22 thoughts on “Best sammich a woman can make for her man…”
I want about an inch high stack of bacon on mine. And forget that “Wunda bwed” crap. I want a gnarly sourdough.
That sounds good! A little horseradish sauce too…
No matter how poor you are that sandwich should also have salt and pepper. And probably a pickle or two. And mustard.
But never ketchup. Don’t be a South Chicago momma and think that a ketchup sandwich is ‘dinner’.
Lettuce and mayo, with lettuce if available, on regular white bread. Love that. I’ll have that for breakfast along with some cheese on the side.
Has to be a good tasting tomato. I’ve found that the Roma variety make good sandwiches.
Oh Hell Yeah! đ
Mater’ Sandwiches were a staple in my house growing up as were Cold Lima Bean Sandwiches!
Those were two of my my Late Mother’s Faves!
Tomato and mustard. When things got spicy we’d add some Worcestershire sauce. If we had it.
Sometimes, I’d rather have one as a steak. I’ve eaten them all my life. The key is homegrown tomatoes.
Here in Alabama people get into deep debates over which type of mayonnaise should be used (Kraft, Bama, or Hellman’s). I’m a Kraft man myself.
Cain’s Olive Oil Mayo. It’s a regional brand in the NE.
My mother, born in 1920, told us about taking onion sandwiches to school for lunch during the Depression. Dad, also born in 1920, hated any kind of orange squash. He never told us why until late in his life. He said that it was because thin squash soup was all they had to eat for dinner at times, unless he and/or my uncles could come home with a couple rabbits or squirrels or catch enough fish to feed seven.
While putting up hay my aunt brought sandwiches and coffee out to the hay field for lunch [on the farm we have breakfast, dinner at noon, lunch at 4 PM and supper whenever we get in the house]. I grabbed a sandwich made of homemade bread, home churned butter [from their own milk cows] and radishes. I still love those sandwiches but finding homemade bread and home churned butter is not possible.
we also had ‘mater sammiches growing up. with miracle whip. good stuff . . . . . as kids on the rare occasion we had pizza mom & dad would get the toppings & we we get just plain cheeze so thats my go to even after all these years. in my “poor” days it was beans. i told myself i’d never eat them again so after many decades you know what comfort food i eat . . . . . . except now i can afford to put some fatback in it!
My father was a young man in Germany after WWII. Germany was bombed to shit in the war so everyone was poor. So poor that the stale heels of bread were saved up all week to make bread soup. Basically a broth with whatever they could scrounge up, and the bread created the illusion that it was more than hot water. Dad wouldn’t eat bread that even hinted at being stale…
In my most poor days I’d save money to buy a Chef Boy RDe (?) pizza kit and put all the leftovers in the fridge on it so as not to waste a bite. Pork n beans, lettuce, tomato, onion, slice of ham, peas. Pretty good actually, at least that was my convincing. Had a poor neighbor that came over one evening before his night shift, saw me eating my ‘leftover pizza’ and it became a ritual for him to come over with his leftovers and add to the pizza party. Good times.
My Dad was much the same. Still loved his depression era meals while I was growing up.
Only thing missing here is bacon and lettuce.
I drove a tomato truck from the fields to the packing shed on the Carolina sea islands & I had a tomato sandwich every day & chased it with a watermelon slice. The sea islands grew the best maters & melons. Now all the land is developed.
We grow Celebrities. I’ve been known to walk out in the garden in the middle of the day and pluck one off the vine. Shine it up on my shirt and then chomp down on it right there. Lean way over when eating it to keep the massive drippings off my shirt. Then grab the hose for a little clean up. I do big bell peppers the same way, or onion. Don’t do a carrot though. That durty bitch will snap a molar off.
Since I was a boy, my favorite has always been tomato and onion with mayo on white. I put away a ton of them and I’m 76.
My Grandparents would make us kids Butter and sugar sandwiches. They were actually pretty good.
There was a time when my last week of every month was the same. Gallon of milk, pound of bacon, two pounds of pinto beans, bread, a box of cereal, bananas if I had a bit of extra money. Fry the bacon, reserve the grease, make the pintos a pound at a time. Breakfast was a bowl of cereal and an egg sandwich with bacon (until it ran out), butter, or a slice of cheese if I had it. Lunch was peanut butter sandwich, sometimes with bananas. Dinner was pinto beans spooned over bread to make a porridge. It kept me going. Since we retired and inflation is going crazy, my wife is amazed at how cheaply I can eat and how frugal I have become.
(For humorous use only)
Tomato Sandwich Etiquette
The tomato is among God’s most gifted creations: It manages to be both fruit and vegetable; it can be made into entrees, sauces, toppings or pies; it can be eaten raw or cooked and it can be pronounced “tah-may-toe” or “tuh-mah-toe.” It’s a food group, all by itself.
It does show particular talent as the centerpiece of a tomato sandwich, better known around here by the scientific name “mater sammich.”
Everyone knows how to make a tomato sandwich, right? There’s not much to screw up, at least at first glance. In reality, there are some, somewhat hotly debated rules to making a tomato sandwich. Here’s a handy list:
Donât use tomatoes with fancy-pants shapes like âcherryâ or âpearâ in a tomato sandwich. Youâre only wasting mayo.
Decide, to peel or not to peel. WWGD? (What Would Granny Do?) Although many purists frown on peeling, my Granny Smith handed them to me peeled and I will always have a special place in my heart for a skinât mater.
Always use white bread. Donât embarrass yourself by trying to make a tomato sammich with an uppity bread. This is where those high-end, âto-doâ, and Yankee restaurants always mess up.
Mayo matters. Some swear by Duke’s. Others might choose Blue Plate, Hellman’s or Kraft. I wouldn’t judge any of those choices. Personally … and I hate to offend anyone here and I know all the purists will lose their gourds … I prefer Miracle Whip. The old school tomato sammich rules say that Miracle Whip is not mayo; it is a sandwich spread and, in most Southerners opinion, doesn’t have the pedigree required to mingle with freshly sliced tomatoes.
FYI: The U.S. Food and Drug Administration requires that anything labeled “mayonnaise” contain a minimum of 65 percent vegetable oil by weight. Miracle Whip contains less than 65% which I prefer for most applications. Prove me wrong.
To toast or not to toast the bread. True Southerners will say that toasting is for BLTâs and some of those other sammiches that are too big for their britches. It’s what most of my Aunts would call “showy when referring to a mater sammich.â
Donât do a tomato sammich without salt and pepper. Just donât.
I read a blog post not too long ago by a woman who says her ex-boyfriend taught her to blot her tomato slices on a paper towel before putting them on the bread. That really creamed my corn. The beauty of a tomato sandwich lies in its inherent messiness. I’ll repeat that so you can write it down: The beauty of a tomato sandwich lies in its inherent messiness. (Thatâs probably why he is the ex-boyfriend.)
As a side note, there are those with âartisanalâ, (snicker) culinary tastes who will adulterate a pure tomato sandwich with lettuce, this habit should be discouraged wherever noticed. This is akin to putting avocado on anything. If you do it, you could be labelled forever as a molester of tomatoes.
Nope. Canât do it. Ate way too many tomato, mayo, white bread sandwiches growing up. Now give me a BLT on toasted pumpernickel or sourdough and Iâm your huckleberry.
I want about an inch high stack of bacon on mine. And forget that “Wunda bwed” crap. I want a gnarly sourdough.
That sounds good! A little horseradish sauce too…
No matter how poor you are that sandwich should also have salt and pepper. And probably a pickle or two. And mustard.
But never ketchup. Don’t be a South Chicago momma and think that a ketchup sandwich is ‘dinner’.
Lettuce and mayo, with lettuce if available, on regular white bread. Love that. I’ll have that for breakfast along with some cheese on the side.
Has to be a good tasting tomato. I’ve found that the Roma variety make good sandwiches.
Oh Hell Yeah! đ
Mater’ Sandwiches were a staple in my house growing up as were Cold Lima Bean Sandwiches!
Those were two of my my Late Mother’s Faves!
Tomato and mustard. When things got spicy we’d add some Worcestershire sauce. If we had it.
Sometimes, I’d rather have one as a steak. I’ve eaten them all my life. The key is homegrown tomatoes.
Here in Alabama people get into deep debates over which type of mayonnaise should be used (Kraft, Bama, or Hellman’s). I’m a Kraft man myself.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6TWwyhCVBDg
Dukes mayo Jeffery, Dukes…
Cain’s Olive Oil Mayo. It’s a regional brand in the NE.
My mother, born in 1920, told us about taking onion sandwiches to school for lunch during the Depression. Dad, also born in 1920, hated any kind of orange squash. He never told us why until late in his life. He said that it was because thin squash soup was all they had to eat for dinner at times, unless he and/or my uncles could come home with a couple rabbits or squirrels or catch enough fish to feed seven.
While putting up hay my aunt brought sandwiches and coffee out to the hay field for lunch [on the farm we have breakfast, dinner at noon, lunch at 4 PM and supper whenever we get in the house]. I grabbed a sandwich made of homemade bread, home churned butter [from their own milk cows] and radishes. I still love those sandwiches but finding homemade bread and home churned butter is not possible.
we also had ‘mater sammiches growing up. with miracle whip. good stuff . . . . . as kids on the rare occasion we had pizza mom & dad would get the toppings & we we get just plain cheeze so thats my go to even after all these years. in my “poor” days it was beans. i told myself i’d never eat them again so after many decades you know what comfort food i eat . . . . . . except now i can afford to put some fatback in it!
My father was a young man in Germany after WWII. Germany was bombed to shit in the war so everyone was poor. So poor that the stale heels of bread were saved up all week to make bread soup. Basically a broth with whatever they could scrounge up, and the bread created the illusion that it was more than hot water. Dad wouldn’t eat bread that even hinted at being stale…
In my most poor days I’d save money to buy a Chef Boy RDe (?) pizza kit and put all the leftovers in the fridge on it so as not to waste a bite. Pork n beans, lettuce, tomato, onion, slice of ham, peas. Pretty good actually, at least that was my convincing. Had a poor neighbor that came over one evening before his night shift, saw me eating my ‘leftover pizza’ and it became a ritual for him to come over with his leftovers and add to the pizza party. Good times.
My Dad was much the same. Still loved his depression era meals while I was growing up.
Only thing missing here is bacon and lettuce.
I drove a tomato truck from the fields to the packing shed on the Carolina sea islands & I had a tomato sandwich every day & chased it with a watermelon slice. The sea islands grew the best maters & melons. Now all the land is developed.
We grow Celebrities. I’ve been known to walk out in the garden in the middle of the day and pluck one off the vine. Shine it up on my shirt and then chomp down on it right there. Lean way over when eating it to keep the massive drippings off my shirt. Then grab the hose for a little clean up. I do big bell peppers the same way, or onion. Don’t do a carrot though. That durty bitch will snap a molar off.
Since I was a boy, my favorite has always been tomato and onion with mayo on white. I put away a ton of them and I’m 76.
My Grandparents would make us kids Butter and sugar sandwiches. They were actually pretty good.
There was a time when my last week of every month was the same. Gallon of milk, pound of bacon, two pounds of pinto beans, bread, a box of cereal, bananas if I had a bit of extra money. Fry the bacon, reserve the grease, make the pintos a pound at a time. Breakfast was a bowl of cereal and an egg sandwich with bacon (until it ran out), butter, or a slice of cheese if I had it. Lunch was peanut butter sandwich, sometimes with bananas. Dinner was pinto beans spooned over bread to make a porridge. It kept me going. Since we retired and inflation is going crazy, my wife is amazed at how cheaply I can eat and how frugal I have become.
(For humorous use only)
Tomato Sandwich Etiquette
The tomato is among God’s most gifted creations: It manages to be both fruit and vegetable; it can be made into entrees, sauces, toppings or pies; it can be eaten raw or cooked and it can be pronounced “tah-may-toe” or “tuh-mah-toe.” It’s a food group, all by itself.
It does show particular talent as the centerpiece of a tomato sandwich, better known around here by the scientific name “mater sammich.”
Everyone knows how to make a tomato sandwich, right? There’s not much to screw up, at least at first glance. In reality, there are some, somewhat hotly debated rules to making a tomato sandwich. Here’s a handy list:
Donât use tomatoes with fancy-pants shapes like âcherryâ or âpearâ in a tomato sandwich. Youâre only wasting mayo.
Decide, to peel or not to peel. WWGD? (What Would Granny Do?) Although many purists frown on peeling, my Granny Smith handed them to me peeled and I will always have a special place in my heart for a skinât mater.
Always use white bread. Donât embarrass yourself by trying to make a tomato sammich with an uppity bread. This is where those high-end, âto-doâ, and Yankee restaurants always mess up.
Mayo matters. Some swear by Duke’s. Others might choose Blue Plate, Hellman’s or Kraft. I wouldn’t judge any of those choices. Personally … and I hate to offend anyone here and I know all the purists will lose their gourds … I prefer Miracle Whip. The old school tomato sammich rules say that Miracle Whip is not mayo; it is a sandwich spread and, in most Southerners opinion, doesn’t have the pedigree required to mingle with freshly sliced tomatoes.
FYI: The U.S. Food and Drug Administration requires that anything labeled “mayonnaise” contain a minimum of 65 percent vegetable oil by weight. Miracle Whip contains less than 65% which I prefer for most applications. Prove me wrong.
To toast or not to toast the bread. True Southerners will say that toasting is for BLTâs and some of those other sammiches that are too big for their britches. It’s what most of my Aunts would call “showy when referring to a mater sammich.â
Donât do a tomato sammich without salt and pepper. Just donât.
I read a blog post not too long ago by a woman who says her ex-boyfriend taught her to blot her tomato slices on a paper towel before putting them on the bread. That really creamed my corn. The beauty of a tomato sandwich lies in its inherent messiness. I’ll repeat that so you can write it down: The beauty of a tomato sandwich lies in its inherent messiness. (Thatâs probably why he is the ex-boyfriend.)
As a side note, there are those with âartisanalâ, (snicker) culinary tastes who will adulterate a pure tomato sandwich with lettuce, this habit should be discouraged wherever noticed. This is akin to putting avocado on anything. If you do it, you could be labelled forever as a molester of tomatoes.
Nope. Canât do it. Ate way too many tomato, mayo, white bread sandwiches growing up. Now give me a BLT on toasted pumpernickel or sourdough and Iâm your huckleberry.