North Americans in Paris

Don't blame the Canadians.

Music by LDC Soundsystem.

Versailles Made Me Sick

Versailles, from behind


The aptly named Hall of Mirrors


Outside

In 1682, the official residence of the Court of France moved from the Louvre in Paris to Versailles, a chateau 25km to the southwest. Today, more than three hundred years later, Versailles still makes a lasting physical impression on visitors.

In my case, in the form of a cold.

I'll admit, it was a minor cold, more a nuisance than a malady. I first felt ill-effects on the evening of our visit after returning to our apartment. Thinking I had just got too much direct sun, I slept without worry. But the next morning I awoke with a scratched throat and vigorous sniffle.

All week I hoarded kleenex, staging a patient but resolute defense against the medieval germs. While the symptoms were not intense, the bug proved to be an adept networker, spreading to my coworkers, my wife, and my wife's coworkers. Today, thirteen days after my first sneeze, I am cured.

Visitors to Versailles, be warned: behind the thick oak panels and priceless gold-foil detailing, under the rigid balustrades, within the mirrored halls, the decorative cornices and tasteful friezes, hidden in the greenery of the sculpted geometric gardens, microbes await.

La tour

Will I Ever See Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film For Theatres

Will I?

Seriously, that's what it's called. And it's out right now.

http://www.adultswim.com/shows/athf/movie/

Statistics Canada Considers Pizza a Sandwich

According to a recent report by Statistics Canada, Canadians consume way too much salt. This shouldn't come as much of a surprise to anyone who has read the nutritional information on anything. If it's in a can it has lots of sodium. If it tastes good, same.

The real shocker in the report was what Statistics Canada considers a sandwich. Saying they oversimplified is -- for me -- the understatement of the young millennium. Discussing the amount of sodium in various foods, Stats Can reported the following:

"The "sandwich" category (pizza, sandwiches, submarines, hamburgers, hot dogs) led the way, representing 19% of sodium intake. This was followed by soups (7%) and pasta dishes (6%)."

Even though I disagree wholeheartedly, (see my explanation here), I acknowledge that the uninformed might lump hamburgers in with the sandwiches. But hot dogs? Pizza? The only kind of sandwich a pizza even remotely resembles is the Open-faced. But I don't know a single person or corporation who would put a deep-dish and a hoagie even on the same menu board. They are not siblings, but distant relatives, far removed. Cousins of cousins of cousins.

For those who need an explanation, here is why pizza is not a sandwich: it's all in the baking. An item that, as a whole, requires baking before it can be eaten is not a sandwich. Thus, a pizza, with its toppings added to raw dough, does not qualify. But a sandwich made on dough that is baked to become bread before anything else is added, does. The classification changes when pizza-like toppings are added to a pre-cooked base, which could technically be eaten on the spot. This, according to the CUSD, is a sandwich, as long as it is "capable of being held without great hardship or mess".

It's a technicality for sure, but god loves details. And corned beef subs.

A big thanks to reader Michel for bringing the report to my attention.

Pancho Con Pancho at Mr. Dog

Lunch in Argentina. Fries by McCain.


Mendoza, Argentina is technically a desert.

It blooms with olives and cypress and grapes thanks to the ingenuity of the indians, who, hundreds of years ago, rerouted runoff from the snowcapped peaks of the Andes into channels that irrigate the region and babble down the flat, shaded streets of the city.

The streams provide a fresh, clean quality, one that can only be sullied by the eating of a gigantic hot dog.

The day of our visit to Mr. Dog, there were bees everywhere, buzzing greedily as they absorbed the sweet marinaded trash outside the restaurant. I slid tentatively up to the counter, Metallica blaring and an impatient stare awaiting my order. The "pancho" section of the menu displayed four options: Pancho simplé, Pancho *something*, Pancho *something else* and Pancho con Pancho. I was confused and flustered.

This was one of those moments I'll never get back, I remember thinking. Why had I come all this way, to Mendoza, if not to get the baddest pancho the city could offer? Surely I must go for the fourth and obviously most awesome choice, the Pancho con Pancho.

Combo? Sure, I'll take the combo. Si, Coke, gracias. Straight fries.

I had no idea what a Pancho con Pancho would be, but I did some quick thinking. "Pancho" must be a hot dog. I know "con" means "with". Ergo, Pancho con Pancho must mean a hot dog, topped with another hot dog!

I was wrong, in the most delightful way. Before my eyes appeared a 10-inch dog, covered thick with slabs of salty local ham, and graced with a half-inch of gooey melted cheese. Pancho con Pancho! Pork with pork!

Never before had I eaten so much salt. I left the dregs of my Coke for the bees, their buzzing thanks drowning out the rolling streams.

A Side of Meat in Chile

Carve responsibly.

Chileans like meat. Not really breaking new ground with that insight. Travelling through the long tall country you see evidence of their beef affluence, with grazing cattle a frequent sight. I had many sandwiches, and many hamburguesos, but the best way to enjoy the stuff is cooked over roasting coals, as long as you don't get it too well done.

Ottawa Farewell

Discovery Sandwich is going international for a little while. Here's a video with some memories of Ottawa. We'll miss it, but we'll be back.

Dagwood Gets His Sandwich

One of many possible permutations of the Dagwood sandwich, by Boar's Head.


Dagwood Bumstead, the classic comic-strip character from the Blondie series, finally got his sandwich. And it's about time. He's been around for over seventy years, but never seems to get the chance to chow.

Dagwood's Sandwich Shoppes are scheduled to open in early November 2006, with aggressive plans for expansion. Launched by Dean Young, son of the strip's creator, Chic Young, the shoppes will sell lots of sandwiches, which is good. I just hope they respect Dagwood's legacy by focussing on craftsmanship and quality rather than pumping out platefuls of tasteless drivel.

While the Dagwood Sandwich has been an official entry in Webster's Dictionary for a few years, there's doesn't seem to be a standard set of ingredients, besides stacks of meat and cheese, thick slabs of bread, and a healthy appetite.

Calamari Steak Sandwich at Duarte's Tavern

Duarte's Tavern, Pescadero, CA



The Calamari Steak Sandwich


If you happen to search for "Pescadero, CA" in Google, you'll find that the first listing is for Duarte's Tavern.

There's a good reason for this.

Just east off the Pacific Coast ("Number 1") Highway, between San Francisco and Santa Cruz, population 670, Pescadero does not boom. It does not tremble with activity. It does, however, serve some of the best food in the U.S.A., at Duarte's Tavern.

My wife came across Duarte's in the book Roadfood, and by the description, the restaurant was well worth a stop. We were hungry and eager to tuck into a late lunch and the olallie berry pie we had read about.

Wood panelling everywhere. Cold, fizzy root beer. And artichokes. It was quickly apparent that we were in artichoke country.

I rarely ask wait staff for their opinion on items from the menu. With many summers spent in working in a restaurant, I understand the urge to rave about every item. (“The liver? Outstanding!”) But at Duarte’s, I needed some guidance if I was to take the leap into a calamari steak sandwich. The rave seemed genuine, and the waitress was spot on: it was tender and tasty. My favourite sandwich in a long time. Breaded and herbed up, on a French roll. And the olallie berry pie was like nothing I've had before.

Discovering Sandwiches

Interstate 5, just south of Seattle


Dusk on an Oregon highway


Cruising a speeder bike on the moon of Endor


Discovery Sandwich International has been absent from the table for too long. But for good reason: I've been combing the delis and cafés of North America in search of the greatest and best sandwiches.

A recent roadtrip down and up the Pacific Ocean coast revealed 4200 km of lunches, and I'm as prepared as mustard to share it all.

Soon.

The Rollercoaster Principle

I was asked recently to clarify a point on open faced sandwiches. Here is Patricia's question:

"After our discussion concerning Danish open faced sandwiches, I have a question for you: As you know this type of sandwich is correctly eaten with a knife and fork... my question to you is: what if the sandwich is flipped and the filling is on the bottom and the bread on top? It MUST now be eaten with a knife and fork but is it still a sandwich? Just some food for thought!"

Here is my response:

If an open-faced concoction is deemed to be a sandwich, then flipping it over will not change its classification.

Here's why: If it's determined to be a sandwich in its upright form, this indicates that the item is not excessively messy (for more, see the Complete, Unambiguous Sandwich Definition). We're talking no gravy, no major sauce coverage. So, if flipped over, I'm assuming that there is a way to hold the thing
without getting too much of the contents/condiments on you. Ergo, it is still a sandwich. I.e., you could hold the meat with your thumbs, and tuck any pickles between the meat and the frame. If it's a loose meat sandwich, then we are in some trouble. At this point, if you insist on eating it flipped over, I suggest you eat over the sink.

The greater principle here is that a sandwich's classification cannot be affected by its angle of rotation. I will heretofore call this the Rollercoaster Principle: If it's a sandwich at the bottom of a rollercoaster's arc, then it's a sandwich at the top, when the passengers and their sandwiches are upside down.

Bitter Tea by The Fiery Furnaces

Bitter Tea: Dense but ultimately rewarding


Listening to a Fiery Furnaces album is like wading through a river of thick flowing caramel at its widest point. It can be painful, it takes a long time, and you might drown in a river of caramel. But if you make it to the other side, you are rewarded because there's sweetness dripping all around you.

Bitter Tea is no exception. After listening to the 72-minute album, I still don't really know what to think. Instrumental interludes interupt songs like a telemarketer during dinner, stubbornly hawking new wares that sound unlike anything that's come before.

The lyrics, at this early stage, make as much sense as German to a dolphin. Maybe that's because there's lots of backward singing, which kind of sounds like German. I've noticed some pleasing songs to listen to, but I don't know which ones, and I don't have the CD case in front of me.

Still, the Furnaces bring the originality. Wonky sounds and arbitrary non-sequitors weave a quilt that suggests a mind meld between Dr. Suess and Scott Joplin.

This reviewing experience has taught me that I need to listen to albums many more times before I can form anything as concrete as an actual opinion. You've got to uncork Bitter Tea, give it some air. Each time you taste it you'll get something different.

At this point, I'm still just wading in the caramel.

85-Pound Sandwich

For those unfamiliar with the conversion rates, 85 pounds is roughly equal to $170 CDN. That's a pricey meal by most measurements, but for this sandwich it's about right.

The McDonald sandwich, named for its creator Scott McDonald, executive chef of Selfridges department store in London, is a rare beast. It's loaded with tender Wagyu beef and other expensive, edible items carefully staged on a platform of "24-hour fermented sour dough bread."

You know that's some high quality bread if it's been fermenting for 24 hours. I've had the 12-hour fermented stuff and I'm sure it just doesn't hold a candle.

In all seriousness, I wouldn't hesitate to dole out $170 for a McDonald. At a hefty 21 ounces, it's worth its weight in pounds.

The Scone Witch -- A Delicious Hex

The salmon sconewich: quite buttery


As a hungry wise person once said, "You can't make sandwiches on bread alone."

Okay, I may have paraphrased that. But I think the people at The Scone Witch (388 Albert Street, Ottawa) heard it the same way.

They serve up a wicked variety of sconewiches, which, as you might expect, feature tasty sandwich contents framed by a buttery scone. Although you may prefer to eat them with a knife and fork, most sconewiches classify as sandwiches, since this decision has more to do with looking refined than the degree of mess the sandwich creates --- a key tenet in the Complete, Unambiguous Sandwich Definition.

Pictured above is a poached salmon concoction. The scone was light and fresh, and, though small, rather filling. Served with a salad, it leaves you satisfied. Not excessively suffonsified.

The restaurant's location is a little odd, though well suited to its name. Set up in a house just west of the business district in downtown Ottawa, it's surrounded by parking lots. One might expect the interior to be dank and cave-like, fortunately it's clean with lots of natural light.

The Scone Witch is a real Ottawa treat. If you haven't tried it, do. I'll be back soon.

My rating: four broomsticks.

Meatball Subs are NOT Sandwiches

Wanted: a roundburger


This poster has been floating around the 'net for a little while now. Given its relevance to DSI, and its substantiation of my view that a meatball sub is NOT a sandwich (it's a Roundburger -- see my Complete, Unambiguous Sandwich Definition from August 25, 2005) I thought I should post it.

The rumour I've heard is that this image is a likeness taken from a real "Wanted" poster of an infamous criminal from the American west, over 110 years ago. This guy apparently realized, moments before being gunned down following a daring bank heist, that the Meatball Sub cannot be classified as a sandwich due to the non-natural formed shape of the meatballs — just like a burger, which also exists in another class.

I haven't checked Snopes yet to verify.

Sandwich Haters -- Blue Man Group?

Pure conjecture.


I don't know for a fact, but I suspect that the Blue Man Group hates sandwiches.

Photo swiped from here.

"Treats" Lives Up To Its Name

Not a sandwich, but still good.


This place is something.

I think the quality of your experience must depend on which location you visit. Certainly the outlet at Kent and Albert in downtown Ottawa is without equal. The chef, and he deserves all the title connotes, is exuberant and a skilled flavourer. I highly recommend checking out his domain.

On Fridays the featured dish is quesadilla. The service is great, the atmosphere lively.

You may be scolded if you don't finish your soup.

Crêpes West

Every time my fiancé and I cross into Pacific longitudes we make three stops: Café Crêpe, Cupcakes, and the best hotdog stand ever.

Cupcakes and the best hotdog stand ever do not relate to sandwiches, so we'll deal with them another time.

Crêpes are sandwiches—French sandwiches—with origins dating back to classical Roman times. They have a frame and a filling, and do not entirely hide the tasty innards, placing the crêpe well within the Complete, Unambiguous Sandwich Definition (unless, of course, they are filled with an uncut burger patty or something equally bizarre).

Sweet or savory, equally at home on a plate or palm-wrapped, crêpe s are versatile. The one pictured above, an easy favourite, hosts spinach and feta. The buttery softness of the shell warms and melts the cheese, gooing up each bite.

But the beauty of the crepe, as with all sandwiches, is its ability to contain. Wrapped in a crinkling waxy paper, there is little fear of mess. You can the check out the massive maples and Douglas firs of Stanley Park, the shops and runners on Robson Street, the fleeces and hiking shoes at Kitsilano, confident that you're not leaving any precious crêpe on the sidewalk.

What a great city.

Homemade Panini

Melting the cheese is key


I got a sandwich maker recently. It's one of those appliances on the verge of impractical, especially if you don't have much storage space in your kitchen. Do people really use them, or do they just sit waiting on the shelf, between the juicer and the waffle maker? Valid questions.

For the record, my waffle maker sees frequent action, and so has the sandwich grill.

The joy of grilled sandwiches is in the bread, bun or whatever your outer layer. Lately, I've been buying beautiful baked ciabatta loafs. They're dense, heavy and the perfect size. And when you grill em right, they form a crisp outer crust that warms the contents of your panini.

The other reason to have a sandwich grill is, of course, to melt cheese. It really doesn't matter what type, as long as it's flowing.

The sandwiches pictured above had ham and turkey, old white cheddar, honey mustard, sweet pickles and tomatoes. I spray the grill with oil, squeeze it down, and a few minutes later we're ready.

They are close to perfect.