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What Is A Good Cold Sandwich Recipes - Yahoo Recipe Search
Food.comOne of the nice things about having been on this earth for a extended period of time is that you get to experience many things. Some good, some bad. Some things that you remember and many things that you forget. Once in a while some thing, experience or event comes along that stays with you and provides many nice memories. One such thing for me was a coney dog. Not just any coney dog, mind you. But one that stands out — nonpareil. The ultimate coney dog. A poor man’s gastronomical delight. One that shall never come this way again. For it just wasn’t the taste of that coney dog among coney dogs: it was the aura of a bygone era. Not only did the sauce-covered wiener satisfy your appetite, but the smells, sounds and sights of the surroundings made the consumption of this king of coney dogs an event to the looked forward to, cherished and remembered for years to come. In the old days in Canton, Ohio, there was an indoor version of a farmer’s market called the Arcade Market in downtown Canton where one could get the freshest produce, meat cut to order on the spot, actually homemade items for your home and, of course, breakfast and lunch. Homer E. Dickes (Dick), a spry wisp of a man who seemed old even when I first met him as a 5-year-old kid, owned two eating venues within the old arcade. One was a sit-down counter that served lunch and breakfast. You could get that day’s version of fast food there, eggs made to order, various sandwiches, sodas and shakes, but there was one thing you couldn’t get there: that was a coney dog. For that you had to amble over toward the other side of the market, elbow your way up to a counter where Mr. Dickes himself served up coney dogs par excellence at Dick’s Coney Stand. During the rush at lunchtime you sometimes had to stand five deep and hope you got served in time to get back to work. Lunch, at least in my working years, consisted of two coney dogs washed down by an ice cold root beer. Mr. Dickes would take your order, grab his tongs and deftly fish the required number of wieners from a pot where they had been simmering since early morning. He would then take a bun or buns from a steam warmer and with a quick flick of the wrist using a long soda spoon put the perfect amount of sauce on your dog. An assistant would bring your root beer and take your money while Mr. Dickes methodically waited on the next customer. In the 30 or 40 years that I frequented Dick’s Coney Stand I don’t think I ever heard Mr. Dickes saying anything more that “What can I get you?”. He was much too busy for chit-chat and I was much too eager to consume my prize dogs to want to converse with him anyhow. Those days are long gone now, but the memories linger on. The Arcade Market was slowly pushed aside by the newly arrived aseptic and extremely mundane super markets. Dickes Coney Stand held its own against the fast food restaurants that started to populate downtown Canton, but even the popularity of his coneys couldn’t sustain the Arcade Market and keep it open. The Arcade Market finally lost its battle to serve the citizens of Canton and with its closing Dick’s Coney Stand served its last coney dog some time during the '80s. After its closing, I, along with others, would search in vain for a coney that was comparable to Mr. Dickes’. At times I would come across one that was reasonably good but the ambiance — the sights, sounds and smells of the old Arcade Market — could not be replicated from that earlier time. For years I had heard rumors that someone had the actual recipe for Mr. Dickes’ coney sauce. I was eventually given a copy of said recipe by a friend and eagerly set about making it in my home. What I was given was a pretty standard recipe for coney sauce that didn’t seem to be anything special and indeed my first few attempts at making the coney sauce didn’t produce the hoped for results. It took quite a few tries before I discovered that the secret to a good coney sauce wasn’t in the ingredients but it was in the preparation. Like all things of import, the effort put into creating something — whether it be a food item, a material object, or even a work of art — directly impacts the final result. You can use the finest ingredients, building materials or artist paints, but if individual effort is lacking, the finished item will leave something to be desired. A quick search of the Internet revealed a couple recipes that were attributed to Mr. Dickes. The one that I offer here is one that has been circulated for years by word of mouth and is popularly thought to be the original recipe from Dick’s Coney Sauce. For many years now I have served this sauce to friends and family and it is now known in my somewhat limited circle as Ken’s Famous Coney Sauce. I have freely given out the recipe but invariably I get feedback from others that they just can’t make it the same way as I do. That is probably because of the required amount of effort that it takes to make a truly great coney sauce. It takes a couple hours of intense motivated effort to make the sauce come out right. An effort that most won’t put forth for a lowly wiener.Food52Sometimes a sandwich is just a sandwich -- simple fillings slapped on bread and eaten in a hurry. But sometimes a sandwich is a meal much greater than the sum of it's parts. Many memorable sandwiches rely on a combination of ingredients that have been elevated to iconic like a PB&J or a pastrami on rye. Some take a maximalist approach, stuffing a whole meal between slices of bread. Think of the classic Thanksgiving dinner leftover sandwich, or Primanti Brothers' sandwiches stacked high with layers of coleslaw and fries. (Pittsburghers, you know what I mean!) This sandwich is an homage to both approaches... and the cross-cultural history of sushi. The journey sushi has taken from humble street food to art form to the Philadelphia roll you might pick up in a grocery store is a complicated one with influences from ancient China, Japan, Korea, and the many talented chefs honing their craft and adapting to local ingredients and palettes. Sushi, while rooted in tradition, is continuously evolving. Story has it that California rolls and spicy tuna rolls were created to appeal to North American palates and ingredient availability in the late 70s and early 80s, while bagels with lox & cream cheese inspired Madame Saito to create the Philly roll. With a nod to the delicious melding of foods and flavors that helped sushi gain popularity in the US, this sandwich includes a whole lunchbox worth of flavors on one bagel. As with a well-composed bento box, I aimed to include a variety of colors, flavors and textures; carbs, protein and veggies using ingredients as at home on a bagel as in a box of sushi. It starts with a toasted sesame bagel. Spicy Smoked Salmon Schmear is a nod to spicy tuna rolls. I used the ratio of sriracha to mayo from Tim Anderson’s Spicy Tuna Roll recipe in JapanEasy. Early sushi was made with cured fish more often than raw, so using cold-smoked salmon or lox seemed as appropriate as it is delicious in this spread. I included a rolled egg omelette for something similar to tamagoyaki -- a sushi and bento favorite. Lox and eggs also happen to be wonderful together. If you’d like something more classic than my freehand variation, check out Namiko Chen’s recipes on Just One Cookbook. The Cucumber Salad is reminiscent of both deli pickles and seaweed salad. It’s a variation of a dead-simple salad that I make — just vegetables sprinkled with vinegar and seasonings. The result is a refreshing foil for the heaviness of the salmon schmear and eggs. This sandwich is equally delightful with the fillings carefully composed on the bagel (like a bento box!) as they are layered between bagel halves. Most, if not all of the ingredients can be found at a well-stocked grocery store. But please, for the love of carbs, get yourself a really good bagel! We like Yeasty Boys or Wexler's in LA for bagels that make us East Coast transplants feel like we're back in NYC. I hope you enjoy this sandwich as much as I do!Food.comThis is delicious as a dessert or a make ahead breakfast or brunch item. The pudding can easily sit overnight in the refrigerator before baking and tastes good cold too. I use any leftovers from my Oatmeal Molasses Bread for this recipe, but as long as the bread is not sliced sandwich bread, most breads will work. The dairy can be done in a variety of ways, depending on what you have on hand. I have even made this with 1% and it turns out fine, but not as creamy.CookingLightMaking your own sauerkraut may seem like a daunting task, but it’s actually easy to prepare and just needs a little bit of babysitting as the fermentation process unfolds. The result is a most delicious science experiment. This sauerkraut has all the flavor and probiotic benefits of a traditional fermented kraut but with less salt. The cabbage has a great crunch and tang along with the added flavor from the caraway seeds. This is a traditional sauerkraut, perfect for adding to hotdogs and sandwiches, as a side with sausages or pierogies, or just straight from the jar. Here's what you need to know, followed by the recipe: Start with the Basics You don’t need any special tools to make sauerkraut—just cabbage, salt, a big jar, and your hands. But if you get serious about your "krautkraft," you might consider investing in some tools of the trade. Here are three handy tools, and their alternatives: Fermenting Crock. This will seal the kraut, while still letting gasses from the fermentation escape—and let you avoid having to "burp" it every day. However, any big jar will work. Wooden Vegetable Tamper. It can be handy, especially when making a big batch, to have something to press the cabbage with. But you can also use your hands or a wooden spoon. Glass or ceramic weights. It's important that the cabbage doesn't rise above the liquid while fermenting. But you can use anything heavy as long as it's food safe and not likely to corrode (glass and ceramic are best) This base recipe can easily be multiplied to make larger batches (an average crock can hold about 10 lbs of sliced cabbage). Be aware that the larger the batch the longer it will take to ferment. This recipe is written for a lower salt content than the average at-home sauerkraut, but you should feel free to experiment to find what suits your personal taste. In fact: you can make this recipe completely salt free! To do that, we recommend subbing in 1/2 teaspoon of celery seeds and 1/2 teaspoon of black pepper, and, because the cabbage won't release as much liquid, topping off the jar with filtered water. Speaking of Taste There's no need to stick solely to cabbage. Try using other vegetables in your kraut, such as carrots, red cabbage, Brussels sprouts, beets, or garlic, as well as other herbs and spices, such as dill seeds, celery seeds, curry powder, or red pepper flakes. Just be sure to taste the mixture as you’re making it (to make sure your flavors are what you want) and then every three days after the fermentation begins. This will help you judge when the kraut has reached the point of being “done.” Again, it’s based on your personal taste, but it’s worth it to continue to taste the kraut at different times to know what you like the best. Temperature Matters The warmer the temperature (70 degrees and above), the quicker the kraut will ferment, but it can result in a softer, less textured product. The cooler the temp (anything above freezing), the more time it will take the kraut to ferment, but the result will be a crunchier texture. The sauerkraut will keep for an extremely long time in the refrigerator after fermenting (Some people keep kraut up to a year in the refrigerator.) No need to can or “process” the mixture—the high temperature needed for canning will kill all the good bacteria. And here’s the most important thing to remember—sauerkraut is best served in its cold state. If you warm it up or cook it, you’ll kill all the good bacteria and lose all the awesome probiotic potential.Yummly_Glazed ham: A salty-sweet treat_ This glazed ham recipe calls for a one-two sweet-and-sour punch, with a ham glaze made from sweet pineapple and tangy balsamic vinegar. This baked ham is a little different, in that it doesn't require scoring a diamond pattern on the meat - this reduces prep time and you still get a delicious ham. _How did ham become an Easter tradition?_ Along with deviled eggs and hot cross buns, glazed ham is a common sight on Easter dinner tables. Legends and lore abound about why we eat ham this time of year. Ham has traditionally been served in Germany for centuries to celebrate springtime. From a practical standpoint, hams were often cured and preserved through the harsh, cold winter months, making them ready to eat when Easter rolled around, long before butchering time arrived for other animals. This may also explain why ham sometimes graces the Christmas table. _Notable ham-producing regions_ You’ll find ham throughout the world, with flavor and texture differences that vary depending on preservation method and the characteristics of the region’s meat itself. Some recognizable hams include Proscuitto di Parma from Italy, Westphalian and Black Forest ham from Germany, and Jamon Serrano and Iberico from Spain. America is also making a name for itself in ham circles with some of the best ham coming out of Southern states like Virginia and Kentucky. _How is ham made?_ Using a cut of pork from the pig’s upper leg, classic ham preparations involve preserving the meat through dry salt curing, wet brining and sometimes smoking. Dry curing entails covering the meat with salt, herbs and spices, then washing it and hanging it to dry for anywhere from several months to several years. A quicker method, wet curing immerses the ham in a salt/sugar brine or pumps the brine solution directly into the meat and lets it sit for several days up to several weeks. The meat may also be placed in a smokehouse or smoker for an extra flavor boost. _What to look for when buying a ham_ When shopping for ham, be aware that products with water or brine added are often less expensive because they have a higher water content than their meatier counterparts. Look for good coloring, a plump appearance and fresh smell. And don’t be intimidated by bone-in ham — it lends more flavor to the meat. Just like with your Thanksgiving turkey, go big to guarantee leftovers for sandwiches and snacking. If carving it intimidates you, get a spiral-cut ham and save yourself the trouble: A spiral ham comes pre-cut. If you're serving a smaller group, many stores will sell you a half ham. _A great beginner's dish_ Because ham is sold precooked, it's the perfect choice if you're cooking your first big Easter dinner, or if you're looking to reduce your holiday stress. Ham can technically be served at room temperature straight from the store: You are basically reheating it for this baked ham recipe. Remember to be sure that your roasting pan will fit the ham you buy - or buy a disposable one that fits. _Glazed over_ This pineapple-raisin glaze is wonderful, but know that ham plays nicely with a wide range of glazes and sauces. Because hams are inherently salty, sweet glaze recipes and barbecue sauces made with honey, brown sugar, maple syrup, root beer, honey mustard, ground cloves, ground cinnamon — even peanut butter! — can provide a nice flavor contrast that can really take your ham to the next level. Glazes are high in sugar and can easily burn, so you’ll want to wait until the last 15 or 20 minutes of cooking to brush them on. (For a sweet crunchy crust, crank the broiler up to high for a minute or two at the very end.) _Side dishes_ Ham pairs beautifully with simply prepared fresh seasonal vegetables like snap peas, asparagus, fava beans and spring lettuce salads, as well as new potatoes with fresh herbs. For a holiday meals, dinner rolls make a great addition (and great ham sandwiches the next day with dijon mustard and a swipe of mayo).Food NetworkI have a perfectly justifiable weakness for any recipe that comes to me passed on through someone else's family. This is not just sentimentality; I hope not even sentimentality, actually, since I have always been contemptuously convinced that sentimentality is the refuge of those without proper emotions. Yes, I do infer meaning from the food that has been passed down generations and then entrusted to me, but think about it: the recipes that last, do so for a reason. And on top of all that, there is my entrancement with culinary Americana. I just hear the word meatloaf and I feel all old world, European irony and corruption seep from me as I will myself into a Thomas Hart Benton painting. And then I eat it: the dream is dispelled and all I'm left with is a mouthful of compacted, slab-shaped sawdust and major, major disappointment. So now you understand why I am so particularly excited about this recipe. It makes meatloaf taste like I always dreamt it should. Even though this is indeed Ed's Mother's Meatloaf, the recipe as is printed below is my adaptation of it. My father-in-law always used to tell a story about asking his mother for instructions on making pickles. "How much vinegar do I need?" he asked. "Enough", she answered. Ed's mother's recipe takes a similar approach; I have added contemporary touches, such as being precise about measurements. But for all that, cooking can never be truly precise: bacon will weigh more or less, depending on how thickly or thinly it is sliced, for example. And there are many other similar examples: no cookbook could ever be long enough to contain all possible variants for any one recipe. But what follows are reliable guidelines, you can be sure of that. I do implore you, if you can, to get your meat from a butcher. I have made this recipe quite a few times, comparing mincemeat that comes from the butcher and mincemeat that comes from various supermarkets and there is no getting round the fact that freshly minced butcher's meat is what makes the meatloaf melting (that, and the onions, but the onions alone can't do it). The difficulty with supermarket mince is not just the dryness as you eat, but the correlation which is that the meatloaf has a crumblier texture, making it harder to slice. I am happy just to have the juices that drip from the meatloaf as it cooks as far as gravy goes, and not least because the whole point of this meatloaf for me is that I can count on a good half of it to eat cold in sandwiches for the rest of the week. (And you must be aware, it is my duty to make you aware, that a high-sided roasting tin makes for more juices than a shallow one.) But if you wanted to make enough gravy to cover the whole shebang hot, then either make an onion gravy and pour the meat juices in at the end or fashion a quick stovetop BBQ gravy. By that, I mean just get out a saucepan, put in it 1.76 ounces/50g dark muscovado sugar, 4.23 ounces/125ml beef stock, 4 tablespoons each of Dijon mustard, soy sauce, tomato paste or puree and redcurrant jelly and 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar, to taste. Warm and whisk and pour into a jug to serve. Ed instructed me to eat kasha with this, which is I imagine how his mother served it, but I really feel that if you haven't grown up on kasha - a kind of buckwheat polenta - then you will all too easily fail to see its charm. I can't see any argument against mashed potato, save the lazy one, but I don't mind going cross-cultural and making up a panful of polenta; I use the instant kind, but replace the water that the packet instructions advise with chicken stock. And as with the beef stock needed for the gravy suggested above, I am happy for this to be bought rather than homemade.
