SANDWICHES

If you know me, you will know that I have a semi-unhealthy addiction to sandwiches.  

Here's a few beauties that I have found across this great land we call America.

 

Tartine Bakery & Café

600 Guerrero St.

San Francisco, CA 94110

www.tartinebakery.com

 

Pictured Sandwich:

Turkey breast

Provolone

Broccoli rabe pesto

Toasted sourdough

 

I came back to San Francisco to meet up with a friend.  I was there for a few days and wanted to check out the sights.  Boss and I stumbled upon a festival celebrating the 50th anniversary of the summer of love in the Haight-Ashbury area of San Fran.  After seeing all of the eclectic energy of the town, we set off to get something to eat.  Again, my friend Amol recommended the Tartine bakery.  It was ranked as the #1 bakery in the United States by the New York Times recently.  Being a sucker for delicious bread, this place seemed like the perfect spot.

We walked up on the restaurant and the first thing we noticed was the line that stretched from inside the restaurant, out the door and around the block.  Knowing Boss’ disgust for lines, I left him in the car, windows cracked, in a shady parking spot.

I set off on my own to wait in line and see what Tartine had to offer.  I took a spot at the end of the line, put in my headphones and prepared myself to wait for who knows how long to get my sandwich.

45 minutes passed.  Johnny Cash soothed my way through the line.

I finally walked inside of Tartine and I realized what all the hype was about.  A thick earthy mix of baked bread and the aroma of worn wooden floors that are walked by the hundreds of patrons daily filled the tiny room.  It was a heavy smell, almost like the building itself was a part-chef as the years of history reached out through the ages and helped give the bread inside that extra je ne sais quoi that took it from great to spectacular.

I ordered a croissant and a turkey sandwich from a man with a full head of tattoos behind the counter.  To top it off, I figured a flute of Prosecco would make the perfect addition after my long day exploring the city.

I took a seat with my croissant and waited for the sandwich.  The croissant, although I could tell it had been sitting for a little while, was excellent.  It was crisp and flaky on the outside that opened into soft, buttery flavor that melted in my mouth as I at bite after bite.

The sandwich came and I was overwhelmed.  It looked to me to be three sandwiches and I wondered, even with my voracious appetite, if I would be able to finish it.  Here’s the break down.

Sandwich One

The sandwich was served panini-style, with buttery brown grill marks on the sourdough bread.  Biting into the crisp bread opened up an ocean of flavor.  The broccoli pesto burst with power and a lingering of spice was left on the back of my tongue.  They chose to pair it with a melted Provolone cheese, which seemed like a safe choice to me.  It melted into the pesto and absorbed its flavor instead of bursting with its own flavor.

I took another sip of my Prosecco.  It fizzled and cleansed my palate.  I finished the first sandwich and licked my fingers, ready for the next two rounds.

Sandwich Two

I was hungry.  I had been outside all day and had a voracious appetite.  I devoured sandwich two with no interest in flavor or complexity.  The sandwich slowly melted into a fiery bowl that danced in my stomach.  I noticed the intensity of the broccoli-flavored pesto.  It seeped into the provolone and made a thick, heavy goo that coated the turkey and glued the sandwich together between the two crispy ends of sourdough.  It was gone before I knew it.  I was getting full.

Sandwich Three

It started getting soggy.  It was still good, but I was full from the previous two.  The butter and grease started to melt out of the sourdough and drip onto the plate.  Despite the cries from my organs, I finished the third sandwich and crammed the last little bit into my stomach.  I thought of the Romans for a moment, but the last gulp of Prosecco provided the much-needed effervescence to balance me out.

I waddled to the car where Boss was waiting patiently.  We drove back to the hostel and I slept in blissful gastro-euphoria.

Miller’s East Coast Delicatessen

1725 Polk St.

San Francisco, CA 94109

www.millerseastcostdeli.com

 

Pictured sandwich:

Corned beef

Swiss cheese

Reuben dressing

Sauerkraut

Toasted rye bread

 

I was heading out of San Francisco to tour the wine country of Sonoma and Napa Valley when I decided I needed something powerful to get me through the trip.  On the recommendation of a chef friend of mine, I wondered over to Miller’s East Coast Delicatessen.  It was a hole-in-the-wall place that anyone could easily pass by.  But, whenever Amol tells me a place is good, I b-line it there as soon as possible.

Miller’s is like an old timey diner almost with a small grill in the front of the building and a dozen or so tables in the back.  I fumbled with my order, mainly because of the night of adventuring (drinking) the night before on the Fisherman’s wharf on the north side of San Fran.  I ordered the Ruben and a side of coleslaw for lunch and sat down awkwardly in a middle table in the back of the restaurant.

It took a minute for the sandwich to arrive, but when it did, my eyes widened, my stomach growled and my mouth began to water.  The waitress set before me the most magnanimous Reuben sandwich I have ever seen.  It was packed, layer after layer of corned beef and topped dripping with sauerkraut and Reuben sauce.  The toasted rye bread was barely holding the sandwich together, the flared toothpicks struggling to keep the sandwich together.  I was in love.

Let me take an aside.  I eat a lot of sandwiches.  A lot.  This Reuben from Miller’s was one of the best sandwiches I have ever had in my life.  The bread was perfectly toasted and crisp with a buttery flavor that enhanced the flavor of the sourdough.  Then there was the meat.  All 50 layers of it.  It was juicy and decadent and melted in my mouth, despite its awesome size.  I wanted to bathe in a pool full of this corned beef, it was so good.  There was even a smoky hint from the grill that had cooked thousands of these before that lingered in the back of my mouth.

The coleslaw sucked.  It was bland and without any inspiration whatsoever.  However, I would have eaten a side of dirt and enjoyed this sandwich more than almost any sandwich I have ever had.

If you are ever in San Fran with an appetite.  Go to Miller’s and thank me later.

Two Sons’ Sandwiches

2249 17th St.

San Francisco, CA 94103

www.twosonssandwiches.com

Don-Dada sandwich

 

Pictured Sandwich:

Salami

Ham

Mortadella

Provolone

Mayo

Mustard

Lettuce

Tomato

Onion pickle

Dutch Crust bread

 

We rolled into San Francisco from Yosemite and I was hungry.  Driving around the mountains brings a hunger that can only be satiated by either a thick ribeye steak or a meaty stack of cold cuts.  The latter would be the choice for the day.  Boss and I pulled up outside of Two Son’s Sandwiches near downtown San Francisco.  I had found this place randomly and was excited to see what they had to offer.

The place was a no-frills delicatessen with racks of cured meat hanging from the ceiling.  All walks of life had gathered there that afternoon for what I assumed was a late lunch and the line stretched out the door.  I strolled up to the counter and ordered one of the crowd favorites, the Don-Dada sandwich.  It was a sandwich that boasted all the best pork-cured meats.  I chose to get the Dutch Crunch bread, a local favorite that I had never tried before. I grabbed a coke and some chips and sat down to wait on my feast.

A few minutes later, the Don-Dada arrived.  I was in awe of its thickness.  The meat was stacked in at least 10 layers of a variety and the Dutch Crust bread’s size added to its size.  I was impressed and scared at the same time. This one would be a challenge to get through.

I started to chow down. 

The Don-Dada is the Italian sandwich for Italian sandwich lovers.  It was thick and meaty and had all the right toppings.  It was simple, but reminded me of the sandwiches my mom would make me back in elementary school.  It had an old-school flavor done in such a way that would give mom a run for her money.

It wasn’t too long before the Don-Dada was Don-Done.  If this was any representation of what San Francisco had to offer, I was in for a treat.

South Coast Deli

10 E Carrillo St.

Santa Barbara, CA 93101

www.southcoastdeli.com

When in Rome sandwich

 

Pictured Sandwich:

Sliced chicken breast

Toasted almond and sage pesto

Lemon mayo

Pecorino cheese

Arugula

Toasted Italian roll

 

We cruised into Santa Barbara after spending a few nights on the California coast north of Santa Monica.  We had been eating cans of stuff for every meal and wanted something freshly made.  The initial plan was to just grab supplies in Santa Barbara and head up highway 1, but something about the town drew us in.  It was quaint.  The whole of downtown was so walkable with tress budding with purple flowers and the whole community out and about.  Not only that, but we were stopped by multiple people on the way to the sandwich shop who admired Boss and listened to our tales about travelling the country. 

The sandwich shop itself is nestled in between a series of shops from local banks to antique stores.  Walking in, we were greeted with a positive energy, everyone seemed ready to help and provide a great dining experience.  Looking over the menu, it was hard to decide what I wanted, but I decided on the “When in Rome” sandwich.  I wanted something different from the usual ham or turkey sandwich.  I grabbed a Snapple Pink Lemonade and a bag of vegetable Sun Chips and waited for my meal.

A few minutes later the sandwich came out.  It looked delicious.  The bread looked lightly toasted and it was dripping in pesto sauce.  The first bite confirmed my thoughts about the bread.  It was perfectly toasted with a crispy crust, but still maintained a soft, fluffy interior.  However, after the first bite, the oil from the pesto began to drip out the back of the sandwich onto the plate.  It’s unfortunate that most pestos cannot create an adequate emulsion and the oil separates out creating a mess.

The lemon mayo was more creamy than bitter, the lemon flavor was not very pronounced.  The chicken was warm and tender, expertly cooked.  There was more arugula that I would have wanted, but the bitterness of the arugula cut the creaminess of the mayo and oil.

After finishing the sandwich, I looked down in sadness at the pool of oil sitting on the plate.  Pity, I thought.  If only they could have figured out how to properly make a pesto, it would have been a much better experience.

The place was great, the people there, even better. I wish I could have tried a different sandwich though.  I guess that is what happens when you go off the beaten path, you get unexpected results.  I would definitely go back and give them a second chance.

IMG_0630[1].JPG

McGIll’s at Crested Butte

228 Elk Ave.

Crested Butte, CO 81224

https://www.facebook.com/pages/McGills-At-Crested-Butte/119847854694618

Getting something to eat for lunch in Crested Butte’s off season is like trying to catch a leprechaun.  Supposedly they exist, but no matter where you look, they elude you.  I had stopped at over a half-dozen places, some even with “open” signs hanging in the windows, but all I found were locked doors and darkened kitchens.  This town is weird.  It is a skiing and hiking haven for tourists across the globe, but there is a period of time between the two seasons when the town is just filled with townies and the ultra rich.  I reached Crested Butte right in the middle of this lethargic period and was practically the only person in any establishment I went into.

After perusing the 12ish-block town, I finally found a place that was open.  McGill’s at Crested Butte is welcoming place on the main strip that has all the features of your stereotypical diner, but with an overwhelming amount of rustic ambiance.

Once the sandwich came out, I was immediately drawn to the side dish. It was red beans and saffron rice.  The flavors were complex, both spicy from the beans and the flavors of the rice balanced perfectly. It reminded me of the Cuban earthy cuisine.

I took a bite into the sandwich and the flavors of the sandwich matched the beans.  The warm, creamy avocado hit first, but then was followed by the spicy chipotle mayo that left a crispy burn in the back of my throat.  The bacon was crisp, but not overly crunchy, just the way I like it.  There may have been too much spinach on the sandwich, but I enjoy my greens and they didn’t overpower the bouquet of flavors from the rest of the toppings.

I ate the sandwich slowly, looking over the mountains as I relaxed.  This is a good place to have a bite to eat.  But I gotta keep movin. It may be their off season, but I am in full force.

Pictured Sandwich:

Bacon

Spinach

Tomato

Avocado

Spinach

Chipotle Mayo

Toasted Sourdough Bread

 

 

Cheeba Hut Sandwich.JPG

Cheeba Hut

1531 Champa St.

Denver, CO 80202

www.cheebahut.com

5-0 (All the Pig, Baby!)

Boss and I rolled into Denver on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.  The sky was filled with light-grey clouds as we approached downtown. At first, I thought that the clouds were from the current meteorological events, but to my surprise, it was actually clouds of marijuana smoke billowing up from EVERYONE smoking legalized weed.  It’s a different world when everything is clouded by the influence of this plant.  The homeless are non-aggressive. Your average non-employed person is laying around lackadaisically while their mind drifts off into imagination.  Even the street thugs, tattooed from fingers to neck, are overly polite and genuinely uninterested in robbery or assault.  It’s like a hazy paradise where no one can quite remember all the details.

On suggestion from a former local, we cruised over to Cheeba Hut for the first sandwich in town.  This place was not only exactly what it sounded like, it also perpetuated the general feeling of Denver itself—a stoner’s paradise.  Just a glance at the menu revealed helpful tips for the undecided stoner.  Aside from sandwiches, they had helpful sections like “Secret Stash,” “Munchies” and of course the ever-desirable “Cotton Mouth Cures.”  Boxes of kid’s cereal and marshmallows adorned the wall waiting to become rice-crispy treats.  I wasn’t stoned, so I decided to skip the accoutrements and go straight for the good stuff.

Most of the sandwiches had weed-themed names like “Acapulco Gold” (BBQ chicken) or “Sticky Icky” (PB&J).  However, staying true to all my years of being mistaken as a cop in any sort of shady exchange, I chose the 5-0 (All the Pig, Baby!).  I was hungry and the 5-0 was packed full of every type of pork product they have in the house.  I chose to get the “blunt” sized sandwich (12-inch) and opted for the toasted garlic herb bread to carry my piles of pork.  I grabbed an IBC root beer and some chips and waited at a nearby table.

The sandwich came out and it looked delicious, but chaotically assembled.  It was almost open-faced, but I quickly closed it up and started to chow down.  The first thing I noticed was that the garlic bread was overly toasted, similar to most the clientele in the establishment.  However, the varieties of pork combined with the in-your-face flavors of the house dressing and dusting of parmesan/oregano packed quite the punch. The sandwich was solid and the flavors were all there, but the overly-crisp bread bugged me, so I only ate half and left.

Fast forward about 4 hours later and I was sitting outside of my friend’s house waiting for him to get home.  He was at a baseball game and would be back shortly.  My stomach started growling, so I opened the other half of the sandwich to finish it off.  That was when I came to understand the ingeniousness of stoner-sandwich engineering.  Have you ever made a sandwich before work only to have it sit in a fridge for half the day before eating it?  When I have done that, the bread gets soggy after absorbing all the juices from the toppings.  However, if you overly toast the bread, the sogginess doesn’t occur and you are left with both the marinated flavors of the sandwich and a crisp texture of the bread.  It finally all made sense to me, in a stonery way.  From there it was total annihilation of the sandwich as well as a little lesson in respecting the wisdom of others, even if their lifestyle is slightly different than mine.

Pictured Sandwich

Smoked Ham

Genoa Salami

Prosciutto

Pepperoni

Bacon

Giardiniera peppers

Cheddar

Lettuce

Tomato

Onion

Pickle

House dressing

Parmesan/oregano herb mix

Toasted garlic herb bread

Vicki’s Eatery

315 N. Texas St.

Silver City, NM

https://www.vickiseatery.com/

The sun came up a little too early in Silver City that morning.  I was hungover from “working” too late at the Little Toad Creek Brewery and Distillery the night before and wasn’t ready to get out of bed for the hotel’s continental breakfast.  I put a random TV series on repeat and floated back into pseudo-unconsciousness as the dreamy trail of my night in Silver City replayed in my mind.

Boss and I had been up in the mountains all week and had opted to spend our last night in the remodeled Murray hotel in downtown Silver City, NM.  After finagling our way in (I had to play the ‘service dog’ card to get Boss past security), I left Boss in the hotel room and went over to the local brewery to start working.  I had a week’s worth of photos and videos to edit and wanted a cold beer (or three) while I worked.

Silver City, NM is like a Colorado ski town with a meth problem, so basically like a western-Colorado ski town.  Nestled between the Gila National Monument and the New Mexican desert, it has a laid-back vibe and a focus on the arts and the outdoors.  There is a main street that boasts a variety of antique shops, restaurants, outdoor stores and even a movie theater.  The community is usually out walking around and it was an absolute joy to walk down the strip, browsing through the different shops and talking with the locals.  That’s where I first heard about Vicki’s Eatery, but we’ll get to that in a little while.

After a few beers at the brewery, instead of seeking out a place to eat, I wandered around town talking to anyone who looked interesting.  Believe me, I bit off more than I could chew in doing this.  I heard so many remarkable stories from the locals.  Tales of love and adventure, betrayal and murder were just the beginning as I walked through town.  It wasn’t until about 10 pm, when I was standing in a 1.5 ft x 6 ft corner of a stranger’s house, a stack of coconut water cases as high as the ceiling to my left and two unused refrigerators pinning me from behind while I listened to him warn about the dangers of RF signals, that I decided it might be time to go home.

And so home I went, to listen to the sounds of motorcycles buzzing through town and begin to nurse the expected hangover for the next morning.

I awoke from my daydream and it was checkout time at the hotel.  I painfully gathered my belonging and dragged myself and Boss out to the car.  Vicki’s Eatery, I remembered, was where I would have lunch.

Once I arrived, I was pleasantly surprised by the open patio and friendly wait-staff.  They graciously let me perch on the patio with Boss.  The special was a turkey pastrami Reuben, so I ordered that with a side of coleslaw and a gallon of iced tea.

Shortly after my fourth glass of iced tea, the sandwich arrived.  It was a typical Reuben, with turkey pastrami instead of corned beef, melted swiss cheese and delectable sauerkraut.  The cheese was hot and stretched between the two halves as I opened the sandwich.  It was good, but not great.  There was something missing.

I took a bite of the coleslaw and was immediately blown away.  I had expected a run-of-the-mill coleslaw dripping with mayonnaise and without flavor, but this one shocked me.  The freshly-made cabbage and onions were cut a bit thicker than I was used to and there was a strong hint of horseradish that pulled it all together.

Immediately I knew what was missing in the sandwich.  This coleslaw wasn’t a side dish, it was a topping.  I tore open the Reuben and dumped the remaining coleslaw on the sandwich.  It was perfection.  The crispiness of the slaw helped balance out the softness of the pastrami and kraut.  But the horseradish stole the show.  It brought out a tangy spice that tickled the nostrils and completed the balance of the sandwich.  I quickly finished it, giving the last bite to Boss.

A few more glasses of tea and we were back on the road.

 

Pictured Sandwich

Turkey Pastrami

Melted swiss

Sauerkraut

Spicy brown mustard

Toasted rye bread

Craft and Social

305 E. Franklin Ave.

El Paso, Tx 79901

http://www.craftandsocial.com

We rolled into El Paso like the filthy dust storms that had been following us through the Guadelupe mountains for the past week.  I was gross.  Boss was gross.  We were both covered in dirt and had been brutalized by the punishing wind that ripped through the mountains the entire time we stayed there.  I hadn’t showered in 6 days and even the bugs were beginning to think twice before circling.  But we were in luck, I have family in El Paso and a soft bed and a warm shower were in the near future.

Fast forward to the next day.  Clean, calm and collected, I was freakin hungry.  We drove down I-10 toward downtown El Paso.  “Hula Hoop” by Daddy Yankee blasted through the speakers as we exited off the highway and entered into downtown.  I had done some research and found a couple of places that I thought might bring some deliciousness to the table.

After maneuvering through the construction in downtown (apparently that is a constant in any major downtown area), I parked and began looking around.  Downtown El Paso showed signs of major redevelopment.  Ancient buildings were being revitalized into commercial shops and residential lofts.  New parks dotted the downtown area with a variety of pedestrians walking about.  It was quite a vibrant area for a Saturday afternoon.

I wandered past a bar called “Speak Easy” and, reminiscing on all of the other Speak Easy’s I have been to across the country, I had to check it out.  A beer and a shot later and I had all the information I needed from the bartender about where the best sandwich shop in town was located.  It was literally next door.

Inside Craft and Social, I noticed a similar theme that I have seen in new millennial-driven businesses.  It was funky-cool with an inviting atmosphere, but you could tell these guys weren’t messing around.  I walked up to the bar and started to talk to the bartender, Omar.  After the usual pleasantries, we got down to business.

I quizzed Omar on their sandwiches, where they sourced their breads and meats from and what were the heavy hitters with their clientele.  He answered sharply and recommended their crowd favorite—The Cheeser. 

Now me personally, I like a little meat in my sandwiches or else I just consider them appetizers or desserts. After a week in the mountains, I wasn’t interested in a dessert.  So we decided to toss a bit of prosciutto onto that bad boy and see what happened.

I sat down in an old armchair that exhibited years of wear, but was still comfortable.  I ordered a local IPA and waited for the sandwich to manifest.  It only took a few minutes and I was presented with the modified Cheeser.

The sandwich was like a grilled cheese sandwich on crack.  The toasted sourdough bread was both crispy and rich in a buttery crust.  It had three main cheeses: cheddar, Jarlsberg and Brie which melted together in a creamy tangy flavor.  The prosciutto added some depth to the sandwich, but it wasn’t the star.  Craft and Social make sure they source their ingredients from local farms and businesses and it was very apparent when I tasted the Mango-Habanero jam from Kunn farms in Las Cruces, NM, only a few miles across the Texas-New Mexico border.  That was what tied everything together and blew me away.  It was melty and delicious, but smacked you in the face with the bitterness of the apples combined with the sweet/spicy of the mango habanero jam.  The balance between all of these flavors was expertly delivered.

I destroyed it.

In fact, I devoured it so fast that I didn’t even get a good picture of the sandwich.  I had to steal one from their website for this review.

The next time you are in El Paso, check out Craft and Social in downtown.  You won’t be disappointed.

Pictured Sandwich:

Prosciutto

Cheddar

Jarlsberg

Brie

Arugula

Mango-Habanero Jam

Sliced green apples

Toasted sourdough bread

Food Shark - Marfa, Tx

Food Shark - Marfa, Tx

https://www.facebook.com/foodsharkmarfa/

Smoked Turkey and Swiss - Marfa

We woke up that morning in our pink caboose of a trailer.  It was quaint, but as with all quaint things, a little too small for my 6’2” frame.  The sun was rising and espresso was in order to start the day.  After an espresso and a morning of reading, the hunt began.  I was so disillusioned by my sandwich from the previous day, I was driven to find another.  This town of self-proclaimed artists had to have something better than a science-museum-cafeteria quality of sandwich.

Like all hunts, it started out slow.  When stalking prey, like the great lions of the Serengeti, patience is key.  We started out at the local laundromat.  Surely word of mouth is the best way to find the appropriate hunting ground where the unsuspecting sandwich ingredients lay comfortably in cool refrigerators and jars on tidy shelves.

The laundromat was a bust.  Only fancy hotel restaurants were noted from the various artisans that adorned the neighboring coffee shop.  But Boss and I are eternally positive when it comes to the hunt, so we pressed onward.

Casually driving the back streets of Marfa, we steeled our eyes for any sign of a unique restaurant.  House after house passed by with no sign.  We took to the main drag that runs east-west just south of downtown Marfa: San Antonio street.

A twinge shot up Boss’ spine and he jumped out of his seat and stuck his head out the passenger’s window.  He had the scent.  The game was afoot.

We continued slowly down San Antonio street, looking for prey.  Both of our heads craned out of our respective windows.  The excitement grew as we began to pass art exhibits, rock shops and high-end eateries that didn’t come close to being desirable.  We wanted the trophy sandwich; the sandwich that would elude those less determined than Boss and I.

Suddenly, we saw it.  We passed a non-assuming food truck on a half-empty lot with patio furniture set intertwined with rusted-out classic cars.  About 2 dozen people were sitting outside, calmly drinking in the warmth of the sunny day.  Sitting at a table in the back were the same artists from the laundromat laughing jovially, most likely at how they duped a dumb tourist earlier.

This had to be the place.

We passed it by and drove down the road a little bit.  After a few blocks, we turned down a street and then turned again so we could attack from behind and downwind.  They would never suspect us, I thought.

After parking, we walked up and took a seat at a round table in the back of the patio.  I tipped my hat at the locals who drew together and began whispering.  They never suspected it.

Up at the food truck, I looked over the menu taped to the side of the truck.  It was mainly vegetarian Mediterranean food.  My heart sunk as I got to the bottom of the menu, maybe we weren’t going to be successful after all.  Then, there it was, at the very bottom of the menu, scratched out from the whipping west-Texan wind was our unicorn: A smoked turkey and swiss sandwich on toasted whole grain bread.

I ordered and was informed that due to the number of orders, it would be about a 30-minute wait.  No problem, I needed to finish my book anyway.  So I ordered a beer and sat down to wait.

30 minutes passed quickly as I hadn’t read more than a few pages when I heard “RYAN” yelled out from the truck.  I walked up and retrieved my trophy, salivating at its decadence.  The hunt was over, and now it was time to reap the spoils of our victory.

The sandwich was excellent.  The bread was cut and toasted perfectly.  The condiments added flavor, but didn’t overpower.  The turkey and cheese were cut so much thicker than I am used to – and that is what made it great.  Each bite had distinguishable variations in flavor, the first stronger in the sharp flavor of swiss, while the next boasted the smoky flavor of turkey.  Accompanied by a greek salad instead of chips completed the perfection of the meal.  Once finished, I sat back and let the warm Texan sun wash over me.  The hunt complete.  The hunters satisfied.  We had won.

Pictured Sandwich:

Smoked turkey

Swiss cheese

Romaine lettuce

Sliced tomatoes

Sliced onions

Dijon + Mayo

Toasted whole grain bread

Squeeze Marfa - Marfa, Tx

Squeeze Marfa - Marfa, Tx

http://www.squeezemarfa.com

Roast Beef Panini in Marfa

It was mid afternoon when Boss and I pulled into Marfa, Tx.  The sun had blanketed the desert in an oppressive heat that cooked the asphalt on the streets to frying pan levels.  Tumbleweeds blew through town as we pulled up to Squeeze, a swiss-run juice and coffee shop right across the street from the Marfa city courthouse.  We just wanted a bite to eat and hopefully to steal some electricity to charge phones and tablets as well as ourselves.

The shop was quaint, but forcibly quaint.  All the knick-knacks were perfectly in order from the copper French press to the wall of products adorned with local business logos.  The patio had small tables with a mix-match of chairs and benches surrounding them.  It insisted upon its awkwardly uniqueness as if to tell the world, “come eat here and you can embrace your uniqueness.”

The sandwich and local cold brew coffee cost me a whopping $14.  It was an unimpressive roast beef and swiss panini with lettuce and tomato delivered on an unevenly toasted bread.  Served with chips and an orange slice.  It wasn’t bad.  But it sure wasn’t something that I would ever want to spend too much time describing.

The local cold brew was good.

Pictured Sandwich:

Roast Beef

Swiss Cheese

Tomato

Spinach

Mustard + Mayo

Flatbread

Stone Village Market - Ft. Davis, Tx

Stone Village Market - Ft. Davis, Tx

Beef Pastrami in Ft. Davis

On a hot April day, I wondered into the Stone Village Market in Ft. Davis, Tx.  I needed a few supplies and it was one of the few shops in town that had groceries and a deli.  In fact, it may be the only one.  It faces right onto the main drag in Ft. Davis and big windows lets a passerby peek inside, while a large covered patio with tables and chairs allows the casual visitor to relax for a bit and enjoy a bite to eat and some fresh tea. The shop boasts a large variety of local Texas products from coffee to jam and all sorts in between with an enthusiastic staff that are more than happy to spin some tales as well as promote their quality products.  The Stone Village Market is well known to celebrities, in fact it is a main stopping place for Laura Bush and her family for their famous chicken salad.  I tried it and it was exquisite.

http://www.stonevillagetouristcamp.com/market.html

Pictured sandwich:

Beef Pastrami

Pepper Jack Cheese

Spicy Mustard

Mayonnaise

Lettuce

Tomato

Avocado

Green Olives

On freshly made Ciabatta bread.