Vegetable Sandwich, India-style

Many of the various cultures and peoples of India practice forms of vegetarianism; therefore many of the street foods of India–not all, not by far, but many of them–are vegetarian foods. The vada pav we covered last month, pav bhaji (my favorite), pani puri, bhel puri, many samosas, aloo tikki–all are in their basic forms vegetarian chaat, or fried snacks commonly sold as street food in India.

Vegetable sandwiches are another type of street food. The so-called “Bombay sandwich” that we touched on a few years ago when exploring cucumber sandwiches is one such example, but there are many variants, both grilled and uncooked, with or without cheese, using such various vegetables as onion, tomato, cucumber, potato, bell peppers, beets, lettuce, cabbage, carrots, corn, or whatever the sandwich maker prefers, seasoned with a variety of chutneys, sauces, and masala powders, though a green coriander chutney is somewhat universal, and served with more chutney or possibly ketchup for dipping.

Though the possibilities are endless, and the stands serving these sandwiches in India are many, they are not as common around here as some other vegetarian chaat on Indian menus, in my experience. They are out there though, and worth seeking out.

So we trolled some of the same usual suspects we hit last month while exploring the vada pav, Vegetarian Indian restaurants in both Naperville and on Devon Avenue, looking for vegetable sandwiches. We did not find as many on offer as we did vada pavs. But there were a few.

It was snowing as we pulled up to Honest, right next door to the new Patel Brothers store in Naperville. Honest has a number of vegetable sandwiches on offer, something like 6 or 7 different varieties. We ordered two of them, their standard vegetable sandwich and their “Bahubali” sandwich, named after a revered Jain figure said to have achieved omniscience through years-long meditation. There is also an entertaining Bollywood action movie about a character of the same name. I’m assured there is no connection between the two.

It appears to have been snowing inside as well when they made this sandwich. The billowing threads of white draping the sandwich sections are shredded Amul cheese, a processed white cheddar made from Buffalo milk that is the most popular cheese in India according to some sources.

Somewhat strangely, the cheese comes in a can. It’s slightly firmer than American cheese, but has similar qualities, being salty and waxy and a great melter, with a more interesting flavor from the buffalo milk than American cheese gets from our robotically-milked herds. I cleared some of it away to get a better look at the innards of the sandwich.

This was a triple-decker, grilled on the outside but with softer bread between. The bottom layer consisted of a spiced potato mixture similar to that in a dabeli, along with sweet chutney. Next came a layer of tomatoes and onion and a spicy green chutney. Finally there was a layer of beets, carrots, green bell pepper, cucumber, and a spicy red chutney. It was kind of a bewildering combination, but well assembled and with strong individual ingredients, and the Amul cheese made everything taste good.

The standard vegetable sandwich, which we ordered grilled, also came cut into 4 triangular wedges, and contained tomato, cucumber, and green chutney. It was simple, and almost embarrassing next to the riches of the Bahubali, but it was compelling, and the combination of the crisp bread, soft wet tomato, and the crunch of the cucumber was an interesting textural mashup.

We also stopped by Gujju’s Chaat House while in Naperville, and spent some time again speaking with the owner, who we found eager to discuss his all-vegetarian cuisine. He recalled our previous visit and as we entered asked if we’d like vada pav again. We took a look at the menu and found both a Bombay sandwich, a type of Indian grilled vegetable sandwich, and a cheese and jam sandwich that used Amul cheese along with a mixed fruit jam. It wasn’t a vegetable sandwich, but we had become enamored enough with Amul cheese that we ordered it anyway.

The mixed fruit jam was an unfamiliar mix of familiar flavors–mango, pear, maybe some banana?–comforting but odd. Combined with the salty and slightly sour Amul cheese, and enveloped in the soft and mildly sweet bread, it was comfort food that a child of any age could enjoy.

The Bombay sandwich though was a beast. A double decker made with the same thick-sliced soft white bread reminiscent of Japanese milk bread, it combined a layer of cucumber and tomato with a second layer of beets, red onions, and boiled potato. Spread in each layer was a schmear of a coriander chutney that is so closely associated with the “Bombay” sandwich that it is sometimes sold as Bombay Sandwich Spread.

Over the whole was a thick coat of the finely shredded and inescapable Amul cheese.

Unfortunately I didn’t care for the thickness of the onion slices here and this sandwich didn’t work quite as well for me. However, I always enjoy speaking with the proprietor of Gujju’s Chaat House due to his obvious passion for the food he is preparing, and I’m sure I’ll be back in a few months to try his dabeli.

On Devon, we were once again only able to find two restaurants serving the vegetable sandwich, though we found plenty that was good to eat that day. Our first stop was the everpresent Kamdar Plaza, which combines a good selection of groceries and dry goods with a snack counter selling savory Indian vegetarian snacks. We didn’t have the best luck here with vada pav last month, but their other snacks have been good so we took another shot and ordered their vegetable sandwich.

Kamdar Plaza’s vegetable sandwich consists of tomato and cucumber in bread, along with coriander chutney, cut into wedges and sprinkled with a masala powder similar to chaat masala. I’ve seen this masala, or one much like it, sold at my local Indian market as “Sandwitch Masala.”

The sandwich masala at Kamdar has a strong flavor of cumin, with an assertive presence of asafoetida or hing, a powerful spice with a flavor reminiscent of onions and an aroma of rot, but in a good way. Mostly. There are other flavors there as well, perhaps some cinnamon, fennel seed, chili, but the main impression is of cumin and asafoetida.

This vegetable sandwich was a simple sandwich but satisfying. The vegetables seem insubstantial when biting into the sandwich, but the flavors make up for that impression.

The only other vegetable sandwich on offer at any of our Devon stops that day was at Tahoora, a storefront that brings to mind a bank building, where we tried the bun kebab a few years ago. Tahoora offered a “Vegetable grill” sandwich that turned out to be a bit of an outlier.

The vegetable grill sandwich at Tahoora was a panini, containing what appeared to be a vegetable mixture straight from the grocery store’s freezer section, plus some black olives, mozzarella cheese, and.. an Italian herb mixture? Some tomato sauce? I’m not sure, but the overall impression was pizza/calzone rather than the Indian style sandwich we were seeking.

There were peas, crinkle-cut carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, and the aforementioned olives, and I’m not sure what else. It would probably be good decent edible if we weren’t expecting something so completely different.

Making it myself

Since there were so few restaurant examples, I thought I’d better try and make something representative myself. I acquired the Amul cheese, the “Sandwitch Masala,” the “Bombay Sandwich Spread,” and even some Indian sandwich bread, essentially a Pullman-style square loaf.

I also opened the first of two cans of Amul cheese I had purchased. The cheese is quite firm, holding the shape of the can after being extracted, and shreds cleanly even with a fine grater.

For my version of the sandwich, I elected to do a double-decker, with red onion, cucumber, tomato, and boiled potato, with Amul cheese (but inside the sandwich rather than blanketing it), green chutney, and just a bit of tamarind chutney. I started by buttering one slice of the bread and spreading some of the chutney inside.

Atop this I put a layer of shredded Amul cheese, some thin slices of red onion, and sprinkled a pinch or two of the sandwich masala.

Next came a layer of boiled, sliced potato, and another sprinkling of masala. Each vegetable is seasoned with this spice mix. The version that I bought, in addition to the cumin and asafoetida I’d detected previously, had some chili-based heat and a sour, fruity flavor as well, from dried powdered mango.

Next came another layer of bread, buttered and spread on the bottom with tamarind chutney, buttered and spread on the top with the green coriander chutney, then covered with a layer of thin-sliced cucumbers.

Atop the cucumbers went a layer of sliced tomato, also seasoned with the sandwich masala.

Finally, the sandwich is finished with another slice of bread, buttered and spread with chutney on the inside. Then the whole sandwich is cooked in a grill pan, or a panini press if you prefer. I served it sliced into wedges and with a handful of tandoor BBQ flavored chips.

This was similar to the Bombay sandwich we made a few years ago, but the execution was better. The slight sweetness of the thin layer of tamarind chutney picked up and amplified the mango of the masala powder; the middle slice of bread helped stabilize the sandwich and the Amul cheese not only helped glue the vegetables into place but added a salty and slightly sour flavor of its own. The cast iron grill pan I’ve bought since then did a better job of crisping up the bread than the panini press I used at the time. This was about as good as I can imagine a vegetable sandwich being.