Cooking 101: A Simple Sandwich For All Seasons

Today I was in the mood to cook something summery.

Now, let me be clear. By "in the mood to cook", I mean that I was only a tiny bit in the mood to cook, because I had another long day of endless driving around. That's two of those days in a row. Honestly, I was a little bit tired and cranky, and the dinner hour was closing in fast.

And by 'something summery," I mean something that would remind me of summer, but would also warm me up on a very rainy and chilly June evening.

So as I wandered around Target's grocery aisles, I felt a gravitational pull toward the fresh baked goods. Totally against my will, mind you. 

Once I laid eyes on a cute loaf of ciabatta bread, it was all over. I knew I had to build a dinner plan around that beckoning little loaf, and I knew exactly what I wanted:

A Toasted Open-Face Sandwich

Oh, this sort of dish goes by a hundred different names, most of them far more exotic than that. But I call 'em as I see 'em, and that name describes my vision perfectly. Here's how I went about it:

I took that precious bread home, sliced it open, and then cut it into six equal slices.

Then I performed the miracle of the loaves and the fishes to come up with eight slices!!

See for yourself - here I am brushing a little dab of olive oil across each of their astonished breadly faces.

Alright, fine. I performed no miracle. Originally, I cut the loaf in eight slices, because dividing by eight is easier than six. At the time, I thought I was preparing dinner for three people, so I put six slices on the baking sheet, took the first photo, and then tossed the remaining two slices into the freezer for a rainy day. 

But I guess today was that rainy day, because suddenly, another daughter came waltzing through the front door. 

Eight slices it is.

Here they are, all golden and toasty, after five or ten minutes under a hot broiler. 

Next it was time to choose some toppings, and this is where creativity comes into play. Any ingredients that will meld and melt and mush together under the broiler in an appetizing way are more than welcome on this sandwich. With the proper levels of ambition and time, the sky is truly the limit.

As I mentioned before, I was sadly lacking in both ambition and time, but I lassoed up some interesting toppings. By 'lassoed,' I mean I mostly dragged things out of the fridge. By "interesting," I mean I mostly used what I had on hand.

Mushrooms are always welcome on my sandwiches. Thinly sliced, plopped in my small cast iron skillet with a smidge of olive oil, and sauteed to a nice golden brown. Yum.

Store-bought tomatoes are hardly worth the effort, but until the garden crop comes in, I will pretend they are. Sliced black olives are an easy add. Normally, I would choose fresh basil leaves over fresh spinach any day. But I had lots of spinach and my basil plants are not ready for harvesting yet. 

And cheese. Cheese, obviously, is essential to this dish. Cheese, obviously, is essential to this life. 

As you can see, I caught a cheese burglar in the act. She was convicted of a possession charge, and is currently serving out her sentence in cheese jail. That ought to teach her.

Now, with all the toppings in place, I was ready to throw my change-up pitch. I called in all the diners and set them to work creating their own sandwiches. This strategy afforded me two important advantages:

1. By choosing their own toppings, everyone was guaranteed to be especially satisfied with their meal. Or at least, they wouldn't have me to blame.

2. In order to make room for all the sandwich chefs, I was forced to vacate the kitchen and go put my feet up in a quiet room for a few minutes. Bazinga.

Now under the broiler again for another five or ten - just watch for the cheese to turn golden and start to bubble.

Onto the plate and ready to eat. With a splash of fresh blueberries, this sandwich looked like summer and tasted like warm. Just what I had in mind for a blustery June evening.