the po'k sammitch of yr dreams
(this one's for you, paul boll)
unlike me, my wife _never_ dreams about food, so when she does, it's a bona fide _event_ at my house.
one night last week, she dreamed she was eating a roast pork sandwich with "some kind of sweet chutney and an herb that looked like fennel." when she reported this, i took it as _my mission_ to try and replicate the experience for her in a conscious state.
the herb dude at central market said it wasn't fennel; apparently, you don't eat the tops of those, you eat the big bulbous thing at the bottom. feh. he suggested dill; no dice. too bitter. we finally settled on sweet basil, which we happen to have copious quantities of growing in the back yard.
the roast pork in question was rubbed with garlic and rosemary. we sliced the leftover slab into quarter-inch pieces.
in the dream, the bread was thick and crusty. we used our fave three-seed bread from that market whose name i said before, where we also found an apple-cranberry chutney with big pieces of fruit swimming in it.
once the bread was toasted, one slice was spread with a thin layer of chutney, just enough for the diced basil to adhere to. then the pork was laid on. the top slice of bread got a more generous portion of the chutney.
while it didn't make the top of our sandwich hit parade (that distinction is reserved for a bacon, lettuce, and tomato with avocado slices -- a b.l.a.t.!), she said it was every bit as good as the one in the dream. and that, gentle readers, is good enough for me.
unlike me, my wife _never_ dreams about food, so when she does, it's a bona fide _event_ at my house.
one night last week, she dreamed she was eating a roast pork sandwich with "some kind of sweet chutney and an herb that looked like fennel." when she reported this, i took it as _my mission_ to try and replicate the experience for her in a conscious state.
the herb dude at central market said it wasn't fennel; apparently, you don't eat the tops of those, you eat the big bulbous thing at the bottom. feh. he suggested dill; no dice. too bitter. we finally settled on sweet basil, which we happen to have copious quantities of growing in the back yard.
the roast pork in question was rubbed with garlic and rosemary. we sliced the leftover slab into quarter-inch pieces.
in the dream, the bread was thick and crusty. we used our fave three-seed bread from that market whose name i said before, where we also found an apple-cranberry chutney with big pieces of fruit swimming in it.
once the bread was toasted, one slice was spread with a thin layer of chutney, just enough for the diced basil to adhere to. then the pork was laid on. the top slice of bread got a more generous portion of the chutney.
while it didn't make the top of our sandwich hit parade (that distinction is reserved for a bacon, lettuce, and tomato with avocado slices -- a b.l.a.t.!), she said it was every bit as good as the one in the dream. and that, gentle readers, is good enough for me.
posted by stashdauber at 9:48 PM
1 Comments:
damn, i thought I was the only one who dreamt about roast pork! never heard of one like that but it sounds very happening. living my whole existence in philadelphia, i hear so much blabber about the cheesesteak that i think a lot of folks often forget that we're one of the #1 east coast spots for a real italian roast pork sammie. throw them gravy coated slices of slow roasted swine down on a big italian roll with some imported sharp provelone and a little broccoli rabe, and you got yourself a righteous chow indeed! dammit, now i'm hungry.
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