Sandwich

A crouton is not only a little cube of bread you use in salads or for stuffing, but a perfectly toasted slice that makes a wonderful side dish and a sensational way to use stale bread.

Piquillo peppers are wood-roasted peppers from Spain, sold in cans or jars. If you cannot find them, substitute homemade roasted peppers or canned “pimientos.”

If you have leftover roast pork, especially from Lechon Asado, this is how to use it. Combined with ham, Swiss cheese, and pickles, it makes the classic grilled sandwich of the Latin Caribbean. Though purists insist on Cuban bread (essentially a fairly soft French loaf), the best I ever had was in San Juan, made on a sweet roll. A definite bastardization but one that demonstrated that almost any kind of bread will do and that this sandwich is great in many guises. Ordinary yellow mustard is the norm for this, but consider Dijon or brown mustard instead. Similarly, bad dill pickles are standard, but if you can lay your hands on some half-sour pickles (or use Lightly Pickled Cucumbers, page 455), the results will be better— if less “authentic.”

Bruschetta is toast. Usually with olive oil. Often grilled. But no more than that—or not much more. You need coarse, crusty bread; the preceding recipe will give you the kind you want, but any peasant bread will do. The amount of garlic you use is up to you. You might split a single clove and rub it on the slices of bread after they’re toasted; or you might mash a few cloves and smear them on, which is obviously stronger.

Sound like just about the least appealing dessert you’ve ever encountered? That’s exactly what I thought when I was offered it in Istanbul. But you know what? I crave it. Whenever you have good cherries, sweet or sour, this is worth considering. And the most difficult part is pitting the cherries.

This is my cross-cultural take on a frequently served Swedish snack. If you’re making the North African mantecaos specifically for this dish, you might omit the cumin, but I think they’re more interesting with it. You can also make these with standard biscuits, in which case they’re pretty simple.

This “caviar,” most commonly spread on toast, is little more than sautéed mushrooms, but with an unusual texture and a decidedly Russian character. Do not mince the mushrooms too finely or they will become pasty.

In pais Vasco—Basque country—many tapas are substantial and filling. This meets that requirement, but it is also quick and simple. I once had it made with chanterelles, which of course produced a sublime version. If you can get them, or other wild mushrooms, the dish will be really special, but it’s quite wonderful with shiitakes. As for an omelet, you can put most anything you want in here; especially good is about a cup of chopped shrimp added just before the eggs. You can serve this on toast or bread, as is often done in tapas bars, or just by itself. It also makes a fine main course for two.

In Sweden these little fish “sandwiches” are made with Baltic herring, but you can make them with any small fish from which you can remove the backbone, such as smelts, anchovies, and sardines (the names of all of these fish are confused anyway—many true herring and anchovies are called sardines and vice versa). To bone these fish, grasp the head and pull straight down; most of the innards will come out along with it; use your thumb to open the fish up from the front, then grasp the backbone and remove. You’ll be left with two tiny fillets joined by the skin. Plan to make eight of these—four sandwiches—for each serving if you make them as a main course.

Salt cod is an ancient food, the result of a need to preserve plentiful catch while still at sea. It has been used in many different ways, but one of the greatest is brandade de morue, a Provençal classic that is rich, filling, and truly special. Though salt cod isn’t available everywhere, it can be found in many supermarkets, without much trouble, and making brandade is easier than ever thanks to the food processor (use a mortar and pestle if you insist on tradition). Brandade can be served with crusty bread, spread on Crostini (page 41), or stuffed into roasted tomatoes or peppers, especially piquillo peppers (page 492 or 47).

Peppers and anchovies are a delicious standby appetizer, and when you use piquillos (page 47) and good anchovies (page 25)—packed in olive oil—they become even better. If you think using the garlic this way may be too strong for your tastes, simply cut a clove in half and rub the bread with it, then discard—or omit the garlic altogether.

You can use leftover pork (or any meat, really), for these canapés, because its flavor is not the most important thing here. What is important are the piquillos and the manchego. Without these the dish has no authenticity. That said, this is a great basic recipe combining meat, cheese, and pepper, and you can substitute for any of them—I especially like this with a bit of chorizo and a strong blue cheese. If you start with raw pork tenderloin, cut it into 4 slices and brown it in a little olive oil in a nonstick skillet over medium-high heat for about 3 minutes per side.

A typical topping for crostini (and not a bad dish on its own), this hearty combination makes a great starter for a vegetarian meal. Cannellini beans are traditional here, but any white bean will work. The spread and bread may be made well in advance, but don’t combine them until just before serving.

Crostini is toast—no big deal. Yet it serves as a perfect base for dips and spreads, from Tapenade (page 604) to Fresh Tomato Salad (page 172). Good, too, with ricotta or goat cheese blended with chopped parsley or basil; tomato, country ham (like prosciutto), and olive oil; Brandade de Morue (page 56); or Canapés with Piquillo Peppers and Anchovies (page 48). Parsley or basil is always welcome as a garnish. If you’re making just a few crostini, you can use a toaster oven, but for large quantities a grill or oven works best. The toasted bread itself will keep for an hour or so; don’t top it until you’re ready or nearly ready to eat.

Along with Spanish food in general, these have become increasingly popular in the States, and they’re fun, rewarding, and easy to make at home. Of course, the key is to begin with superfresh anchovies, and we are finally seeing more of these. (You can use the same method with fresh thin fillets of mackerel, a more common fish, or with smelts, which can be handled the same way as the anchovies.) These are good served on buttered toast or crackers and passed as a snack. You might wonder why your boquerones are not as white as those sold in restaurants; it’s because you’re not using a bleaching agent.

This sandwich was my grandfather’s favorite sandwich for merenda, the midmorning snack. My grandmother would use the prosciutto scraps with bits and pieces of fat, and when there was no prosciutto, she would use pancetta.

This great and easy sandwich could serve you well for breakfast, lunch, or a picnic. Basically, it is scrambled eggs with onions and asparagus. I prefer thin asparagus for this dish, since I recall making it with wild asparagus that I would go and forage every spring with my grandmother. Here in the States, asparagus is farmed abundantly. Wild asparagus is more bitter than the farmed variety, but I love any fresh asparagus. I sometimes use scallions instead of onions, including two-thirds of the green part of the scallion stalks as well.

Everybody can relate to a sausage-and-pepper submarine sandwich being Italian American, since it is served at every street fair in the Northeast. The use of peppers with sausages is not as prevalent in Italy as it is in the Italian American community here, but this is a delicious dish. Imagine turning it into breakfast, especially on a morning when you have a few extra mouths to feed. The recipe is easy to prepare, because the sausage is taken out of its casings and crumbled into the pan, and everything else is added to it. You just scramble it all together; do not worry about making a perfectly round frittata here.

Sausage and broccoli rabe are a marriage destined to last. Often served with pasta, most commonly orecchiette, this recipe is for quick, easy, hearty sandwiches with some greens in them.

This is a unique rendition (and spelling) of veal parmigiana that I had in Rigazzi’s, one of the oldest restaurants on The Hill in St. Louis. It exemplifies the frugality and the ingenuity of those early immigrants. Instead of expensive veal cutlets, they ground lesser, tougher cuts of veal, then shaped them and treated them like a veal cutlet; the result was delicious and tender! At Rigazzi’s, it was the special of the day when we visited.