That's a wrap on sandwiches
Chowing down on fish as we say ciao to this experiment.
A little less than a year ago, life felt like it had been on an extended pause. It was like reaching the most unsettling part of the movie then being forced to sit and stare at the paused screen while the next part endlessly buffered. The pandemic was still raging. Lockdowns were on one of many extensions. We didn’t know a lot about the virus. People were adjusting to working from home and taking care of children without the benefit of schools, daycares, classes, or outside help. Even parks and beaches were shut down, leaving many of us without anywhere to go or anything to do. Everything felt isolated and scary. Days felt monotonous and exhausting. Even then, the end seemed nowhere in sight.
Around that time, Nate idly sent me a list of sandwiches representing every state in the U.S. I think it was intended to be a “hey look at this! We should eat some of these,” type of thing. I took it as a challenge (because, if you know me, of course I did). So, a brief discussion later and Sandwich Sundays was born. We were going to eat our way alphabetically through the list, one sandwich each Sunday from Alabama to Wyoming.
For the past 50 weeks, we never missed a Sunday, although we did flip-flop California and Colorado during a week when the world was particularly on fire. Outside of that, everything remained perfectly alphabetical and on schedule, ending this week with Wyoming’s Trout Sandwich.
The Internet had very little to offer in terms of guidance for the trout sandwich. It seems as though Wyoming just really likes its trout, any way you want to eat it. Grilled, smoked, fried, baked — whatever fish dish you wish. It felt oddly perfect for the last sandwich. Like, “here is your ingredient. You’ve spent the last 49 weeks studying sandwiches, lets see what you can do.”
So, left to our own devices, we slathered the filets with some lemon garlic butter and baked them for about thirteen minutes. We put the trout between toasted ciabatta bread and served it alongside a lightly dressed coleslaw. Perfection. This isn’t going to be my go-to sandwich by any means, but it was a really solid representation of a sandwich done right. The bread was perfectly suited for the protein. The toppings were minimal. The main ingredient had a chance to shine. And above all, it was (unexpectedly) tasty. 50 weeks ago I made a scowly face when I saw we ended on a trout sandwich. Now I’ll happily give that sandwich a satisfactory nod.
Throughout this journey, we were far from perfect. But I’d say we did a hell of a job doing the best we could. We made 46/50. We made the executive decision to order the French Dip (California), the Reuben (Michigan), the Italian Sub (New Jersey), and the Banh Mi (Washington). We felt those were all sandwiches that could be equally as or better represented by places that made them well vs. us doing them at home.
Our BBQ was all BBQ adjacent. We don’t have access to a grill or smoker (apartment life, FTW), so the Pulled Chicken with White Sauce (Alabama), Kalua Pork (Hawaii), Pulled Pork (North Carolina), and Pulled Pork with Gold Sauce (South Carolina) were all made in the crockpot with liquid smoke added to give it that authentic-barbecue-adjacent feel.
I mean, there’s only so much you can do from an apartment in Los Angeles. For Kansas’ sandwich, we bought “Burnt Ends” from a place 45 minutes away from us only to find out it was more like “shredded brisket.” I guess there aren’t enough people in L.A. who know good barbecue to call them out on that B.S. On that note, we bought brisket for Texas’ sandwich. It was good brisket. It wasn’t Texas brisket.
Along the way, we learned how to make perfectly pulled pork, the difference between the different types of BBQ in our country, how to kill and steam a lobster (Connecticut and Maine), shuck clams (well, Nate did) (Rhode Island) and how to fry just about anything. We found recipes for bomb-ass sauces, the best fried chicken, and the best biscuits we’ve ever had (Oregon). We found a new favorite topping for burgers (here’s looking at you, hatch green chiles (New Mexico)). We discovered that we don’t love pimento cheese (Georgia), or country ham (Virginia), or in my case, Muffelettas (Louisiana) — olives, man, I just can’t do them.
We found out that we’re fancy folk and love us a Connecticut Hot Lobster Roll. Nate also found out that you have to make those at home if you want the right lobster-to-roll ratio. I personally found out I love Reubens and Cubanos. We were pleasantly surprised that the Loose Meat Sandwich (Iowa) is way better than its name suggests. We think Tennessee’s Elvis sandwich is best served as a breakfast treat and that peanut butter and anything sandwiches should never be on a list like this. I mean, they’re fine, but they’re like food staples and aren’t bringing anything new or exciting to the sandwich table.
We now have a few sandwiches up our sleeves that are perfect for impressing guests (Kentucky Hot Brown, Connecticut Hot Lobster Roll, Cubano). We’ve tried meats that we’ve never tried before (South Dakota’s Pheasant Sandwich). We made fancy condiments and toppings from scratch (Illinois’ Italian Beef). We tried — and failed comically hard — to make authentic bread to go with sandwiches (Pennsylvania’s Cheesesteak). We’ve made sandwiches worthy of breakfast (West Virginia’s Sausage Biscuit), Lunch (Wisconsin’s grilled cheese), and dinner. We had unexpected delights (Vermont’s Vermonter, Delaware’s Bobbie), and sandwiches that were hard and fast “never-agains” (Arkansas’ Fried Bologna, Colorado’s misfire for representation, the Denver Sandwich, Arizona’s Navajo Taco which, since I’m on my final soapbox is also NOT A SANDWICH).
This has been one hell of an (almost) year. I wouldn’t recommend living through a pandemic to anyone, but if you had to (because you just don’t get a say in these things sometimes), I’d highly suggest taking this on as a project. It gave us something to look forward to and plan. It allowed us to try new things and acquire new skills and tastes. It was (mostly) incredibly tasty. The list wasn’t perfect and absolutely did dirty by a few states, but it was a nice guide to have along the way.
So a final sandwich cheers to you, reader. May the things you put between sliced bread bring you as much joy as working our way through this list brought us.
Final thoughts? Share ‘em while you’ve got ‘em!
I’m going to miss your sandwich write ups! They are marvelous ♥️