As I was too excited and hungry to have foresight, I have no evidence of what I am about to describe, but you can believe and taste with your imagination the goodness of my recently devoured sandwich. From top to bottom:
A thick slice of fresh sunflower and barley bread
Avocado, smeared on its underside
Torn coriander leaves
Crunchy iceberg lettuce
A swirl of Sriracha
Thin slices of Edam cheese
Fresh cucumber, laid in overlapping slices, and
French herb pâté
Over another thick slice of fresh sunflower and barley bread.
The only thing missing was some carrot and daikon pickle which would have made the flavour combination perfectly reminiscent of a Vietnamese baguette sandwich off the streets of Hanoi. Punchy and lively yet soothed by the subtle creaminess of pâté and fresh bread.
So, is it the comfort of good bread that makes a sandwich so fulfilling? Or the right combination of flavours that would sing together in any manifestation? Inevitably, for the most sublime sandwich, it is both. But this, I feel, being so easy to achieve, makes the sandwich a food opportunity that we should not relegate to merely an option we take when we run out of time or other 'more exciting' ingredients. Each to their own for whatever flavour and texture combinations are willing, but I'm sure many are aware that the most satisfying take can simply be a few slices of cheese, melted between two pieces of toasted bread (preferably all heated at the same time). A perfect example of the great pleasures a simple sandwich can bring.
I'm sure this wont be the last time I talk about the so-called 'humble sandwich' but until then: go to your kitchen and slap together a sandwich with fillings you like and bread you have, and be reminded of why there is nothing like a good sandwich.