Tomato Sandwiches

I realized my TAV (the adventurous vegetable) for CSA Share 11 should have been the tomato, not the bell pepper. I decided last minute that it would be nice to bring some sliced tomato and bread to work before the bread went bad. I think my original plan was to eat the bread with jam or hummus and eat the tomatoes as a snack, but then someone sent me a link to tomato recipes, and I became utterly fascinated by the tomato sandwiches featured in the article, which called for nothing more than bread, tomato, mayo, and a dash of salt n pepper.

I'd heard of such things before, of course. And I am no stranger to strange sandwiches. When I was a little girl, my dad would occasionally have the thankless task of feeding me and my little brother while my mom was out of town for work. I love my dad dearly, but when I was growing up, it was clear that he was rather clueless in the kitchen. When mom wasn't home, we knew exactly what we'd be eating: bibimbap, sandwiches, or dinner at the local Hometown Buffet. Unsurprisingly, we would always beg dad to take us to Hometown Buffet, but the one time we ate there every night, my mom got mad at him for being lazy and feeding us unhealthy food. Second of all, my dad doesn't eat a lot. Two small children don't eat a lot. Buffets are a bad idea for my family, in general. We end up subsidizing everyone else. One time, when I was a toddler, we were at a fancy buffet in an upscale Las Vegas hotel. I picked out exactly three strawberries, ate them happily, and declared I was full.

So instead of Hometown Buffet every night, we would add sandwich nights to the mom-less dinner rotation. To make it more entertaining, my dad would turn this into a competition to see who could eat the most sandwiches in one night. I usually won, which is kind of disgusting now that I think about it. I'm pretty sure Hometown Buffet was probably healthier, but I must admit, the sandwich competitions were hilariously fun.

There was definitely a method to the madness. First, we would raid the pantry and the fridge for all the condiments and fillings we could find, including a few rather unorthodox ones with questionable expiration dates. Then, we would start combining condiments to make sandwiches. The rule was one sandwich on a plate at a time. You had to finish your sandwich before you were allowed to grab two more slices of bread. Each sandwich had to include at least one filling and two slices of bread. Speed was not important, as it was the total number of sandwiches that were eaten which determined the winner. Although fillings like butter or jam were easier to eat, recognition was given for sandwiches made with flair and style and creativity, and eating 10 butter sandwiches was considered poor sportsmanship. Sandwiches did not count towards the total unless they were completely gone, no matter how disgusting the filling might be.

We got creative and invented all sorts of odd sandwiches. PB & banana, ketchup and cream cheese (we only tried this once), cheese and jam (yum), grilled PB a la Shel Silverstein, butter and PB (a bit redundant), and even relish and ranch (VILE). I tried all sorts of combinations of all sorts of things. I even tried putting soy sauce on my sandwich once, but I don't think it worked. There were two things on the table that I never touched though: the mustard bottle and the mayo jar.

I despise mayonnaise (and mustard). As far back as I can remember, I have always ordered my Subway sandwiches and chicken burgers with no mayo or mustard. If there was a trace of mustard or mayo on my food, I would throw it out. As I got older, instead of throwing out mayo contaminated food, I would just wipe it all off or throw out the mayo-soaked bread, but I still couldn't help but shudder as I scraped off the gloopy white sauce.The most disgusting thing I had ever seen was a pizza in Korea that was slathered in Kewpie mayo. I nearly barfed right then and there. Apparently mayo coated pizza is a thing...?

The only exceptions to my no-mayo rule were tuna salad sandwiches and the occasional BLT. I would mix in just enough mayo to make the tuna stick together. To keep my BLT bread from getting soggy, I would smear the stingiest smudge of mayo on my bread in a super thin, molecule-sized layer. And that's about it.

This tomato sandwich thing though. There was mayo, a horribly healthy generous slather of mayo, and it seemed the mayo was integral to the tomato sandwich. I had to try it though. If the queen of tea (me) could try something as odd as carrot top tea, the queen of sandwiches (also me, in case you were wondering) should be able to give the tomato sandwich a chance, right? I had a packet of Hellman's mayo buried in my drawer from last week's dinner, so I went digging in my drawer and managed to fish it out of the chaos of napkins, pens, and sugar packets. I took my bread, spread some mayo all over the slices, piled on the tomatoes, added salt and pepper, and then took a tentative bite.

Before we talk about my reaction, you may be wondering why I didn't just skip the mayo and eat the tomato sandwich plain. According to the internets, the mayo provides a nice balance to the acidity of the tomato AND it keeps the tomato juice from turning the sandwich into a big soggy mess. The internet is not always right, but in this case, collective wisdom seemed trustworthy. I went with it and took the jump.

It was good. I liked it. But then, a dawning realization...surprisingly, I liked it because of the mayo. As promised, the mayo provided a nice balance to the sandwich and kept the sandwich bread from disintegrating from my juicy tomato slices. I tried a nibble of tomato and bread without mayo (I somehow missed a corner of my bread slice when I was spreading my mayo) and it just wasn't as good. It tasted dry and off balance, kind of like eating s'mores without chocolate (heresy!) I can't believe I just equated mayo with chocolate. o_O The world is ending.

In any case, I declare this sandwich a winner. And I will quietly acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, there's a reason someone invented mayo.

If only I'd known about this during my sandwich-competition days...!

On a side note, my coworker has separately discovered that toast with scallion cream cheese and tomato slices makes for a lovely savory breakfast at the desk. Similar concept, and a nice way to compensate for the lackluster tomatoes in the 2nd floor cafeteria. Might detract from good quality tomatoes though, so I'd save the scallion cream cheese for post-tomato season.