fact that they come in tins is sort of irrelevant, and it means you don't have to cook them, which is grand.

The weird thing is that this recipe is called 'Alpine Favourite,' when I'm pretty sure sardines live in saltwater and thus not particularly near the Alps.

Plus, I learned a new thing: how to sieve an egg yolk. It sounds like it would be simple, but since I only have one mesh strainer that's fairly large, it took a bit of getting used to. If you make this sandwich, to sieve the yolk, just hard-boil an egg until it's cooked all the way through-- no juicy yellow bit in the middle. For me, this was 8 minutes in boiling water, and then another 3 in the hot water left on the stove while I tended to other things. Peel your egg and cut it in half. Gently scoop out one yolk half at a time and place in the bottom of your strainer. Holding the strainer over the surface you want to cover in sieved egg and using the back of a spoon, press firmly but evenly on the yolk and let it sprinkle down onto the surface. Keep using smooth motions to press the entire yolk through until there is none left, then do the same thing with the other half of the yolk. Note that you can't really re-locate sieved egg once it's been sprinkled somewhere, so try to do it directly over the surface where you want it to be.

The verdict:

4 spoons out of five. The sandwich was just a little bit dry, but I'll fix that next time with a bit more mustard. Seriously, give this one a try. The flavours play off of each other beautifully, with the hard-boiled egg, mustard, and cornichon accenting the sardines just perfectly. Honestly, it reminded me of every meal I ate in Copenhagen when we were there a few years ago, and trust me, that's a good thing.

the recipe:

Alpine Favourite, or, Sardine Sandwiches

the ingredients:

2 slices bread
Spicy English Mustard
Leaf lettuce
2 slices Swiss cheese
2 cornichon pickles, sliced lengthwise
1 tin best-quality sardines
1 egg, hard-boiled

THE Directions:

Toast the bread.
Spread with mustard and lay a leaf or two of lettuce over it.
Add cheese (preferably sliced into triangles), cornichons, and 1 ½ sardines per sandwich.
Sieve the hard-boiled egg yolk over the open-faced sandwich, top with the other slice of toast, and enjoy.

Yields 2 open-faced sandwiches, perfect for dinner with a salad.

Wind Pudding, or Pineapple Marshmallow Concoction

This week marks the six month anniversary of this blog, which is pretty cool. That means I've made 72 dishes from the box including 6 cheesecakes (with another on the way this week!), 2 disasters, and one boozy drink.

I've taken a lot of pictures, learned where the best light in my kitchen is, and found a workable substitute for shortening. I got a job, went on holiday (3 times!), and celebrated both an anniversary and a birthday with key lime pie. I've also barely put a dent in the total recipes in the box, but I'm trying to go easy on myself on that front-- it took Eleanor 40 years to collect 'em, so as long as I get through them faster than that, I'm still winning, right?

In honour of the six-month-iversary (demiversary?) of this blog, here's some potty humour for you: Eleanor was so painfully proper that she referred to bodily functions as 'chi-chi' and 'boo-boo.' Even when she was potty-training her own kids, that's the only way she ever referred to using the bathroom. Before you ask, no, I do not know which one was 'chi-chi,' and I'm pretty sure I'm ok with that.* Anyway, I always thought those were the two dumbest names I had ever heard of for anything related to... you know. But then I moved to Scotland and learned the phrase 'trapped wind,' which means... well, I'll leave it to your imagination and just say that it's not fit conversation for a food blog. A co-worker of Judson's taught it to him one day and ever since it's become the Scottish phrase that most cracks us up, despite how gross it is. If you ever come visit us in Scotland, just know that the word wind has a whole different meaning for us now.

So of course when I found a recipe for Wind Pudding in the box, I was immediately as tickled as an 11-year-old boy, especially when I realised it's literally a 3-ingredient recipe that sounds (and, in fact, is) terrible.

When I made this, it was a miserable failure. Although I'll be the first to admit that I regularly suffer from cooking-related mishaps, I have a hard time believing this one was my fault. I really think that marshmallows in Scotland are just different than their American counterparts. Seriously: I think American marshmallows are mostly vegetarian these days, but the ones here-- which are much more delicious, in my humble opinion-- are still made with beef gelatin, which renders them chewier and stiffer than American ones, and, in this case, less likely to melt in pineapple juice. I think the marshmallows in the recipe were supposed to kind of dissolve in the pineapple, then the whipped cream would have made the entire mixture like a creamy Dole Whip. But instead, the marshmallows just swelled slightly, holding their shape and texture, and just sitting on top of the pineapple, which was now extra-dry because the spongey marshmallows soaked up all the juice. It's also possible that the size of the marshmallows contributed to this problem-- mini marshmallows have not yet been invented in Scotland, apparently, so I had to use regular-sized ones. Although the recipe doesn't specify the marshmallows should be miniature, I can't imagine it would have hurt.

Even Judson turned up his nose at this, and Judson loves marshmallows.

In conclusion, I have no idea what the 'wind' in wind pudding is referring to. Was it a reference to the tropical breezes of Florida and the fact that they carry with them the sweet smells of tropical fruit, like pineapples? Or was it referring to the air in the marshmallows? I don't know, and I failed at this recipe, big time. Don't make this recipe. Please.

*As a kid, my mom made the grave mistake of telling me this, and I've still never passed a bottle of Chi-Chi's salsa without giggling.

The verdict:

1 spoon out of five. This is the dumbest recipe that exists.

The recipe:

Wind Pudding

the directions:

Soak marshmallows in pineapple overnight.
The next day, whip the cream.
Fold whipped cream into pineapple mixture gently.
Take a bite and then immediately wish that you hadn't.

the ingredients:

1 can crushed pineapple
1 cup marshmallows
½ c whipped cream

America's Favourite Hot One, or, The BLT Sandwich

'America's favourite hot what?' you may be asking. 'I don't know' is the answer, because this isn't even a hot sandwich.

I suppose it's time for a bit of a confession, dear readers: as a kid, I hated tomatoes, and then I got older and hated mayonnaise, and so the years passed and I made it through almost three whole decades without ever eating a BLT. Well, no more, friends! And now I'm a convert. Except, in this case, BLT actually stands for 'British Lettuce and Tomato,' because, as we've discussed before, American bacon is just not available over here in Scotland. The tomatoes over here are so much better than the ones in the US, though-- sweeter, more flavourful, and cheaper-- so I guess it's an even trade.

Anyway, this is the kind of meal to make on a night where you have fun plans that don't start until late in the evening-- like us, last night. It's simple but filling, and even though there's no way you can consider this a healthy sandwich, at least one of the main ingredients is a vegetable-- so you're not totally off base having it before a night of partying.

Plus, other than 'Tossed Salad, Four Ways,' this is officially my favourite recipe name I've come across so far. And although this is the first time in my life I've garnished a sandwich with an olive, I think from now on I'm going to demand that all my sandwiches come that way. They're at least 13% more delicious than standard sandwiches, so consider it next time you're making your lunch.

If you're in the UK, you can use lardons to make this, like we did, but it might not be the most useful way to make a sandwich since they're so small that they tend to roll out. Alternately, you could buy pancetta in strips and saute it briefly, then use that (which tastes like a thinner, crisper version of American bacon). But most of all, if you're in the UK, don't ever taste American bacon, or you'll never be able to get used to existing in a world without it.

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. This recipe is amazing, and you should go home and make it for dinner immediately. Don't wait 29 and a half years to have your first BLT.

The recipe:

Bacon, Lettuce, and Tomato Sandwich

The ingredients:

4 slices of bread
Mayonnaise
2 large lettuce leaves
2 slices cheddar cheese
2 medium-size tomatoes, sliced
4 slices of pancetta or American bacon, or a handful of lardons
4 green olives

the directions:

Toast the bread and spread 2 slices with a thin layer of mayonnaise.
Lay one slice of lettuce on each mayonnaise layer.
Layer slices of cheddar on top of lettuce, followed by tomato, bacon, and the other slices of bread.
Garnish with two olives speared on a toothpick.

Yields 2 sandwiches

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