A Ham Sandwich Walks Into a Bar…
Ham is grandiose and prosaic. Ham was the father of nations. Ham is a guy sitting in front of a shortwave radio looking for connections. Ham goes hard. Mostly, though, ham is a big hunk of salty pig leg.
I’ve lost count of the number of ham sandwiches that have been featured in previous Tribunal writeups. I could try to link a bunch of them but you’d have better luck just typing ham into that search bar at the top and falling down the rabbit hole.
Yet when I see “ham sandwich” on a menu, I’m rarely inspired to take that leap of faith. Of course, that menu item often looks like this:
I got the burger instead. Trust me, at this place, you want the burger.
That’s not the kind of sandwich that inspires devotion.
Yet ham is a special case. Being a cured meat like corned beef or pastrami, ham can stand up to pungent condiments, such as mustard or pickles, and goes well on a stronger-flavored bread like rye. Yet since the underlying meat is the more delicate pork, ham fares just as well on a simple roll or even plain old white bread, and yes, does just fine with mayonnaise, tomato, and lettuce.
A ham sandwich is even pretty good when it’s from a catering company with some combination of the above
The roast beef sandwich was even better. Pile on that horseradish.
or from a chain sub sandwich spot on a bad whole wheat roll with Italian dressing and giardiniera
Any sandwich is good with giardiniera. OK, maybe not peanut butter and jelly
Ham bridges the divide. And though ham may not be in every sandwich, can you think of many sandwiches that would be made worse with a little ham added in?
And before you mention PB&J again, have you tried it?
It’s difficult to find something bad to say about a ham sandwich. But for all their ubiquity, it’s just as difficult to find much of anything to say about them at all. When I get stuck trying to find a way to write about one of our sandwiches, my usual MO is to just start eating them, as many as I can, at whatever opportunity presents itself, until the ideas start flowing.
A quick glance through my posting history will show that this method does not often bear fruit. But so it was that I found myself recently, during a long-anticipated visit with Mindy to a taqueria called Atotonilco that had been highly recommended by her work friends, savoring the thought of the al pastor and carne asada and birria delights that awaited me, the fresh corn tortillas in which they’d be lovingly cradled, and the ludicrous excess of salsa verde in which I’d be crassly drowning them. I stared at the menu board, lost in this reverie.
Tortas, the menu board whispered to me.
“What? No!” I said. I don’t normally talk to menu boards, but I’d just donated blood at the Red Cross and may have been a little lightheaded.
Tortas, the menu board repeated. Jamon, it insisted.
“Awww, man!” I pleaded. The menu board stubbornly stood mute.
My lovely wife had the pastor, the birria, the carne asada. Yes, I ordered a ham sandwich.
Full disclosure: we shared.
It was fine. Telera rolls are soft and made to mold themselves around whatever filling you’re silly enough to put into them. Ham and beans are, no surprise, a pretty good combination, and while I wouldn’t normally put sour cream into a sandwich, context is everything. Plus the heap of salsa verde helped a lot. As did the bites of Mindy’s tacos that I snatched.
But what would my ideal ham sandwich be? If we leave out the possibility of cheese–given that we’re covering ham-and-cheese sandwiches next month–how do I like my ham sandwiches?
The answer is, all of the above. I just really like ham. I like the big juicy city hams and the salty, funky country hams, the fancy European hams and the cheap pressed Polish hams. I even like the Buddig-style ultrathin sliced hams you get in little flat plastic packages at the grocery store. If a sandwich contains ham, I’m good. If a sandwich features ham, even better. All I really need is some good ham, some decent bread, and a schmear of butter.
The French have a name for this. It’s called jambon-beurre, or ham-and-butter, and it’s a very popular street food over there, their most popular sandwich. We’ll be covering it in a few months, so I probably shouldn’t delve too deeply into it, but I’ll give you a sneak preview.
Yes, we drank wine with it. Ooh-la-la
My own personal version, though, would involve some good whole wheat bread
and some slices of a freshly-smoked peach-bourbon-glazed shank-end ham, not too thick, not too thin
Just a good flavorful bread and a well-made ham, without much other than a little butter to enhance it.
Now if somebody were to offer me something fancy, say some French ham on pretzel bread, with Gruyere cheese, mango chutney, avocado, and jalapenos, don’t kid yourself. I’d eat it.
Sergio’s Special from Hannah’s Bretzel
But there’s something to be said for simplicity. Ham may be humble enough to join the chorus, but it’s well capable of singing solo.
Especially if it’s really good ham.
Jamon Serrano on toasted Italian bread
I like sandwiches.
I like a lot of other things too but sandwiches are pretty great
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