The Love Language of Sandwiches

And a muffuletta recipe we’ve crushed on for years

Issue 22: From Dana

If you ask me, there’s no greater act of love in the kitchen than making someone a sandwich. 

I’m not talking about a ham-and-cheese-from-the-deli kind of sandwich (though those serve their purpose). I’m not even talking about something resembling a fancy restaurant sandwich with pedigreed ingredients. The kind of sandwich I’m talking about is made just for you and is so perfect in every way you want to cry when you eat it because you can taste the love in every bite. 

To do it right takes time and consideration. You have to personalize each sandwich with everyone’s individual tastes in mind—that’s the point. In my family, that means no tomatoes or mustard for Jack, extra mayo and the doughy part of the bread removed for Lindsay, and always extra greens and banana peppers for me. 

You have to be careful about the order of operations to ensure structural integrity: lettuce and dressing on top of the meat so the cheese doesn’t get soggy, pickles and other odd-shaped bits nestled on the bottom bun so they don’t fall out. 

It’s an art, really, and a great one to introduce kids to because the lessons in sandwich-making are legion. The important considerations you face as a cook—balancing tastes, considering textures, experimenting with sauces and condiments and funky fermented things that can make a dish pop, being resourceful about what you have and what you’re inspired by—are all at play between two slices of bread (or one, if you’re open-facing it.)