The Best Sandwich Ever

The Best Sandwich Ever

 "Your Main 5 most loved sandwiches, all together, please. Go." This is an amusement I play in the auto with my youngsters, as though we were characters in a Scratch Hornby novel. It's a redirection to make long travel more endurable. We play it constantly. The youngsters race to judgment, and as is valid for a large portion of us, their answers change alongside their tastes. Be that as it may, generally: flame broiled cheddar on white, with tomato soup; the B.L.T. from a store in Maine close to their uncle's home, on thick nation bread; ham and Brie with mustard on baguette; a meatball sub from a nearby shop; and — does a cheeseburger number? (It doesn't.)

Father's turn. I number backward request: that B.L.T., yes, maybe with avocado; turkey with Swiss, coleslaw and Russian dressing on a kaiser move; nutty spread and gochujang (the Korean hot-pepper glue) on sesame toast; a Reuben, on rye obviously, with pastrami, Swiss, sauerkraut, a greater amount of that Russian. I know a person who makes those as though he were building violins for Pinchas Zukerman. I delay before the No. 1 opening, as though reflecting; I appreciate giving this answer. My most loved sandwich is singed eggplant, mozzarella and dish meat on an Italian saint, with hot peppers and a slice of mayonnaise.

You can find that sandwich at Defonte's Sandwich Shop, on Columbia Road in Brooklyn, close to the way out to the Hugh Carey Burrow that leads from Red Snare to the Battery in Manhattan. It is a lovely torpedo of sustenance — crunchy, smooth, sweet and hot at the same time. However, be watchful. It is gigantic and ludicrously rich. On the off chance that you devour it at the same time, it can be the kind of sandwich to lay out the evening in phases of distress. Frequently I discard the dish hamburger from my request and let myself know I'll eat just half. I generally eat the entire thing and despise myself through my untouched supper later in the day.

As of late, in an attack of desire, I set out to make the thing at home, re-designing both the seared eggplant and the proportion of the fixings to make it a human-size sandwich, the kind of dinner that offers fulfillment without harming anybody, that conveys heavenliness at a lower expense to the body that devours it. It is still a giant food. It is still the best sandwich.



Credit Davide Luciano for The New York Times. Nourishment beautician: Maggie Ruggiero. Prop beautician: Gozde Eker.

To begin, broil the eggplant. You can do this up to a day or two early. I utilize little Italian eggplants, eight to 10 inches long, with dull, sparkly skins, firm to the touch. You can leave the skins on, or you can peel them, as do some bosses of the fricasseed eggplant diversion, including the Franks Castronovo and Falcinelli, of the Frankies Spuntinos eateries in Brooklyn and Manhattan. At that point I cut the eggplants into meager boards and salt them for a moment, not so much since they're sharp but rather on the grounds that the salt draws dampness from the tissue, falling its cell structure and diminishing the measure of oil the eggplant gets when it cooks. Smear them well with paper towels to expel the fluid and the overabundance salt, and you will be ready.

The singing is serial: A first gone through hot olive oil cooks the eggplant and gently tans it; a second, after the cooked eggplant has been plunged in a wash of egg and Parmesan cheddar, gives it a somewhat puffed hull, seared in spots, salty and sleek in the most ideal way. (Some old formulas for Roman-style broiled eggplant require a dunk in bread scraps taking after the egg, yet I think this is needless excess.) Let the twice-fricasseed eggplant deplete a bit, and the boards will keep, softly secured, for a couple of hours on the ledge or for a couple days in the refrigerator. They're best at room temperature.

Whatever is left of the sandwich is shopping: Italian saint rolls, or pieces of Italian bread, and in addition new entire milk mozzarella (however I've had great results even with the plastic-y stuff from the grocery store; simply make sure to permit it to come to room temperature before collecting your dinner). Keeping in mind you can positively make the meal meat yourself, how about we not overcomplicate things; you've effectively broiled eggplant. (Veggie lovers can maintain a strategic distance from the meal hamburger.) In conclusion, you'll need salted Italian hot cherry peppers, which you can cut into rounds and apply as craved. The mayonnaise is my inclination. I know some individuals despise it. In sandwich making, frame dependably takes after capacity. So wherever you descend on the topic of mayonnaise, take after your choice with a little pile of broiled eggplant on the sandwich's base, trailed by another of cut mozzarella and another of dish meat, then top the entire with the cherry peppers. The eggplant shields the base of the sandwich from the dampness of the cheddar, while the top retains the causticity and flame of the peppers. Fold the mass together, and you have the best sandwich there is. For now, in any event.