S is for Seattle and its Sandwiches

I would maintain that sandwiches are in my top five foods. This is not my first time addressing this theme. In a previous post I gushed about Cicil's, my most favorite sandwich stall in downtown San Francisco. In truth, my recently adopted job requirement of eating and making an overwhelming amount of sandwiches has perhaps muted their novelty slightly. Yet, the call of a good sandwich still tugs at my heart strings and probably always will.

Seattle, it turns out, is a sandwich Garden of Eden. Two astonishingly delicious sandwiches have spiraled down towards my belly during these last few weeks and their memory makes my mouth water and my belly glow from the inside out.

1) Act One: Bahn Mai, Pho Cylo. 1st and Lander.
There is a vibrant Vietnamese restaurant scene here. Pho is on many, many corners. It helps that I work near the International District (most of which is of some Asian bend) but because there are glittering signs declaring "BEST PHO EVER IN THE WORLD RIGHT HERE" on so many blocks, it makes a skeptic out of even the biggest Pho enthusiast. As a non-meater (did I just make that up? ever notice that meat and eater share a lot of letters?...yesssss), I'm not actually a Pho devotee but where there are Pho joints it turns out Vietnamese sandwiches, called Bahn Mai, often trail closely behind. My appreciation for Vietnamese sandwiches is easily credited to my parents. On many of their numerous trips to San Francisco (long before I lived there) they made a point of stopping at their favorite Vietnamese sandwich place on 9th and Irving. In retrospect I'm not sure it was their favorite, it was just the one they knew about, knew how to get to, and was easily accessible, and then they decided it was good enough, great even, to never need to find another one. My new boss is a legitimate Bahn Mai enthusiast. And he tipped me off that great ones could be found just a few blocks from our office. On a day that really just required a fine Bahn Mai, I struck out to see if I could somehow get some kind of a porkless mock-up. Leave it to these progressive Pacific Northwesters, my eyes immediately settled on Vegetarian Bahn Mai; same business but with tofu instead of pork. This sandwich arrived rightfully warm, the bread was a spectacularly crispy french roll, the sandwich was laden with thin strips of tofu braised in that indescribable sauce that smacks of soy, fish, perhaps a bit of suger and chili. It's guts were a heady mix of shredded carrots, cilantro (which I know belongs in there but still makes me gag-- more on my enzymatic shortcomings later), and sliced chilies. Damn, that's a good Sam.

2) Act Two: Caribbean Tofu, Paseos. Fremont btw. 42nd and 43rd.
I have a buddy up here who I sailed with in college and who is now in medical school at U Dub. He is a fabulous human, a native Seattlite (can I just call him a Satellite?) and in the know about many things. I picked him up en route to a Cinco de Mayo/Kentucky Derby party during which I lost $10 on a stupid horse that I was sure would win...thanks Tiago...you are a terrible galloper, enjoy the glue factory. Andy says we have to make a stop at the Caribbean sandwich place before we go to Ballard. I have no idea what's in a Caribbean sandwich, I assume meat-- Andy confirms. Then follows with "hmmmm....I'm pretty sure they have something non-meat. You eat seafood. Maybe shrimp..." then he pulls out his phone and calls. I already love this place because it is a sandwich joint outside of the U District that is good enough for Andy to keep in his phone. He calls and asks what non-meat things they have. "Tofu...and shrimp." Then he places our order for us. We fight heinous traffic to get to Fremont. We arrive thirty five minutes after our sandwiches were supposed to be ready. There is a crowd of folks congregating outside of this little red house emitting drool-worthy smells of sauteed onions. We walk inside and directly up to the counter. There are two sandwiches waiting for us. The few tables inside are filled. The cashier is a kid--eh maybe twenty years old. His eyes are huge, he is throwing money around, looking up for a second, making sure sandwiches are getting into the right hands. There a four or five people bustling around a griddle behind him. It's hotter than hell in there. We leave the sandwiches wrapped up until we get to our friends' house. The hope being that whatever essence of warmth that remained inside the bread might still be in tact. When we actually get around to eating them (after placing bets and getting tall cups of mint juleps) they are in surprisingly good shape. Right off the bat I arrive at this conclusion: these sandwiches are not good date food. There is no way to stay clean, no way to keep it out of the spaces between your teeth, off your face, lap, or shirt. You have to make-out with this sandwich to get to it at all. It's big and bulky and overflowing. It's a thousand calorie sandwich-- unless it's more than that-- which is possible. Note to self, wait until a third or maybe fifth date before engaging in this circus act. There are mounds of caramelized onions, melty cheese, tofu braised in some kind of jerk sauce, unidentified seasoning, lettuce that is "wilted" to put it kindly. I think some tomatoes, definitely a mayonnaise blend (ordinarily not my favorite but it definitely worked here) and jalapenos. This sandwich is dope: literally and figuratively. If I wasn't concerned about my girlish figure I would probably make a habit out of it.

In other news, god bless the internet for sparing no piece of hard-to-find fact. After my last entry about Nana and Zaidee I consulted with my brother and hyper-pondered about what that delicious short-lived animal cereal actually was. My brother, who is way more tech savvy than me, was skeptical that I would be able to figure it out online given I had no concrete information other than "animal cereal". I narrowed it down by adding the search term "80's animal cereal". This brilliant query led me to a site that had known 80's cereals alphabetized. The problem was that each letter had its own page, and I had no idea what the cereal was called. So I just started at A. After a few minutes I found it. I'm thinking of writing Post a letter and seeing if they would put out a limited edition box for my twenty fifth birthday (which happened two months ago...shhhhh).

So things have been good. Good sandwiches, good cereal re-discovery. Good times. S is for sandwiches, and if I were illiterate I'd say S was for cereal too.