Brent was quite correct when he confessed that the subject would be more controversial than taking a stand on religion, politics, abortion, gay marriage and taxes.
But when I read his editorial on the tomato sandwich, I found myself reloading my Kraft mayonnaise jar and pulling out my rye bread. We’re ready for a duel.
Now I’m not saying his recipe for a North Carolina tomato sandwich is all wrong. It’s not. He makes some very good points, especially about using a ripe tomato and one that has not been refrigerated (yuck).
But his choice of Duke’s went over the line, and his requirement of white (Wonder, at that) bread just goes to show that Brent, bless his heart, is still a growing boy whose taste buds are not yet fully developed. I’m not sure just when he became so uppity about mayonnaise. Maybe it has something to do with a former position as speech writer for the governor, honors for his father and his graduation from the same high school where Sen. John Edwards graduated.
The truth is, you don’t need a special kind of mayonnaise or a special kind of bread to make a really high quality North Carolina tomato sandwich.
I like rye bread for my tomato sandwiches. For cheese or ham sandwiches, I prefer rye bread with caraway seed, but for tomato sandwiches, I pick the unseeded variety.
(That reminds me of an anecdote about the late P.G. Wodehouse, the English humorist and author of the Bertie Wooster books. Wodehouse reportedly decided to make New York City his permanent home after he was repeatedly frustrated in efforts to find proper rye bread with seed in London).
The part about slathering two slices of bread with thick layers of mayo is correct, as is Brent’s instruction that the tomato be of medium size, the slices at least half an inch thick. Salt and pepper is a matter of taste. I don’t find pepper necessary, but a little salt is good.
Serving should be prompt, but immediacy is not required. In fact, if you take a minute to pour a glass of iced tea (sweetened, of course) or open a Coke or simply prepare some other Sandhills dew, the sandwich will not spoil. It will only become sloppier, and thus tastier.
Brent was right on target when he suggests that you partake of this summertime delicacy while leaning over the kitchen sink.
However, he failed to advise that the tomato should be locally grown and vine-ripened. Do not, I repeat, do not try this with a supermarket tomato. The other missing piece of advice is a warning about final sandwich preparation — you do not, ever, under any circumstances, cut a tomato sandwich in half, or in wedges. It won’t work.
Returning to the barbecue war, I want to add some comments about the side dishes. The actual preparation of the meat (pork, of course, and chopped) is out of my line of expertise. (However, I am an expert on the sloppy tomato sandwich.)
As a product of northeastern North Carolina, I grew up enjoying barbecue served with Brunswick stew, white potatoes boiled in a light barbecue sauce, sweet slaw and hush puppies. The Brunswick stew came in a small serving but was rich with vegetables, usually beans, corn, peas and tomatoes. I’m not sure what kind of meat was used for seasoning.
When I moved to Laurinburg almost 50 years ago, you can imagine my dismay when my first plate of barbecue was garnished with candied sweet potatoes and slaw and missing the Brunswick stew. The hush puppies were really good, but I found the sweet potatoes too rich a side dish for the natural richness of barbecue. Both the slaw and the barbecue tasted a little different too.
The barbecue to which I was introduced at that time was frequently served at church gatherings. (I’ve heard, but cannot document, a report that Barbecue Presbyterian Church in a neighboring county is named for a nearby creek, not for the barbecue dish).
I grew to enjoy the different style of barbecue and its accompaniments, but I still prefer the barbecue of my childhood.
And today, the churches down my way are changing their practices. Gone are the sweet potatoes, replaced by baked beans.
The barbecue, slaw and hush puppies remain. Fortunately some things don’t change.
Next year maybe we’ll pursue another controversy: the appropriate way to eat watermelon. Is it best warm from the field? Or is it better refrigerated? Should you dispose of seed by using cutlery? If so, which is better: spoon or fork? The issues are endless.
Contact Florence Gilkeson at 947-4962 or at florence@thepilot.com.
