Category: sandwiches

Some coworkers and I went to Oliver’s Eatery for lunch yesterday. At the time, they described it as being similar to Baker Bros, but different in some manner which I can't quite recall at the moment. At any rate, as I rather enjoy Baker Bros, I thought I’d give it a shot.

As I approached the counter, I noticed that the menu was divided into sections for salads, sandwiches, pasta, and perhaps one or two others. I’m not one to pass up a good sandwich, and so I perused their offerings — their club sandwich immediately caught my eye and, voila, I ordered one. After paying at the counter, the clerk handed me one of those familiar buzzing-light-up squares to take back to my seat.

I gathered my sandwich accouterments — a napkin and some flatware — and enjoyed some chit-chat with my coworkers while my sandwich was being prepared. Jeremy’s pasta arrived first, and then one or two other coworker's meals, but mine arrived soon after that. As I took my plate back to my table, the first thing that struck me was the subtlety of the sandwich itself: unlike a club sandwich that you might find at Chain Restaurant XYZ, Oliver’s club wasn’t stacked to the ceiling merely for the sake of doing so. Still, it had all the necessary elements — roasted turkey, cheddar, bacon, lettuce and tomatoes.

Upon biting into the sandwich, I knew I had a winner. The sandwich was both hot and cold — a good thing — from the hot just-melted cheddar and cold meat and cheeses. As I enjoyed my first bite, I knew something was extraordinary about the sandwich, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. It was like a bit like the feeling of trying to remember “Where did I see that guy before?” when watching a movie…

Finally, it dawned on me: the sandwich was made with real cheddar cheese. Not “real cheddar cheese” as a marketing ploy, but actual from-the-cow cheese. Part of what clued me in was that the cheese hadn't melted uniformly; now, cheddar isn’t supposed to melt evenly (that would be gruyère’s job), but it’s not uncommon for fake-cheddars to melt with T-1000-like consistency.

Pleasantly, the bread was also a key player in the sandwich. It was either white or wheat bread — I wasn't quite sure since it was browned due to the toasting — but it was fairly thin. I’d guess each of the slices was around 1/4 to 1/3" thick which, if you as me, is how it should be for a club sandwich (after all, the meat and cheeses are the star of a club sandwich)

Looking over their web page, it would appear that there's only one Oliver’s restaurant (as opposed to being a franchise with several locations). Well, drat to that. I mean, sure, it’s convenient that they’re close to work (they just off Frankford Road and the Tollway), but it would have been even nicer if there was one close to my home as well. I guess I’ll just have to make use of them during my working hours. C’est la vie.

I went to the Dallas Camera Club this evening and tonight was their “Bird Competition”, a competition between the Fort Worth and Dallas Camera Clubs, so called because the trophy is consists mostly of a bird statue (no, I don’t see the significance either).

Both clubs attended the meeting and a set of judges scored photos selected by each club in real-time (that is, the judging was in real-time, not the selection). And, to make for a more jovial atmosphere, everyone brought along snacks or drinks (a bit like a pot-luck / photography competition, you could say). I made a point of avoiding the sugary snacks, but there were some sandwiches which caught my eye. They were obviously hand-made and with decent bread to boot.

Just from looking at them, I couldn’t descern exactly what was in the sandwiches; but, I was able to figure out most of it. And I liked each of the ingredients:

• Rye bread, cut diagonally
• Sliced hard-boiled eggs
• Black olives
• Mayonnaise

I selected a sandwich-half and placed it on a Styrofoam plate as I walked back to my seat. Keeping in mind that I’ve never had an egg-salad sandwich — not that I have anything against them — I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I mean, sure, I’ve had omelettes and other egg preparations but not eggs right in a sandwich.

I suppose I expected more as I bit into it; I think I was expecting a coherent team effort among the ingredients. Instead, it resembled a mere collection of the ingredients sharing a common point in space. All the same, I was left wondering whether this was perhaps a sub-par execution of a more traditional sandwich recipe (like an egg-muffaletta or something?).

Along those lines, I loaded up AllRecipes and checked their section on sandwiches. I did a search for “egg sandwich” and “egg olive sandwich” but I couldn't find one that quite matched the sandwich I had. Maybe this evening’s sandwich was a more obscure recipe, or maybe it was just way off from an established recipe.

All the same, I did run across a recipe for Lindsay® Olive Tea Sandwiches. It’s far different from the sandwich I had, but it looks positively delectable. Olives, sun-dried tomatoes, basil, pine nuts and cream cheese — how can you go wrong? The primary disadvantage to that sandwich, it seems, are the ingredients themselves. After all, who regularly keeps pine nuts in his/her fridge? But, that may just mean that I’ll have to make a trip to Central Market as part of a sandwich-making mission.

I was walking around Snider Plaza last weekend and I was getting a bit peckish since it was nearing 3:00 at the time. At that moment, I passed by Plaza Health Foods. Normally, I'd keep on walking, but the lettering on the awning caught my eye: “Health Food * Vitamins * Sandwiches”. Curious as to what kind of sandwiches a health food store might have, I stepped in.

To little surprise, most of the store was shelves and shelves of vitamins and other elixirs. But, towards the back was a lunch counter. And as I walked closer, I saw a chalkboard listing the sandwiches available. Among them, there was turkey & swiss, ham & cheese and tuna. And, as I was reading it, the store owner walked up and asked if he could help me. I mentioned that I was just looking over the sandwiches and he offered that an additional sandwich not listed was their chicken salad sandwich.

I hadn’t eaten a chicken salad sandwich in quite a while and that did seem tempting. But, there was also a something-and-avocado sandwich on the board (“turkey and avocado”, I think) that taunted me. I just can’t resist avocado and I was drawn to it; but, the chicken salad still beckoned. Taking a chance, I asked the owner if I could get a chicken salad sandwich with avocado. He readily agreed and relayed my order to a girl behind the counter.

A few minutes later, my sandwich was ready: wheat bread along with chicken salad, avocado, lettuce and tomato. It wasn’t overstuffed or Dagwooderized, but just a respectable size. As I took a bite, I was surprised by how good thes sandwich was — the ripe avocado blended perfectly with the creamy chicken salad. But, the best part was the bread. It wasn’t that thick, maybe a quarter inch, but it was virtually unprocessed wheat. There were so many granules and knobbly bits that it was like eating wheat gravel.

I’ve had some good sandwiches in Dallas, but that was one of the best. It wasn't terribly fancy, but all of the ingredients came together so well. And, the bread was astounding in its own right — had I loaf of it at home, I could imagine just taking out a slice from the bag and nibbling on it plain. I wasn’t expecting much from a sandwich in a health food store — just some nourishment to keep me going — but this sandwich just about made my day.

I was working late the other day and, by the time I got back to my apartment, it was a bit late to go about making dinner. So, I surveyed my fridge door for coupons. There were the usual items — pizza, wings and so on — but I wasn’t much in the mood for those. I briefly considered a burrito from Chipotle or Freebirds (both of which are nearby), but that seemed like too much food at the time.

A sandwich seemed like a good idea and I was about to go for Quiznos — if it weren’t for the fact that I had opened by credit card bill only moments earlier and noticed that I had been to Quiznos four times in as many weeks. In lieu of Quiznos, Schlotsky’s seemed like a good alternative. And, because I didn’t want to get there only to end up standing in front of the counter staring at the menu while I made my decision, I decided to check out their menu online ahead of time.

What I noticed on their front page right away was a new item, their “Grilled Chicken Romano Panini”. As it’s described on their home page, the panini has “grilled chicken breast and melted Gruyère cheese with sweet red peppers and fresh baby spinach on freshly toasted slices of Artisan bread”. That sounded pretty good to me, especially since I couldn’t even recall when last I had Gruyère on a sandwich.

The Schlotsky’s near me is only about a quarter mile away and it didn’t take long to get there. There was hardly anyone there, so I walked right up to the counter and ordered the panini. As I handed over my credit card to pay for it, the lady behind the counter verbally dispatched my order to the sandwich maker in the back (which wasn’t really “in the back” as the sandwich-making area was more to the side of the cashiers).

I could see him building the sandwich and I watched as he started with two slices of bread and added the chicken, red peppers and Gruyère. Then, to my horror, he omitted the most important part of the panini-making process: the panini press. In traditional panini-making, the sandwich is assembled and then placed between two hot metal plates which are pressed together. However, that technique was not employed this time; rather, my panini to-be was sent through the toasting-conveyor-belt just like any other Schlotsky’s sandwich.

Sure, the bread became toasted and crunchy, but it wasn’t really a true panini anymore. The distinction may seem subtle, but the benefit of the pressing process is that all of the ingredients meld together. In particular, the cheese oozes into the cracks and crevices within the bread to form a type of delicious hybrid cheese-bread. As it was, my Gruyère did melt, but only onto the surrounding chicken and peppers. I was denied any cheese-to-bread integration.

In fairness to Schlotsky’s, the sandwich was still decent (by normal sandwich standards).There were plenty of morsels of lean chicken and the red pepper was tender and sweet. As a Chicken + Something sandwich, I might have even been inclined to recommend it to friends. But why would they assume the panini persona if they were only panini poseurs at heart? I can’t say that this has soured me on Schlotsky’s, but I could really go for a good panini after having almost attained one.

Since working at RD2, I’ve been enlightened to sandwichy-goodness of Roly Poly. I hadn’t even heard of them before working here, but I’ve probably had their sandwiches at least once or twice a week since I started. They make regular sandwiches but rolled in a tortilla. And not only are their sandwich recipes innovative, but their ingredients are far above what you’d normally expect from a quick food restaurant.

They have dozens of sandwiches on their menu and I’ve been working my way through the varieties. So far, the Cobb Salad sandwich may be my favorite (with both avocado and bacon, how can you go wrong?). In any case, I decided to get a Roly Poly sandwich for dinner a couple days ago and I wanted to give their turkey sandwiches a chance.

I settled on the California Turkey sandwich which has, among other things, turkey, cheddar, bacon and avocado. I placed my order over the phone for pick-up and it was ready as soon as I got there. So, I paid and headed back home. I unwrapped the sandwich from its paper and grabbed a plate.

As I ate the sandwich, I couldn’t deny that it was full of turkey — it definitely had plenty of turkey flavor. However, there was another flavor that I couldn’t quite identify — a subtle sweetness that I couldn’t ignore. At first, I thought it might be a honey mustard, but there was no honey mustard listed on the menu for this one. I then considered whether perhaps I was encountering the natural sweetness of a ripe vegetable, but that didn't seem to be be it either.

After a few more bites, I realized that it wasn’t just a general sweetness, it was a soggy sweetness — from the dressing itself. Some of the dressing had already began to seep out the back of the sandwich (onto the plate) and I took a closer look to see if that would provide any clues. As I looked over the dressing, I noticed that it was mostly clear but thick and full of colored specks. Aha — Italian Dressing!

So, that resolved the dressing conundrum, but the sweetness? I soon realized that Roly Poly must be using a mass-market Italian Dressing: I hadn’t realized it until I started cutting my sugar intake (and reading more about hidden sugars in foods) but Italian Dressing is full of sugar. Right after water, oil and vinegar on the ingredients list — and before any of the actual spices — is high fructose corn syrup (bleh). So, that must have been what I was encountering in my sandwich.

The sandwich, perhaps contrary to what its creator intended, ended up as a sugary turkey sandwich. That’s not to say that it was bizarre enough for me not to eat the rest of it, but I pondered giving up on it a few times. And, if you’re particularly astute, you may have already noticed that Roly Poly’s menu specifies ”ranch dressing” (and not Italian) with their California Turkey sandwich (I only just noticed this myself). I'm certain that the dressing in my sandwich was Italian, so I can only figure that they gave me #11 by mistake.

In that case, maybe their California turkey sandwich is still worth trying after all. Still, don’t get the wrong idea about Roly Poly — their sandwiches are fantastic. I mean, I wouldn’t be eating them every week if they weren’t. But, if you’ve reduced your sugar intake, perhaps avoid the sandwiches with Italian dressing — they may end up tasting a bit like they've had a sugar marinade.