Sandwich

While we use a delicious aged Cheddar, this sandwich will be a success with other cheeses, too, as long as they have a big presence, such as a sharp Gouda (no subtle fontinas or mozzarellas); because the cheese is the star of the sandwich, it needs to stand up to the other flavors. Use just enough smoked ham to balance the cheese and poached pear. Use a very thin layer of mustard on the bread, right next to the cheese. The bread in this instance should be something nutty and fruity. The tartness of the dried cranberries in our bread is a great addition to the sandwich, so if you don’t have them in your bread, you could add them to the poaching liquid when you prepare the pears.

This is one of Tom’s favorites, one that showcases how a sandwich can be adapted from a meal. The meal here is French onion soup. Whereas in the soup the onion is the star, with the crouton and cheese to support it, in the sandwich we flip that: the onions serve as the relish. We roast the onions very slowly, caramelizing them, until dark golden brown to balance the assertive and pungent Gruyère. With the rye bread to hint at the Alsatian origin of the soup, we end with something rustic and homey, and yet something that, unlike soup, can be enjoyed while walking down the street.

This delicate little indulgence makes a marvelous treat; cut up into little squares, it’s perfect party fare. We were already considering creating a grilled cheese sandwich with fontina when one of our purveyors came to us with the white truffle fondue. Unlike many truffle oil products, this fondue is made with real truffles. We tried it . . . and loved it. It is the ideal complement to the mellow flavor of fontina and the fresh Pullman bread. We wanted to add some sautéed mushrooms, and chose the black trumpets for their low moisture content and springy texture. If you find them fresh—which can be difficult, even in season—rinse them well to get rid of all the grit.

Here’s one for a party: Roast a large piece of beef and feed a big crowd. If your gathering is in the backyard, toss the onions in the marinade and grill them until they’re a little bit charred. But if you are cooking the onions indoors, roast them in a cast-iron skillet until they start to caramelize. The radish slaw—a mix of daikon and red radishes with a little bit of horseradish (a traditional condiment for roast beef)—contributes crunchy, spicy coolness. The mayo, though, is the genius of the sandwich. When you order a roast beef sandwich at a restaurant, you always hope it will come au jus—everyone loves to dip into those delicious flavors. Well, as ’wichcraft sandwiches are often eaten on the go, we let the beef rest after we roast it and then use the drippings in the mayo. You get the flavor of the dip without the drip (although, admittedly, this is still a three- or four-napkin sandwich).

This American classic is available at deli counters year-round, but at ’wichcraft, it’s a seasonal sandwich served only when local tomatoes are at their peak. For us, this is a tomato sandwich, with crisp bacon (be sure it’s good quality!) and Bibb lettuce serving almost as condiments. We use a thick slice of tomato, say 1/2 inch, well seasoned with sea salt, really good pepper, and even a little olive oil. This is one of the sandwiches for which architecture matters, so please pay attention to the assembly instructions. For a special kick, rub a peeled garlic clove over the bread before assembling. A mix of heirloom tomatoes is ideal, combining colors and tones, sweetness and acidity. Imagine a slice of red plum, a slice of green zebra, and a slice of German yellow: summer in a sandwich.

Please do not let the bad bologna sandwiches of your youth deter you from trying this sandwich. Good mortadella is silky, flavorful, and because it doesn’t require aging, usually far more affordable than most artisanal sandwich meats. Here, we balance the smooth texture and rich taste of mortadella with the bitterness of grilled radicchio. The Pistachio Vinaigrette (page 181) is a nod to the classic use of pistachios embedded in the meat.

In steak sandwiches, the meat is usually paired with onions, cheese, or similarly rich flavors. We wanted something lighter and brighter, something, say, that a person might opt for at lunchtime without needing to nap afterwards. And so we use fresh ginger (which we julienne like a vegetable rather than shred, mince, grate, or sprinkle as a spice) and cucumber, both very refreshing. While Black Chile Mayonnaise (page 177) does add a touch of richness, this is still a very light red meat sandwich.

While this sandwich is not one of our top sellers, it has its fervent followers, like those of the anchovy sandwich (see page 68). Taking our inspiration from the traditional New Orleans muffaletta—the sandwich of salty meats and tangy olive salad on a thick round roll—we often pair a fresh smoked salami similar to a sopressata with a drier saucisson sec. But you can customize your sandwich for your palate with your own favorites: prosciutto, mortadella, pancetta—any salumi will stand up nicely to the myriad flavors that burst from the marinated cauliflower salad. Don’t let the name cauliflower dissuade you—this is not the boiled bane of your childhood. Rather, it’s a textured mix of tastes in a bold marinade, with raisins and caraway seeds.

The fried onions in this recipe are sliced very thin and coated with flour to make them crisp. We wanted them to be a bit tart, but the more customary buttermilk just didn’t take the onions where we wanted them to go. So we first soak the onions in vinegar, then flour and fry them; this way they have the acidity we were after. (Think salt-and-vinegar potato chips.) The radish salad adds some heat to the equation, balancing the ensemble.

Do you know anyone who does not make chicken salad with leftover chicken? We don’t. And folks tend to want mayonnaise, some fruity sweetness and/or nuts, crunch, and texture. We’re happy to oblige. We start with our homemade Mayonnaise (page 176). And if you have not yet tried the Pickled Mustard Seeds (page 187), this chicken salad gives you the perfect excuse. We’re not sure “pickled” is the perfect term for them—they’re flavored with sugar, vinegar, and water and puff up, caviar-like. This gives the chicken salad little bubbles that pop as you eat it, as caviar does, releasing a lightly mustardy flavor. The Pickled Red Onions (page 190) lend sweet, sour, and oniony flavors, as well as texture and crunch. Frisée adds texture as well. And using Roasted Tomatoes (page 195)—a staple in our own home kitchens—makes this sandwich a year-round choice.

Let it not be said that we didn’t warn you: this is a five-napkin sandwich, tasty and light but also juicy and messy, making it great outdoor summer fare. When buying the ingredients, remember that fresh tuna should be deep red, so if it’s turning brown or gray don’t buy it. Playfully sweet and hot, peppadew peppers are perfect for the marinade; if you can’t find them, substitute pickled cherry peppers so that you retain sweetness in addition to bite. Placing it on the cutting board with the raw side up and cutting from the top down keeps the tuna from falling apart when you cut it . . . no promises from us that it will be as considerate when you bite into it a few minutes later!

With no boiled shrimp and no mayo, this shrimp salad is immediately set apart from its traditional counterpart. It’s actually closer to a scampi sandwich. Eschewing the mayo keeps the contents light and the flavor assertive. Throwing a party? As the shrimp are particularly beautiful, this recipe could also be used to make canapés.

Lobster and sweet potato: a seemingly odd couple, we know, but they have in common great textures, beautiful color, and a certain sweetness. Knowing that tarragon and lobster is a classic combination, we dress the sweet potato with a tarragon vinaigrette; the fennel adds a complementary fresh taste.

What self-respecting sandwich shop doesn’t carry a tuna sandwich? We admit that we almost didn’t. But when a magazine wanted to do an impromptu photo shoot before we opened, we had to improvise with ingredients already on hand at Craftbar. We seized a can of Sicilian tuna and added a few other items—and when we tasted the sandwich after the shoot, we realized we had a winner. Let go of the traditional tuna with lots of mayo—the mayonnaise masks the taste, a pity when using good tuna. Instead, use just a bit of lemon-flavored mayo on the bread, and season the tuna with lighter ingredients, such as the fronds of the fennel, similar in texture to dill but lending a fresher flavor to the fish.

Anchovies usually play a supporting role in a dish, typecast as the salty accent. But we just love them, so we challenged ourselves to craft a sandwich that actually features them. We knew that if we succeeded, we’d have a sandwich that could have a small but faithful following. And so it came to pass. We adapted an interesting Scandinavian preparation that paired anchovies with eggs—the richness of the eggs balances the tartness of the fish. We liked it. And, as it turns out, so does that small (but ever-growing) band of devotees we’d envisioned.

We use unripe mango here as one would a vegetable. Be sure that the mango is still hard to the touch (you should not be able to put a dimple in it) so you can then julienne it. Adding a bit of lime enhances the mango’s freshness.

Left uncooked, beets are not only crunchy and refreshing but also surprisingly substantial, making a satisfying base for this sandwich. Radish sprouts add a bit of heat as a counterpoint. And the avocado adds the needed element of richness.

Eggplant is like a sponge, soaking up whatever moisture it encounters. This, at least in part, is why it is typically breaded when fried—the bread crumbs serve as a shield to limit how much oil is absorbed. In this recipe, however, we salt the eggplant for about an hour to remove excess moisture and then fry it without a coating so it absorbs some oil. Decadent? Absolutely; the eggplant becomes luxuriously creamy and custardy. As buffalo mozzarella is a bit milder and softer than regular mozzarella, it is a perfect complement to the eggplant, but you can use whichever mozzarella you prefer. Interestingly, both the eggplant and the cheese are really the supporting cast in this sandwich; it is the relish that’s the star. The secret ingredient? Anchovies. If you need a purely vegetarian sandwich, leave them out, but they lend a subtle kick, and with the sweetness of the raisins and texture of the pinenuts, you have a picante and assertive relish.

Our regulars love this bright and flavorful vegan sandwich, especially in summer. It’s light yet absolutely satisfying. We like to cook our own chickpeas, but you can use canned—the chickpeas are a great vehicle for all of the vibrant flavors of the marinade. The red peppers provide a sweet counterpoint to the chickpeas; if you have the time, forgo the ones in the jar and roast your own (page 184). Then we add a low note (the Niçoise olives), and a high one (the confit), and finally the parsley (using whole leaves, not just a sprinkle). A final hint: toast the bread (just on the insides of the sandwich) for the perfect texture inside and out.

Caviar is often garnished with hard-boiled eggs, so why not the reverse? To enhance the taste of the eggs, cook them until the yolks are still a bit soft so they can serve as the basis for the sauce. (This obviates the need for mayo, which would mask the eggs’ flavor.) As this dish is all about the egg, use fresh farm eggs if possible. And if you wish to keep the price down, inexpensive salmon roe will substitute well for the caviar—and it looks beautiful, too.