Tragic Sandwich

Category: Restaurants and Food

  • Blog Action Day 2011: Food

    Food is distributed so unevenly in the world. A great many of us have more than we can eat–even though we can eat quite a lot. Far too many have almost none.

    While I can’t stop the groups that use famine and food supply manipulation to starve others, I can try to waste less. So that’s my goal for this year: to reduce the amount of food I throw away. Right now my refrigerator has several containers that have sat there too long. The only thing wrong with that food is the passage of time. So now, rather than providing nourishment, it’s going into the trash. That helps no one. But I’ll do what I can at our house.

    What can you do?

    I am proud to take part in Blog Action Day Oct 16, 2011 www.blogactionday.org

  • Mom-to-Mom (or Dad): Lunch Time

    How do you pack lunches for your toddler? And what do you pack?

    Baguette is not a fussy eater–in fact, she has been known to enjoy a spicy dish or two. She’s starting to get intrigued by forks. That tells me that I might want to change up what I’m giving her–or maybe not.

    Every evening (supplemented by most mornings), I cut up a variety of foods and pack them into an array of containers to make the short trip to day care. My latest theory is that the correct number of containers to own is x + 2, x being the number you currently own. (This is also my theory about the correct number of sleepers/pairs of pajamas and the correct number of sippy cups.) Because somehow I could always use a couple more of the medium and large ones. Clearly I over-invested in small containers when she was just starting out with the solids, although at the time it seemed to make sense. And I’m intrigued by bento boxes, but I’d need at least two, right? Because now I have none. But I have so many containers that bento boxes seem redundant. I’m conflicted.

    And she is willing to try new things. Lately she’s taken to spaghetti, with Mr. Sandwich’s “extra garlic, basil, oregano, and hot sauce” sauce. We haven’t sent that to day care with her yet, but she does enjoy eating it from a tiny bowl while sitting on the couch. (Now, if we can just keep her from feeding it to the dog…)

    Here’s what goes to day care in a typical week: scrambled eggs, fresh fruit (she loves pears, peaches, berries, and melon), sausage, hot dogs, cheese, freeze-dried fruits, freeze-dried snap peas, cereal bars. Plus milk.

    That seems limited and limiting. She’s got no apparent food allergies, although her pediatrician has us holding off with nuts and shellfish for a while longer (her school is nut-free anyhow). So what else might we throw into the mix?

  • Five Guys Named Meh

    So in the Burger Wars, Five Guys has mounted an assault on In-n-Out. In our part of town, that means that they opened a store on the opposite side of the Costco driveway from In-n-Out.

    Five Guys is new to the area, but I know people are passionate about their burgers. And Mr. Sandwich and I are fond of a good burger, so last night we headed over to sample the offerings.

    When we walked in the door, we noticed that the floor was covered in peanut shells. We have an appreciation for the peanut-shells-on-the-floor motif, but this didn’t work. There weren’t enough peanut shells. And the floor was tile, which is the wrong surface for peanut shells (better: concrete or wood). What each of us thought was, “It looks like a dirty In-n-Out.” Mind you, there was nothing about the restaurant that seemed dirty. It actually seemed quite clean. Except the peanut shells made it look like they just hadn’t bothered to sweep for, say, three days.

    So we got in line to order our food. Each of us got a bacon cheeseburger–mine with mayo, lettuce, tomato, and grilled onion, and Mr. Sandwich’s with lettuce and BBQ sauce. Mr. Sandwich also ordered the bacon cheese dog, and we split an order of fries.

    The food was served fairly quickly, but unfortunately that’s where the positives stop. Now, I like a well-done burger. I am opposed to E. coli. (Call me crazy.) But even for me, this burger went beyond “well done” and bordered on “hockey puck.” Two hockey pucks, actually; apparently Five Guys sells doubles by default. And it turned out that the counterperson heard “tomatoes” and typed in “pickles.” But even with pickles, nothing had much flavor–not the burger, not the bacon, not the fries.

    And the fries are cooked in peanut oil. That means we can’t let Baguette have them, because she’s not supposed to eat peanuts for another couple of years, or something like that. Fortunately she slept through most of the visit (which was a little surprising, considering that they were blasting classic rock).

    So our verdict? We don’t see what the big deal is. Where Five Guys is like In-n-Out, they’re not as good. Where they’re like The Habit, they’re not as good. If they’re trying to split the difference between those two, they haven’t done so in a way that is distinctive or particularly successful. And unlike either of those competitors, they don’t offer shakes.

    It wasn’t bad. We just don’t see what the big deal is. Now, maybe if a Shake Shack comes to town…

  • Happy Birthday, Mr. Sandwich!

    We’re not really birthday people. That is, we have no objection to them, and we like to see our friends, but that’s about all the fuss we make. So for Mr. Sandwich’s 40th birthday (technically speaking, yesterday), we invited friends over on Saturday for our usual mixed grill (bacon-wrapped steaks, sausages, asparagus), along with tomato-parmesan rice salad. One of our friends brought chips and salsa, and another brought the most amazing artichoke dip I’ve ever tasted.

    Naturally, it’s not really a birthday without dessert. Mr. Sandwich’s favorite birthday cake is my Triple Sec Pound Cake.

    There were no leftovers. Of anything.

  • If I Could Turn Back Time

    IMG_7480

    . . . I’d have done more cooking a few months ago, when Baguette was willing to actually GO TO BED.

    Mr. Sandwich gets home from work at 5, and picks Baguette up. I get home a little after six. As far as we can tell, she’s eaten fairly recently at that point, so she’s not hungry. What she does want to do is go out for a walk and see every dog in the neighborhood (yes, apparently they all are named Wicket). The walk around our block is about a half mile, and it takes about an hour. Wicket didn’t take that long to make the trip even when we first found her and she could barely walk at a snail’s pace.

    So now we’re at 7:15–7:30, and it’s time for a little food. Then it’s time for books, tooth brushing (she likes to do it herself), and Pajanimals. If you think this means she’s in bed before 8:30, think again. Of late, Baguette has decided that she will only go to sleep if Mr. Sandwich and I are both in bed with her.

    Last night we tried something new. We went to bed, and when she finally fell asleep, I got up and fixed her lunch, put dishes in the dishwasher, and ate dinner.

    What was that dinner? Scrambled eggs–half of which went to daycare with Baguette this morning. Because nowhere in this schedule is there time for me to make an actual meal.

    I know about planning ahead, cooking in bulk, and using leftovers. I’m delighted to find the comments on this post from Casual Kitchen (a blog I’m new to, but clearly must start following). But I’m doubtful that I’ll be able to make much of anything work while I have a toddler who won’t nap, won’t sleep, and won’t let anyone else take care of her.

    So I guess my only option is to invent a time machine. If only I had the time to do so.

    Photo by Ateupamateur, via Flickr.

  • Pasta Salad

    I may be eating this until the end of time. Good thing Baguette likes it, too.

    And don’t worry. I’m not going to post everything I pack for lunch. That sounds boring, even to me. (Plus, isn’t that what Twitter is for?) But yesterday Mr. Sandwich came down with something nasty at work, and I wound up driving back and forth across town a lot–which added another entry into the ongoing saga of “Work-Life Balance? Hah!”

    Everyone’s better today, though. And I’m surprised at how well this whole wheat pasta is working out.

  • Lunch Box Challenge

    I read about this at The Happiest Mom, and I think it may just give me the motivation that I need to pack my own lunch (I already have to provide Baguette’s food for day care). So how did I do today?

    Baguette:

    • Sliced peach
    • Pasta salad (whole wheat pasta, black olives, red bell pepper, spinach, mushrooms, balsamic vinaigrette)
    • Biscuit
    • Strawberry breakfast bar

    Me:

    • Pasta salad
    • Peach
    • A frozen lasagne lunch that I bought at Trader Joe’s last week, which was already in the freezer at work

    Here’s the trick: I really also need to pack breakfast for myself, because I don’t have time to eat until I get to work. My usual work breakfast is a grilled cheese sandwich from the deli in our building, but even that adds up as the days progress. So for this to work, I really need to plan more. A lot, in fact.

    Wish me luck.

  • Food Trucks! Food Trucks!

    Grill em' All truck

    Ever since Food Network aired the first “Great Food Truck Race,” Mr. Sandwich and I have wanted burgers from the Grill ‘Em All truck. Unfortunately, their lines have always been enormous–not really feasible since Baguette is about as patient as you’d expect a 16-month-old to be.

    Nevertheless, we headed up to Northridge Din Din a Go Go with the intention of finally consuming the “Molly Hatchet” burger. Or maybe a “Waste ‘Em All.” Or both. Hosted by the Classic Car Wash at the corner of Reseda and Devonshire, this weekly event provides a variety of food trucks–and actual seating!

    We started off with a “Trailer Trash” dog (chili, nacho cheese, Fritos) and freshly fried tater tots from Dogtown Dog, as well as a maple-braised pork crepe from Crepe’n Around. Both hit the spot. The pork had a surprising kick to it; it was spicier than anything I usually associate with crepes, but I’d order it again in a heartbeat.

    Next up was Lardon and their Baco Taco. This is a mixture of potatoes and cheddar cheese stuffed into a taco shell made of woven bacon strips. Decadent? Sure. Kind of ridiculous? Definitely. Tasty? For those of us who love bacon, potatoes, and cheese, it’s a sure-fire hit.

    To round out the meal (and ourselves), we moved on to The Buttermilk Truck. I’ve wanted to try their morning menu with donuts and pancake bites, and maybe one of these days I will–but they had their Late Night Menu, which meant we overdid with the Buttermilk Brick–a biscuit, hash browns, eggs over easy, and chorizo gravy. It was excellent (although I would have expected a much better biscuit from a truck with “buttermilk” right there in its name), but overwhelming considering how much we’d already eaten.

    So we still didn’t make it to Grill ‘Em All (or Lobsta Truck, which was there as well). And I ate so much that I’m still full this morning, which never happens. But most importantly, Baguette stayed asleep and in her stroller until just before we were ready to leave. Because otherwise we would have had to share with her, too.

    Photo by standardpixel, via Flickr.

  • “I Think She’s Just Being a Weird Baby Today”

    Baguette’s Grandma and Grandpa came for a visit this weekend. They live out of town, and it’s been about four months since she’s seen them. That’s a quarter of her life, so it took her a little time to remember who they are. But once she did, she plopped down in Grandpa’s lap for reading time.

    Unfortunately, on Saturday Baguette woke up as Grumpy Baby. She didn’t like anything, and she particularly didn’t like it if I put her down. And while she did consent to a nap on Grandpa’s chest, it didn’t seem to help her mood much. This did not exactly simplify our preparations for that night’s cookout for 16 people (steak, salmon, sausages, asparagus, and tomato-rice salad, by the way).

    Baguette remained clingy throughout the cookout, although she did allow herself to be entertained by the six-year-old who provided the title to this post–a statement made, by the way, with a tone of acceptance and tolerance that I consider to be quite impressive at any age. And although she wanted very little to do with Grandma and Grandpa for much of the day, she did lean in and give them both goodnight kisses through her pacifier.

    Sunday was better; she started out with post-party fussiness, but perked up with a trip to the park. There she climbed up and slid down the slides, worked her way up stairs, and played in the sand. When we moved to a shady spot on the grass, she realized that “Da-Dee” wasn’t with us. Three different times, she set off down the path to find him, more than happy for Grandpa to walk with her as she looked. Then she’d come back and paw through my purse before setting out again.

    After dinner, she settled in with Grandpa and her four books that she likes, and made him read to her for at least half an hour. When it came time for Grandma and Grandpa to leave, she leaned in for hugs all around and waved to them as they drove away. We’ll go through it all over again in November, when we get together for Thanksgiving.

    And now, of course, I realize that part of Baguette’s “Weird Baby” episode can be attributed to Saturday’s lunch. Just because she liked the chicken tikka masala doesn’t mean it entirely agreed with her.

  • My Favorite Sandwich

    In a sitcom, this reveal would come in the series finale. And it would probably be a disappointment to many viewers, because of course the earlier episodes would have featured increasingly complex concoctions with discordant and occasionally obscure ingredients.

    When I started second grade, my mother said, “What do you want for lunch tomorrow?” I paused–because it had never before occurred to me that I might have a say in the matter–and replied, “I don’t care, as long as it’s not bologna.”

    Every morning in high school, my mother would say, “What do you want for lunch?” And every morning I would give her the same answer, which finally led me to say, “Peanut butter and jelly, and I’ll let you know when I’m tired of it.” (Yes, my mother made my lunch in high school. I think she felt guilty because I was up in the morning before she was, and her vision of the “perfect mother” was someone who was up early and made her kids’ lunches, even if they were old enough to manage that themselves. Hopefully we can all get past this shocking revelation.)

    PB&J and “not bologna” are still very high on my list. But my real favorite sandwich can be traced back to a trip to the UK that we made when I was 10. In the course of traveling through England, Scotland, and Northern Ireland, we had a few high teas. At one of those teas, I discovered a wonder: the tomato sandwich.

    This is a delightfully simple sandwich: sliced tomato between two slices of bread that have been brushed with mayonnaise. (Do not tell me that mayonnaise is “gross.” I’m telling you what I like, not making you eat it.) I’m sure that at the long-ago teas, the sandwiches were made with white bread. We don’t have white bread, so I make mine on Roman Meal. To a lot of people I know, that’s practically white bread. For the mayonnaise, I used Best (Hellman’s to you East Coast readers). For the tomatoes?

    Ah, that’s where the magic comes in. The tomatoes are from our garden, which was dug, planted, and harvested by Mr. Sandwich. Last year the raccoons got all of the tomatoes (or, at least, part of each tomato), but this year he’s actually been able to find some that are both ripe and untouched by vermin hands.

    So last night I sliced up the tomato, put it on the mayonnaise-y bread, sprinkled just a little salt on it, and ate. Delicious.