"There's no good deli in town, and that kills me. I've even thought about having one day a week here be old-school deli day. We could do knishes and bagels, make our own pastrami. It's just the space won't work for it," Feldmiller says.
On Wednesday, he talked about why he just can't seem to get out of the kitchen, and yesterday, he explained why green peppers aren't on the menu at Cafe Europa. But today, we're talking sandwiches, and Feldmiller offers his take on the greatest possible sandwich.
It starts with good bread. We used to have a baker here, Chris Glenn, who made the best bread in town. I'd like a naturally leavened French peasant loaf — a pain au levain. It would be crusty with a chewy integrity and nice crumb but not too sour.
Then you add on some good mustard. A brown mustard with just a little bit of spice. You don't want to overwhelm the sandwich — we're building layers of flavor. In all sandwich-making cultures, there's something pickle-y on it — a kraut or the pickled veggies on a banh mi. It adds the sourness and crunch that you're not going to get with lettuce. Maybe a nice cabbage slaw, vinegar-based for a bit more acid.
Then some sort of pork. And with pork, you have so many options. Right now, maybe a roasted, salt- and sugar-cured pork. Belly can be a little too much fat, and I want this sandwich to be big. So let's use pork shoulder or Boston butt.
Maybe a nice mild cheese. A bit of funk, semisoft, but nothing that would take away from what we're building. Maybe like a Morbier (a semisoft cow's-milk cheese from France).
That might do it. I'm not a fan of raw vegetables, although a tomato is great in the summertime. Right now, it probably wouldn't work. Maybe a bit of shaved red onion for a little bit of bite and a little slick of olive oil.
Then you've got a 7-, 8-inch sandwich, enough to comfortably split with two people. The kind of thing you'd get with a buddy and eat with a bag of chips.
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