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Croque Madame French Toast Cups

My 7th grade students and I spent most of class today making fun of their writing.

Wait, that sounds bad, doesn’t it? Am I currently losing teacher points? I definitely would’ve lost a few if you’d walked in and seen me reading a student’s paper aloud, barely restraining laughter (while the class didn’t even bother trying.)

Reserve judgment, though! I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds.

See, the students were actually nominating themselves for this roasting. The papers we were snickering at were their earliest assignments from last year, and they were so amusing because the kids are so much better at writing now. Because they grow by leaps and bounds over the two years I teach them, I always plan a day at the end of 7th grade for them to complete a writing reflection. Today was that day.

I originally planned the reflection to be an individual, silent activity. Every year, however, it inevitably evolves into a class-wide discussion, mostly because they love to share the absurd things they find in their early work. About 5 minutes into the assignment, a student will raise his or her hand to announce, “My handwriting was terrible back then!” Another hand will shoot into the air: “I used periods in a list where I should have used commas!” Another hand: “This sentence didn’t even make sense!”

My favorite moment today was when E. and A. shared their “thesaurusy” papers. After I exhorted them at the beginning of the year to work on their word choice, both girls resorted to the thesaurus. It was an excellent impulse, but their execution was . . . ah, imperfect. They doubled over in laughter today as they shared sentences from that early paper: “I reckon human cloning is spurious,” and “I conjecture that human cloning is shoddy.”

I’m happy to report that both girls use more appropriate diction these days.

All of the good-natured ribbing and laughter today did make their writing analysis take longer, and I could have shushed them and redirected their focus. The truth is, though, I relish their incredulity. I’ve saved all of their writing for two years just to savor this moment with them. They giggle at themselves and at others, search for concrete ways their writing has improved, and realize that the 360 language arts classes they just completed actually taught them something.

Secretly, their reflection becomes my reflection: what did my course accomplish? How have these kids grown?

For my students, I provide reflection opportunities like this, complete with detailed prompts to guide their thoughts. For me, though, reflecting is like breathing. I’m naturally introspective (sometimes to a fault!) so that I can hardly plan the future without evaluating (and re-evaluating, and re-evaluating again) the past.

Recently, pondering the past led me to revisit these adorable stuffed French toast cups. They’re one of my favorite breakfast/brunch recipes and I’ve known for awhile that I wanted to create some variations on the French toast cup theme.

In these little Croque Madame Cups, sweet French toast cradles salty ham, mellow Gruyère cheese, and a gorgeous yolky baked egg. The cups self-sauce as the yolk breaks over the contents, and with a quick dip in some maple syrup, each bite is perfection. They’re a little more fiddly than just making French toast or just making a sandwich, but they’re cute enough for a fancy brunch and so worth the effort.

They were a delicious, luxurious way to reinvent my French toast cups, but I’m betting I’m not finished yet! Those cups are destined for even more fun fillings.

Since we’re being reflective today, reflect on your year so far: how have you grown in 2012?

One year ago: Blueberry Cream Cheese Almond Braid
Two years ago: Lemon Triumph Cake

Croque Madame French Toast Cups


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 8 cups

These little Croque Madame French Toast Cups take two messy dishes — a traditional croque madame and French toast — and combine them in finger food format. Apart from being more convenient to serve and eat at a brunch or breakfast, they’re outright adorable. I love the gorgeous flavor of Gruyère in each cup, but if you’re on a budget you can use good Swiss. Make sure to buy good quality ham, though, because it really makes the dish.

Ingredients:
1/2 cup heavy cream, plus 8 teaspoons, divided
1/2 cup milk
3 large eggs plus 4-8 eggs, divided (see note below)
2 tablespoons honey, microwaved for 20 seconds (but not while still IN THE BEAR, y’all!)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
8 slices day-old or stale sandwich bread
4 tablespoons butter
a couple of slices good ham
a couple of slices Gruyère cheese (or Swiss) and some grated for topping
salt and pepper

Directions:
Note: Cracking the egg over each French toast cup before baking is the hardest part of this recipe, because a whole egg has too much liquid and overflows the cup. I’ll tell you what I did to get the right amount of egg in each cup, and then I’ll make a suggestion for how you might be able to do it even easier. What I did is crack the egg and pry it open just enough to let half the white and half the yolk slip into one French toast cup (using the shell to reserve the other half of the egg). I then released the other half of the egg over another cup. I think it’d be even easier, though, to just crack 8 eggs into a wide bowl and use a spoon to scoop a yolk and a little white out into each French toast cup. You’d end up using more eggs, but this way each cup will have a whole yolk, which is lovely!

In a medium bowl, whisk together the milk, cream, eggs, honey, cinnamon, and salt (this step can be done the night before and refrigerated). When you’re ready to cook your French toast, pour this mixture into a cake pan or pie dish.

Prepare your bread by removing the crusts (I stack the slices and use a long serrated knife to remove all the crusts at once) and roll each slice with a rolling pin to slightly flatten and elongate it. Dip each slice of bread into your custard mixture for about 8-10 seconds on each side before carefully removing it with a spatula to a cooling rack over a sheet pan or over the sink. Allow the excess moisture to drain off of the slices for 1-2 minutes.

To cook French toast, melt 1 tablespoon of butter over medium heat in a skillet. Put 2 slides of bread at a time into the pan and toast gently to golden brown (about 2-3 minutes per side). Remove the French toast to a cooling rack to cool completely. Repeat with all the slices of bread, replenishing butter in the pan as needed. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. When the French toast is cool enough to handle, take each piece and gently tuck it into the well of a greased muffin tin, forming a bowl. Tuck some ham and Gruyère cheese in each cup. Place an egg over top (see above note). Lightly salt and pepper each cup and then top each egg with 1 teaspoon heavy cream.

Bake the cups at 400 degrees F for 10-12 minutes, watching carefully. Pull them out when the white is set but the yolk is not fully cooked through (has a little jiggle.) Top each cup with a little shredded Gruyère when they’re hot from the oven. Set them out to cool and continue cooking from their residual heat (at least 10 minutes). Use a knife to loosen the edges from the pan (and you might even need to use it as a lever to loosen the bottom of the cup, since some of the egg will have leaked out and sealed the cup to its well.) Remove the cups to a serving plate (if they seem to be wobbly, leave them in the pan a little longer). Serve them warm on a bed of maple syrup.

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Krispy Kreme Doughnut Croque Madame

(Will it totally squander any shred of credibility gained from my New York Times mention and our fantastic discussion to post a doughnut sandwich right now? Yes? Oh.)

My 6th grade students and I take a field trip to High Point every year to watch a play produced by the North Carolina Shakespeare Festival. Shakespeare is the main event, but there’s another attraction in High Point that inevitably catches the students’ attention: the 60-year-old historic Krispy Kreme Doughnut shop on Main Street. It’s exciting to see the “Hot Doughnuts Now” sign pop into view each year, but the first year we went, the doughnuts became a major source of dissent.

See, I divide students into small car groups before a field trip so that parent volunteers can drive us. That particular year we had 4 different vehicles carting us to High Point and back. After the play, each vehicle arrived back at school and unloaded a group of tired, contented 6th graders — until the last car arrived.

When the door opened on that car, I watched all heck break loose. Each kid stepped out, much to the shock and dismay of their classmates, sporting a paper Krispy Kreme hat. That’s right: while every other kid had been driven straight back to school, this car had stopped for doughnuts.

My teacher sense kicked into gear. I recognized this moment! I knew it would come someday. This was the fateful moment when I had to whip out the line. You know the one (because you’ve either used it on your own kids or had it used on you). I looked around at all their outraged faces and said, feeling much older than I really was, “Guys, life’s not fair.”

They got over it. But since then, we’ve always made it a point to put “stop for a quick doughnut” on the field trip agenda. It’s lovely to see them all get out of their cars with paper Krispy Kreme hats and fun memories at the end of the day.

Personally, I have trouble “stopping for a quick doughnut.” It’s easier for me to stop for, say, a dozen doughnuts. In case you don’t already know this about me: I am wild for Krispy Kremes. Cake doughnuts are fine (only KK’s cake doughnuts, though; I’m not a fan of that other cake doughnut chain), but those yeasty rings of love are my kryptonite.

Last year I created the “Just Trust Me” Fried Bologna Doughnutwich (no really, trust me! It’s so good!) and recently I got a hankering for another version.

This sandwich is a take on a croque madame, which is a grilled ham and cheese sandwich topped with a fried egg and sometimes served on French toast. In this version, however, two original glazed Krispy Kreme doughnuts kick that French toast to the curb.

Listen, I know you’re skeptical (everyone gets skeptical when they see a doughnutwich, and perhaps that is the most appropriate initial reaction), but the melty Gruyère, salty ham, and creamy “sauce” from the egg yolk are absolutely insane with the sweet glazed doughnut. Maybe I should call this the “Just Trust Me (Again)” Krispy Kreme Doughnut Croque Madame? It’s probably a once-a-year sort of treat, but I hope you’ll give it a try.

What’s the “life’s not fair!” moment you remember from your childhood? (here’s another one of mine.)

One year ago: World’s Best Grilled Cheese (sharp cheddar cheese & caramelized onions on beer bread)
Two years ago: Caramel Fudge Brownie Cheesecake

Krispy Kreme Doughnut Croque Madame


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 2 sandwiches

Proving once and for all that I’m not a food snob, I offer you a sandwich on . . . a doughnut. The first Krispy Kreme breakfast sandwich I made was so amazing that I was ready for more. This time around I combined salty ham, melty Gruyère, and an over-easy fried egg on an original glazed Krispy Kreme doughnut to create a croque madame. The flavors are amazing together — trust me!

Ingredients:
4 Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnuts (or you can cut 2 in half if you’re delicate)
2 thick slices of good smoked ham
2 slices Gruyère cheese
Hellmann’s mayonnaise
2 eggs
salt and pepper
2-3 tablespoons butter

Directions:
Lay 2 doughnuts out on a plate. Melt a tablespoon of butter in a skillet over medium-high heat and sear the slices of ham on both sides briefly. Remove them to a paper towel to drain for a bit before placing each slice onto a doughnut. Top with a thin slice or two of Gruyère and microwave for a a few seconds to get the cheese melty. Smear with some mayonnaise.

Melt the last tablespoon of butter in your skillet. Break one egg at a time into the pan, salt and pepper it, and fry it to your desired doneness (I’d like to make a pitch for over-easy or -medium, since the gooey yolk is delicious in this sandwich!) Place the fried egg briefly on the paper-towel lined plate to drain off the excess butter, and then place one on top of each stack of ham and Gruyère. Top both sandwiches with another doughnut as the “top bun.” Serve immediately.

P.S. In case you’re wondering, this is not a sponsored post. I just really love Krispy Kremes.

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Poppy Seed Ham & Swiss Slider Melts

When Mike was in middle school, his friend Chris decided they needed superhero names. Giving each other superhero names is apparently what adolescent boys were doing when I thought they might be writing me love letters. Oh.

Chris named himself Whopper Man and, inspired by the Dr. Perky soda Mike brought for lunch every day, he dubbed Mike Generics Man.

Even all those years ago, when Mike was in 7th grade and I was in 3rd (okay, well that makes it sound creepy), we were meant for each other — because I’m totally Generics Woman.

Don’t try to tell me that name brand yellow mustard tastes any different than store brand yellow mustard. Or that table salt needs to be produced by a certain company. I do love local and/or quirky and/or artisan products, but at the grocery store, I’d say about 90% of the products I buy are generic. And in case you haven’t noticed, I eat well.

In fact, I’m always a little surprised (but not judgey; don’t be judgey, y’all) to see someone grab the name brand can of tomatoes, or the name brand box of tissues. I’m sure they have their reasons — maybe they were raised in a home where only name brand items were used, maybe they like a flavor or scent that doesn’t have a generic equivalent, or maybe they’ve had a bad experience with the generics at some point — but all I can think of is how many extra dollars they’re shelling out.

Who knows, maybe this is what crazy coupon ladies (a title I use with the utmost affection) think when they look at my cart, right? Don’t I know if I’d just buy 18 more dish soaps, it would actually be cheaper than buying just 2?

Despite my penchant for buying cheap, there are some things that I’ve come to realize you shouldn’t skimp on. I don’t care how cheap the generic brand is. I don’t care how similar it looks to the real thing. For some things, no substitution will do. For instance:

1. Laundry detergent. I spend a bajillion dollars buying fancy schmancy “darks only” laundry detergent to try and save my clothes. I still keenly remember the time when, years ago, ONE WASH with the wrong detergent ruined an awesome pair of jeans. Then again, I have some superhuman knack for ruining clothing, so maybe I did something wrong. Maybe my superhero name should be What Happened To My Sweater Woman.

2. Toilet Paper. Everyone’s had that awkward moment where they realize they bought the 1-ply. Enough said.

3. Hair color. In fact, don’t even buy name brand hair color. Go to the flippin’ salon and PAY SOMEONE WHO KNOWS WHAT THEY’RE DOING. And don’t try to get away with going to the cheapie hair school salon, either.

Trust me on this. You’re either going to end up platinum hooker blonde because your mother leaves the dye in too long (thanks, Mom, for those memories) or you’ll end up with striped hair. Intentional stripes can be cute. Inadvertent stripes are not.

4. Coke. This one brings back fond memories of the time Mike tried to prove to me that I couldn’t differentiate between generic and regular Coke Zero. We did a blind taste test — well, sort of, except that I didn’t even have to taste anything. As soon as the cup got within a foot of my face, I could smell the difference. I think he was pretty impressed (or was that the facial expression for disgusted?) There’s just nothing like the real thing, y’all.

5. Paper towels. I do actually buy generic paper towels, but I kind of hate them. They’re so flimsy that they rip in half when you’re trying to pull them off the roll. How many more times will this happen before I suck it up and spend an extra 50 cents? Only time will tell.

6. Shampoo. I sound like I swallowed a commercial, but my hair really does feel silkier and more manageable with a quality shampoo. I go through a predictable cycle: I’ll get tired of spending so much money, decide to purchase generic shampoo, lament my decision after every shower for a month, and then re-decide to exclusively purchase name brand shampoos.

7. MAYONNAISE. This, much like the timeless debate about rolling the toilet paper over or under, can cause quite the firestorm, as we found out on Willow Bird Baking’s Facebook wall. Listen, I’m all about supporting your unique personalities and tastes. I love you just the way you are. But just to be clear, there is only one appropriate brand of mayonnaise: Hellmann’s, also known as Best Foods.

Now, pardon me while I sign out of my email and hide under my desk to avoid the inevitable mayonnaise fallout.

Unfortunately, the original version of this recipe for Poppy Seed Ham & Swiss Slider Melts called for Miracle Whip. Let’s just say if my superhero name were Mayonnaise Girl, Miracle Whip would be my arch nemesis. I hate the stuff. I still remember sitting at a friend’s house as a child and tasting it for the first time. I had to seriously evaluate whether or not I could bear to finish my sandwich.

Despite my fierce mayonnaise loyalty, I thought perhaps this time around I should stick to the recipe and use the Miracle Whip. What if that awful Miracle Whippy flavor was somehow crucial for the final product? With more than a little shame, I purchased a tiny jar of it just in case.

It was a short lived “just in case.” All it took a microscopic taste of that stuff upon arriving home to remember how much I hate it. I promptly threw it out of the recipe altogether. Turns out I do have some sense.

I’m happy to report that when slathered with the right sort of mayonnaise, stuffed with melty Swiss and honey ham, and smothered in a tangy butter sauce, these sliders really were the bee’s knees. They’re so easy to throw together, but come out of the oven gooey and comforting. And lest I totally offend a portion of my readers, I should add that (sigh) you can use Miracle Whip on them if you really want to. I’ll just look the other way.

Do you roll the toilet paper over or under? And (be gentle!) what’s your preferred mayonnaise?

Poppy Seed Ham & Swiss Slider Melts


Recipe by: slightly adapted from The Girl Who Ate Everything
Yield: 24 sliders

These gooey, cheesy, delicious sliders have all the makings of the perfect recipe: they’re easy to make, fun to eat, and so, so good. They seems to inspire some sweet nostalgia, too — several people who ate them mentioned that they remembered this meal from their childhood! Just make sure to use tasty ham and Swiss cheese — and of course, good mayonnaise!

Ingredients:
24 good white dinner rolls (I like Hawaiian or potato rolls)
mayonnaise for spreading (or half mayonnaise and half Miracle Whip whisked together, if you must!)
24 pieces good honey ham
24 slices Swiss cheese
1/2 cup butter, melted
1 tablespoon poppy seeds
1 1/2 tablespoons yellow mustard
1 tablespoon minced onion
1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F and lightly spray a baking dish with cooking spray. Split each roll and spread on a nice layer of mayonnaise (I love mayonnaise on melts, so my layer was thick). Stuff each roll with a slice of ham and the slice of Swiss cheese (I tore larger slices into fourths to make them fit and then poked all four pieces into each roll). Pack these stuffed rolls in close together in a large baking dish.

In a small bowl, whisk together the melted butter, poppy seeds, mustard, onion, and Worcestershire sauce. Pour this sauce evenly over all the sandwiches until they’re all coated (the original recipe notes that you don’t have to use all the sauce, but I did — maybe my rolls were bigger.) Let these sit for around 10 minutes until the butter starts to set up. Cover your baking dish with foil and bake the sliders for 12-15 minutes or until nice and melty. Uncover and bake them for 2 minutes more to toast up the tops. Serve warm and gooey from the oven.

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Fresh Open-Faced California Sandwich

This past weekend I attended the Foodbuzz Blogger Festival in San Francisco, California, 2,700 miles away from my home. Traveling alone is always a meaningful, reflective experience for me, and over the next couple of weeks, I’ll be sharing vignettes that I hope are meaningful to you, as well.

. . .

“Can you tell we’re tourists?” the gossamer-haired man asked the woman at the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) information desk after she guided him through the process of purchasing a ticket. He chuckled toward his smiling wife, and they walked over toward the ticket machine.

I walked up to the information desk, wondering if I was about to annoy the attendant by asking a question she’d already been asked a hundred times this morning. Like everyone else I’d met so far in the Bay City, though, she cheerfully offered detailed advice. With some help from the tourist couple who’d gone before me, I successfully purchased a subway ticket and stepped onto the escalator to descend into the rumbling belly of the city.

After a posing a few more clueless questions to kind San Franciscans, I stepped onto a BART train and settled into my seat with a self-congratulatory sigh. We sped off only to hear a robotic voice a few seconds later announcing the next stop: “Montgomery.”

Oh. Montgomery? I looked at the map on the wall. I was trying to head to the Mission area to visit the gorgeous, iconic Tartine Bakery. Montgomery, however, was in the opposite direction — toward Oakland across the bay. Once again I turned to a stranger. “If I’m trying to get to 16th and Mission–” I began.

“Oh, you’re headed the wrong way,” she said with a smile. “You needed the train on the other side of the tracks.” It suddenly dawned on me that of course the trains, like cars, would go in two different directions. I felt a little sheepish.

“Oh, thanks! I guess it’s a good thing I realized after only one stop,” I said.

“Definitely. You’re fine. You’re not under the water yet!” she replied.

Her reassurance at once comforted me and alerted me to an alarming fact that I hadn’t considered about the trains: they go under the water. Under the San Francisco Bay. Seriously? I could hear my mom’s voice in my head saying, “What if there’s an earthquake while you’re under there?!” I jumped off at the next stop and changed trains, relieved that I didn’t have to go under the water until I visited Oakland later in my trip.

A couple of hours later I stood at a bus stop, blissful after devouring a frangipane croissant, a gruyere and black pepper gougere, and a Mexican Coke at the communal table in Tartine. I hurriedly grabbed $2 out of my pack as the bus pulled up, but I had the good sense to pause on the bus steps and ask, “Do you head toward Lombard?”

I expected the bus driver to wave me onto the bus, impatient with silly tourist questions, but again, I was met with generosity: “Oh, you want the 22 that runs on the other side of the street.” He pointed to the bus stop across the way. A kind man at the bus stop confirmed the bus driver’s words, “Just wait over there and another bus will be along in a moment.” Buses, it seemed — like trains! and cars! and everything else, Julie! — ran in both directions. Since you might be wondering at this point, I promise I’m not dumb.

I walked across the street, once again redirected by the kindness of others.

Are you plowing ahead on your own power lately? Personally, I never grew out of that independent toddler stage of life — the one where you’re constantly insisting, “I’ll do it myself!” There’s nothing quite like being alone in a strange city across the country from your home to break you of that intransigence, though.

I found my way to Tartine and then up to the Golden Gate Bridge on Friday because I was willing to accept the generosity and support of others. (And if I hadn’t found my way to Tartine, what a tragedy that would’ve been!)

Reach out for help when you need to. You don’t have to handle everything alone. And hey, you’re not under the water yet.

. . .

What better way to kick off my California posts than with a gorgeous open-faced California Sandwich? It’s just as healthy as it looks, but don’t worry — it doesn’t lack a thing in the taste department. In fact, it’s one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever made in my kitchen. It’s a fresh, tangy combination of flavors that you just feel good eating. I made it on sourdough bread, which I love — and how appropriate for all this talk of San Francisco.

Was there a time in your life when you’ve had to break down and accept the help and kindness of others?

Fresh Open-faced California Sandwich


Recipe by: Adapted from Ezra Pound Cake
Yield: 2 open-faced sandwiches

This quick sandwich is cool and refreshing. The bright California salad is comprised of tomatoes, cucumbers, cilantro, and avocado bathed in lime juice. It rests on a tangy chive spread and a thick, toasty slice of sourdough bread. I was pleasantly surprised at how delicious the finished product was considering how little effort went into assembly. This sandwich would make the perfect lunch or light dinner.

Chive Spread Ingredients:
2 tablespoons plain yogurt
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh chives
Salt and pepper, to taste

California Salad Ingredients*:
1 avocado, peeled, pitted and diced
1 tomato, cored and chopped
1 cucumber, peeled, seeded and diced
Squeeze of lime juice
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
Salt and pepper, to taste
*This makes enough salad for 4 sandwiches, if you wanted to put a smaller amount on each, but I really heaped it on. I wanted more salad and less bread per sandwich. Yum!

Other Things You Need:
2 slices of thick sourdough bread
1/2 cup alfalfa sprouts

Directions:
Make the chive spread by mixing the yogurt, mayonnaise, chives, salt, and pepper in a small bowl. Set aside. Toast the 2 slices of bread in toaster or in a buttered skillet over medium heat. Lay these out on a plate.

Make the California salad by tossing avocado, tomato, cucumber, lime juice, cilantro, salt, and pepper together in a bowl. Spread each slice of bread with half of your chive spread and pile on half of the alfalfa sprouts. Then top with half of the California salad, piled high. I ate mine with a knife and fork and considerable enthusiasm.

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Pretty Italian Pressed Sandwiches

Pressed —

— the air on East Bay Street was the wing of a pinned insect: dry and crisp, humming with vibrations (sound? wind?) as if still animate. The man approached us on the sidewalk with a swagger a few degrees too severe to be confidence, two hooks for hands, a face that blended into the darkness. Did we want to buy some flowers? My instinct was no-thank-you, but you uncrumpled a few dollar bills and suddenly we had a little bouquet: a peach rose haloed in anonymous blue blooms and holly berries, with the stems wrapped in tin foil.

We were still cynical in the darkness — were the hooks real? a ploy for sympathy? Later I unwrapped the bouquet to put the flowers in a plastic soda bottle filled with water from the hotel sink, and we saw the tears from the hooks in the tinfoil. Eight years later, the flowers are pressed in a bag in the back of my closet somewhere I won’t happen upon them and be injured.

Pressed —

— a late September night when I was five, when summer hadn’t yet given up the ghost. Both my mother and father were both at work. My sisters and I knew that the weather was growing more sinister. What warned us? Was it the lightning? A phone call from my halo-haired mother at the hospital? A screeching report on the news? I don’t remember, but I remember the odd mix of fear and excitement as we realized a hurricane was coming.

I had vague notions about what to do in severe weather — something about getting on your knees in a school hallway, building a fortress for your vital organs with your spine, your little hands crossed over your head. Or something about being in a basement, which we didn’t have, or in a room without windows, or was it mirrors, or was it both? The hall closet in the center of the first floor housed a hot water heater I felt sure would burst and boil us all in the middle of the storm.

My sisters conferred and decided we would take shelter under the daybed in their room, nevermind that it was upstairs and nevermind that my scrawny five-year-old arms could’ve probably lifted it. Suddenly, their clutches were on me and I was being pushed, prodded, pressed under the bed — the first one under, destined to be pinned in by the wall in front of me and both of their bodies behind me.

As I felt myself being entombed by the bed frame, a bag of bricks settled on my lungs and thick claustrophobia blanketed my esophagus — suddenly I was clawing, kicking, screeching. After a few moments of intense struggle, my battered sisters gave me up for lost and climbed under the bed themselves, probably vowing to kill me themselves if the hurricane left me unscathed. I ran into the living room with a rebellious heart, opened the blinds, and stood in front of the window as if it were a movie screen, watching the weather bend the city.

Pressed —

— the crush as I fell off the end of the slide into the dirt, the crunch as the boy behind me brought his heavy shoe down on my nose, the splatter of blood on the hopscotch court and on my pink nylon windbreaker —

Pressed —

— full body weight on bone, a long night of pain, the eventual sling, the osteal memory: an ache along a marrow corridor.

— the pressure of “using the body to eliminate the body,” the weight of no weight, the bottomless glass of chocolate milk that was the road out.

— my hands pressed under the tiny basil plant, ensuring his baby roots made contact with the new soil beneath.

— freshly made ricotta cheese unceremoniously hanged in cheesecloth, mass and gravity pressing the extra water out toward the center of the Earth,

— a new cast-iron skillet placed on top of the wrapped sandwich and then, when the weight still seemed too slight, a cast iron grill pan added as well. The mass of cast-iron compressing the thick, crusty ciabatta down into a rainbow of provolone, salami, roasted peppers. The pesto negotiating a seductive path through the bread’s caverns.

What are your memories of pressure?

Pretty Italian Pressed Sandwiches


Recipe by: adapted from The Cilantropist
Yields: about 5 servings

Ingredients:
1 loaf ciabatta bread
roasted red peppers or tomatoes
sliced hot salamis
sliced provolone cheese
fresh or deli pesto
fresh basil leaves

Directions:
Note: Make this sandwich a day in advance so it has time to press, but don’t leave it for much longer or it will get soggy. When adding each ingredient layer to the sandwich, your goal should be to ensure there’s complete coverage of the previous layer so that when you cut your sandwiches, the colors will be distinct and complete, with no gaps.

Use a long serrated knife to slice the loaf of ciabatta lengthwise. Spread on a thin layer of pesto (don’t saturate the bread) and then lay out a layer of roasted peppers or tomatoes. Next, add about 3 layers of salami (overlapping slices) and a thick layer of cheese on top of that. Top with a layer of fresh basil leaves. Spread more pesto on the top slice of ciabatta and settle it on top of the sandwich. Wrap the sandwich tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate with a weight on top — I used a cast-iron skillet and a cast-iron grill pan. When ready to serve, use a serrated knife to slice into pretty squares.

P.S. This recipe was part of my elementary school throwback picnic! Visit that post to see more picnicky fun.

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