Adventures in Obsolete Sandwiches
Where would you go to find meat loaf, Braunschweiger, and other forgotten sandwich fillings?
As overblown and often invented sandwiches have become more common, topping out at $20 or more, it is inevitable that our minds are cast back to the smaller and cheaper sandwiches of the past. Especially those with fillings that — though still delicious — have completely gone out of fashion. Once available everywhere, I now have to search hard for what I’ll call yesterday’s sandwiches.
Meatloaf
In the days when ground beef ruled supreme in the public larder, meatloaf was everywhere. At dinner it was served warm and smothered in gravy, or cold the next day on a sandwich with mayo and ketchup. I found this hot meatloaf sandwich at the Waverly Diner, and the mushrooms added a woodsy flavor. Served with mashed potatoes, it was $21.95 — hardly cheap. 385 Sixth Avenue, Greenwich Village
Liverwurst and Braunschweiger
Liverwurst and Braunschweiger are skinless German sausages that are almost indistinguishable, though the latter is mildly smoked. They’re made with pork liver and other offal, and the texture and flavor is like French pate, only denser and darker. At one time, both were used interchangeably in a classic sandwich with raw onions and mustard — but try to find the sandwich today! I unearthed it at Ray’s Deli ($10.99), and it was so good I ate it again a few days later on rye instead of a roll. 452 Hudson Street, West Village
Capicola
Capicola, (aka coppa, capocollo, cappy ham, or in the Brooklyn-Italian dialect “gabagool”) is a ham made of neck meat rubbed with chile paste and other spices. It can be found in salumerias and boutique butchers, but is rarely used as luncheon meat in sandwiches anymore. At Sunny and Annie’s Deli, I grabbed the bull by the horns (pig by the tail?) and ordered a capicola sandwich ($8.50) on a roll with lettuce and mayo, and the result was mega tasty, leaving a slight burn on the lips. 94 Avenue B, East Village
Ham and Swiss
“Ham and Swiss” — you didn’t even need to say “sandwich” — was once the most popular sandwich in America. It was made with a penurious couple of slices of boiled ham, a single slice of Swiss cheese, and white or whole wheat bread — Mrs. Baird’s if you lived in Texas, or maybe Wonder elsewhere. Miraculously, the Swiss cheese carried the day, because of its concentrated skankiness compared to the bland bread and rubbery ham. You can still find this masterpiece of economical sandwich-making ($8.50) at the Donut Pub, where you can enjoy a fresh donut afterwards and the coffee is just OK. 203 West 14th Street, Chelsea
Egg salad
No one knows where egg salad came from. Its grandfather oefs mayonnaise was certainly being served in 19th century French bistros, and by 1896 an early recipe for egg salad sandwiches had appeared in Fannie Farmer’s Boston Cooking-School Cook Book. By the middle of the next century it had peaked in popularity, but these days tubs of egg salad awash in thin white fluid languish in deli cases uneaten. But Japanese store Muji Market, using the much thicker Kewpie mayonnaise, makes a splendid egg salad sandwich ($7.50). In size and texture it is much like those of the last century. 75 Ninth Avenue, Chelsea Market, entrance on Ninth Avenue
Tomato
Vegetable sandwiches were once an important part of a homemaker’s repertoire, partly because lighter fare — especially in the South — was considered appropriate to the summer, and an excess of ripe tomatoes were available. Hence the tomato sandwich, using the season’s sweetest specimens on good bread thickly spread with mayonnaise. A reasonable facsimile of that sandwich can be found in the heirloom tomato sando ($13.50) at Papa D’Amour, featuring sliced heirloom tomatoes, tarragon cream cheese, shallots, and a dash of balsamic vinegar — as if the tomatoes weren’t quite good enough on their own. 64 University Place, Greenwich Village
Cucumber
Meanwhile, cucumber sandwiches, often with the crusts daintily cut off — were once de rigueur at tea parties and bridge club get-togethers — places where light and tidy fare was desirable. Nowadays rare, these sandwiches can be found at Tea & Sympathy, in the small, staunchly British enclave of the West Village. The sandwich ($7.50) has a certain American messiness, but the subtle vegetal flavors and overall juiciness prevail. 108 Greenwich Avenue, West Village
MIA sandwiches
Sadly, some sandwiches I looked for were missing in action. I couldn’t find a single deli that stocked olive loaf — like bologna studded with green olives and their pimentos. An olive loaf sandwich tasted something like today’s mortadella on olive focaccia.
Neither could I find a deviled ham sandwich, made with a pink, finely minced product flavored with vinegar and mustard and dug out of a can, very spreadable.
A decade ago, pimento cheese sandwiches were prevalent here, a Southern specialty of cheddar mashed with cream cheese, mayo, and pimentos flavored with pickle juice. You’ll still find pimento cheese served with crackers in dive bars — but you’re going to have to make your own sandwich.
Know where to find any of the missing sandwiches, or have some lost sandwich ideas of you own? Please tell me in the comments.
Sardines and raw onion, ideally on black bread!
Ham Salad, the best of the forgotten!!!