Sandwich
noun, verb and sublime bites
Hello from NL 35. This is Bake Sense, the somewhat ordered record of ramblings that concern the world of baking, from championing flavour and wholesome ingredients to questioning where those ingredients come from and how we can make the most of them. Along the way, you’ll find recipes and insights from life in and out of the professional bakery and plenty of fruitful chat.
It struck me that as a baker, most of my sustenance before, during and after a shift is received in the form of bread* wrapped around some other foodstuff; its appearance is sandwich-like, but you would never readily prepare it for anyone else and call it such.
More sandwich verb than sandwich noun; something put in the space between two other things. Thing one being the single** piece of bread (I refrain from using the word ‘slice' because this suggests it was intentionally cut to be such rather than savagely torn); the other thing is the next task on your prep list or the moment before you surrender and consign yourself to being horizontal until your next shift begins.
*Bread is interchangeable with any other edible vessel in which a space can be carved out to hold a complimentary foodstuff rich in salt, fat, acid or crunch, with an equally complimentary macro profile, a mix of fat, carb and protein. We’re at our worst, but gourmet us still craves to taste the best.
**Many dictionary definitions of the word sandwich will specify it consists of two or more pieces of bread.
More often than not, these ‘sandwiches’ require no utensils, plates or lowering of one’s ass onto anything resembling a comfortable seat. They are off-the-cuff, grab-and-go in the most literal sense. The first step in sandwich (noun) assembly is usually a spread of some sort…butter, peanut butter, jam or mayo (no thank you), a luxury when we sandwich (verb). All etiquette designed by Earls ceases; this is a code-red refuel situation.
A Banana hastily peeled and encased in a bread sling, hot dog style, preferably with a few big crunchy nuts for texture, or the still warm end of a gnarly baguette filled with chunks of chocolate are examples of some of the most elite versions. Apple slices sandwiched with chunks of cheese, lettuce wrapped around cold lunchbox leftovers and even the obscure combination of cracker, gherkin and candied jalapeño sammie…these ‘sandwiches’ border on the ridiculous. And the liquid accompaniment to wash it down? That’s right…a cold cup of coffee or tea.
This speaks more broadly of the issues around working in food service and actually feeding yourself. I am glorifying neither but merely speaking of my experience in and of it, which is rooted in having only ever worked for myself.
Of late, the team at the bakery has become smaller and on reflection, I can’t help but feel it’s a good thing. Having said that, a small team does make it pretty much impossible to take time out on shift to all sit and eat a ‘meal’ together.
This theme was highlighted in the latest Countertalk newsletter, focussed on ‘staff food’ and ‘family meal’, the perceived constraints, the lack of and the examples of good practice. It offers insightful reading, and you can check it out here.
Of course, I know the right thing to do is to carve out time to properly refuel and nourish ourselves enough to continue. Still, when the pace is good, the efficiency is on, and you’re on the home straight, you keep going, and no amount of encouraging your colleagues to take a break seems to turn the tide on their adrenaline.
Despite this, we can take a moment mid-morning to make a round of toast, add salted butter and honey, enjoy fresh bread with the scrapings from the jam pan or an ugly bun with the first few hot sips of coffee or tea. At the end, those still standing can quickly pull something together for one another: ripe tomatoes tossed with some salt, vinegar and olive oil, with bread to mop up the juice. And for dessert, a sublime Medjool date, pit pulled out and replaced with dark, dark chocolate, walnut halves and coarsely crystalline Maldon. This ill-organised and dysfunctional ‘family meal’ is symptomatic of a small place trying to do its best against the many obstacles in its way and a tiny but mighty band of bakers falling into the trap of loving what they do a little too much sometimes.
A SUB-lime Date
Ingredients
(per person)
1 fat Medjool date
1 chunk of dark chocolate
2 walnut halves
pinch Maldon sea salt
Prise open the date, extract the pit and insert the walnut halves alternately with the chocolate chunk. Close up the stuffed date as best you can and sprinkle with flakes of Maldon. Enjoy in one to two bites.
This!! I’m constantly talking with coworkers about how we should all be better about taking breaks, and how difficult it seems to be to do that when you’re on dough’s schedule. A recent “sandwich” was a juicy slice of tomato dragged through croissant flakes on both sides.
It’s such a challenge, dough is demanding and there is always something to attend to in a busy bakery.