THE B-SIDE roast chicken + slab bacon + cranberry boursin + brie

Don't get me wrong, there are some b-sides that are amongst my top fave songs from a band, but they end up as b-sides for a reason. I really had high hopes for this sandwich. If you look closely at the photos, you might even be able to tell I tried making this one twice. But despite my efforts, it just didn't turn out like I was hoping. I mean... it looks ok and all. I didn't throw it in the gutter. But it didn't have the majesty some sandwiches have. I'm putting it out there anyway, for anyone who will quietly gravitate towards it's chaotic, misunderstood, maybe overlooked beauty.

THE BLUE SNAPPER breaded snapper + blue cheese + brown tartar

Middle-class poor is when you haven't earned the things you think you deserve, but work out affording them anyway. Here's a sandwich that was straight up, out of my daily food budget, and FUCK, it was worth it.

Rant to follow, holler if you #relate:
"AND THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS!" ...is something that got said surprisingly a lot in some of my former households, and apartments with my friends through our early and mid 20s. Whether it was just being too drunk to take care of our stuff, or too drunk not to loose it, throwing hazardously crowded parties, or being too hungover to... I'm sure there was more to it than that. Cats? Was it... no, we didn't have cats. ANYWAY. I'm at a point now in life, where I'm realizing I CAN have nice things. I'm an "adult" now (sort of)... I can, have nice things. I just... don't really?

THE WALK IN THE PARK red anjou pear grilled cheese

The sandwich is sublime, and memorable, without an ounce of try-hard. Like my favourite shirt, I could eat it every day of the week, but instead break it out with the infrequency to keep it special. 

This sandwich, for me, will always be a classic. It's effortless, yet impressive. Simple, while still totally indulgent. It's a laid back, unpretentious grilled cheese, with sophistication. Like the sandwich equivalent of linen. It's also a top shelf idea for any occasion, any company. It's my take on a sandwich I used to order all the time at my favourite food spot in Toronto. On lazy days, or days, I would head out across Trinity Bellwoods park, visit the small galleries down the Ossington strip, then hang a left, and head for my favourite park-adjacent brunch hangout. It's got a classic, 50s diner layout, but none of the kitch. It boasts an all teak bar, with crystal glassware shelved behind, a vintage beverage fridge, and an open-air oyster icebox. The booths are small and intimate, each with a tall coat stand, that serves as a canopy in the cold months, with so many coats. The menu is short, and very carefully chosen. It's the kind of place I couldn't afford at night, but my friends and I used to frequent the brunch menu. We'd get a few dishes, share them around. It's simple food, done with an instinctual flourish. My favourite was their grilled cheese with bartlett pear, served with a chilli tomato compote, and a side of olives. It was a ritual I'd do when I needed out of a funk, or any time I'd have an out of town visitor. That, and a walk back through the park, could cure anything. 

THE "VERY ADULT" sweet potato grilled cheese

When you're younger, your older friends always seemed so grown up. They had things figured out. It could sometimes have made them seem slightly intimidating, but ultimately, you weren't threatened, because you knew by the time you were their age, you would have all the same things figured out too. Hahaha. Then when you're 27, you realize you're older now, than your older friends then, and you're still struggling like hell. And that makes you feel old. I had a good conversation with a friend the other day about this, and not comparing yourself to people who aren't you. What those people have is what they want, and you don't have to want that too. It's not race, you'll have what you want when you're ready to work at it, and it's ok if still wandering makes you feel old, sometimes. Pat yourself on the back for the things you've figured out, and remember, you hate yourself because you do nothing and have a grilled cheese. 

Here's a slightly more adult version of the simple childhood grilled cheese we all know and love. If you feel no nostalgia for that pan fried, orange cheese, crispy little sandwich, that tastes of never ending afternoons, and concentrated, gooey bliss, you have probably died inside. Go watch some Care Bears. Last photo even shows it with *gasp* ketchup. 

Scratch that. I'm gonna eat a grilled cheese, and watch The Jetsons. But like, before I was old enough to realize how 1950s sexist The Jetsons is.

roast beets + goat gouda + pesto grilled cheese

I'm very well obsessed with grilled cheeses lately. So I'm doing the tour around the selection at my local cheese outposts. This one is a goat gouda. Probably a running favourite. Not goaty, not piquant, but rounded, and far from tame. Damn. While I usually lean towards milky, extra aged cheddars, this one's kind of the perfect cheese. 

The Isemanburger

It's about time this blog got some MEAT.

I'm always intrigued when a restaurant has a namesake on the menu. It means they're repping it as their best offering, and in the case of a burger, it's the way they think it's best served. The way that has the staying power to anchor that menu, something people tell their friends about, and can keep coming back for for years. I wouldn't say I'm huge into burgers or anything, but a few weeks ago, when I had some friends visiting, they were positively salivating for a burger one afternoon. I scoured around the great selection of kraft restaurants in this restauro-centric neighbourhood I live in, and it turned out, the closest one had a burger on the menu, only one, and it was the item given the honour of carrying the restaurant's namesake. And furthermore, it was the tastiest sounding burger on offer. We went. We ordered 3 of the same. We ate. We collapsed in a pleasure-and-rendered-fat-dazed stupor. I won't tell you what was in it, because I don't want to upstage this post, but I'll share that later that week, I couldn't get the burger out of my mind. I went back, but alas, they are closed on Mondays, so I thought it best to march over to a burger-specific joint. Nice, local, well-fed, ethical meat, done as many ways as one could want to chose from, and they too, had a namesake burger. And as it happened, that was the burger with all the with-all that I most wanted. And it was good. So the week after that, I still couldn't shake this hankering for burgers. I decided to get a few patties at the local organic farmer's market near me, and make a signature burger of my own. This is the way I find myself topping a burger every time I make them. I just don't think there's a better way to serve a burger. So voilà, THE ISEMANBURGER.

Behold, gluten-free "bread" :(

Gluten-free "bread": a continuing farce in the life of a gluten-intolerant lover of glutenous foods.



Life is a cruel joke.

HOLY SHIT!

I am happy to announce, Glorious Sandwiches will be returning April 2013.