Favorite Sandwich

One of the conversation starters I often use when dining with groups of volunteers on hand to help Habitat for Humanity, Pontotoc, and who are visiting Pontotoc for the first time, is to ask each one at my table what they consider their favorite, made-at-home sandwich. After each has described his or her favorite, I’m usually asked about my favorite sandwich.

I also watch a lot of shows on the Food Network, and one of the programs I enjoy is “The Best Thing I Ever Ate.” Various chefs and stars on the Food Network are asked to describe the “Best Thing I Ever Ate” with respect to a given food item or category. For example, one program might be devoted to desserts; another to an entrée, and one I saw fell into the category, “between two slices of bread.”

I’m not a star, but if I’m invited to be on the show, I’ll have to say my favorite thing to eat in the sandwich category is a BLT (bacon, lettuce and tomato). Of course, the sandwich is much better when home-grown tomatoes are in season and are of any variety which has plenty of acid. I also prefer honey-wheat bread, thick-sliced bacon, iceberg lettuce, and a generous slathering of mayonnaise, as components. And, given a choice of where to consume it, I’ll pick my house as long as my wife makes the sandwich. For some reason, the sandwich she makes tastes better than mine. I’ve watched her put them together and have tried to replicate her actions, but mine just don’t look or taste as good as hers.

My second favorite is even simpler. If the tomatoes are unusually acidic, I like a BMT, bread, mayo and tomato.

Rivaling my love for BLTs and BMTs is the peanut butter sandwich. I grew up eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches which Mom made for me. Mom always stirred the jelly, most often grape, into the peanut butter before spreading the concoction onto white bread. Toss in a glass of cold milk to wash it down, and it made a great after-school snack. I also enjoy peanut butter and banana, and while I will eat one with the bananas mashed into the peanut butter, I prefer my bananas sliced over the peanut butter.

A number of years ago someone introduced me to what is now my favorite way to consume a peanut butter sandwich and that is a PBMC, peanut butter marshmallow creme. No mixing, please; just spread peanut butter (smooth kind) on one slice of bread, spread marshmallow cream on the other slice of bread and press the sandwich faces together. I like to cut the sandwich along a diagonal, prior to eating, as it keeps me from getting marshmallow crème in my ears when taking big bites. And, if you’re brand conscious, I use Jif peanut butter and Kraft marshmallow crème.

If there’s a better sandwich than one of the three named herein, it’s yet to touch my lips. However, I’m open to suggestions.

Super Bowl Crazy

It was with mixed emotions that I watched part of this year’s Super Bowl. Yes, I was proud for the New Orleans Saints, but I was a Baltimore Colts fan long before their owner moved the Colts to Indianapolis.

I have great respect for the accomplishments of the Saints this season and was particularly impressed by Drew Brees throughout the year. Still, we Archie Manning era, Ole Miss fans think of his son, Peyton, as one of our own, and it’s hard for most of us to root for any opponent of Peyton, unless there’s a direct family member link with the opposing team. I really thought Baltimore had the best team in pro football this year, but as the race does not always go to the swift, neither does the best team always win the Super Bowl.

I confess to growing tired of all the pre-game buildup about how the Saints had given New Orleans residents hope, something allegedly lost when Hurricane Katrina submerged much of the Crescent City in aught five. How this renewed hope will translate into a rebuilding initiative or bring back the many who left New Orleans after the hurricane, never to return, wasn’t made clear. New Orleans will require much more than winning football team to elevate it to its former glory, though I use the term glory for the South’s Sin City loosely.

Yes, there was an element of craziness about it all; the hype, the game, the celebrations, and it wasn’t all bad. Anything that gets folks’ minds off their miserable existence, if but for a few hours, has its own merits. In some respects the Saints are for New Orleans what Obama is for America, an agent of hope and change. But, if the changes wrought for New Orleans are no better than the ones Obama has brought America, hope is all the Crescent City has left.

On a lighter side, it was a little crazy at my house on Super Bowl Sunday. I was expecting Rayanne’s family to be on hand to watch the game and eat, and I’ve learned to buy more and prepare more than we might possibly need simply to cover the unexpected.

Kickoff for the game coincided with grill time and prep time for all the food, so I missed seeing most of the first half of the Super Bowl. I enjoyed preparing and cooking some of the meats, and I must credit my wife and daughter for much of the other work that went into the various dishes comprising our dinner. To please everyone, simple one meat and two vegetable dinners won’t suffice for most occasions, and since this occasion was special, I didn’t mind overdoing the smorgasbord a bit.

There was enough food to feed our normal Christmas crowd and then some, but we ended up with only five adults and two children for our Super Bowl party. Sarah’s on a diet, and neither of her children were on hand for the soirée. Granddaughter Anna ate lunch with us but went back to Ole Miss to watch the game with her ‘feller.’ Suffice it to say, we had a lot of leftovers, leftovers that will spoil before we can eat them.

Next year, it may be even crazier at my house, but there’s no way to know a year in advance. I do know that I won’t go quite as crazy with the menu. What do y’all think? Pizza?