Secret Origins: The Oyster Loaf
If asked, where would you say the sandwich called Oyster Loaf originated? New Orleans? San Francisco? Chesapeake Bay? Points North or East?
If asked, where would you say the sandwich called Oyster Loaf originated? New Orleans? San Francisco? Chesapeake Bay? Points North or East?
The ham in this sandwich is almost a non-presence in the face of the attention-grabbing bread and the quietly delicious tea eggs, to my mind the star of the show.
There isn’t really a wrong way to shape frybread. I’ve come to prefer the methods done by hand though. They are more prone to introducing imperfections in the bread’s shape, which are the best part.
Deep-fried, on a stick, and wrapped in bread? That, my friends, is the street food trifecta. A treat combining all three of those features is worth exploring.
Murtabak exists in various forms throughout the Arabian peninsula and Southeast Asia. Why such a wide range? What is the common factor? Where did murtabak originate?
They consist of multiple layers of squishy white bread with a sweet eggy orange spread and bologna, with a wad of pork floss incongruously jammed between the two sandwich halves to make one metasandwich.
The textural deficiencies that the spread has by itself are almost entirely masked by combining it with squishy white bread. You can almost fool yourself into thinking that it’s something better.
The final step includes adding sugar and bringing the marmalade to its setting point, somewhere just north of the boiling point of water. Of course where there is room for human error, I will find a way to make it.
Marmalade features in the popular children’s fiction that I grew up with. Australia in the 1970s was steeped in Britishness. Our membership of the crumbling empire was never in doubt in my childhood mind.
Like other comfort foods, the Manhattan is fatty and carby, rich and warm and filling, and not especially challenging. It is the culinary equivalent of a warm blanket and a snuggly dog.
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