Again With The Butty?

Are you getting bored with closeup photos and hyperbolic verbiage about the same damn sandwich day after day? If so, too badsky, because I'm not getting tired of eating it.

I found the brown sauce. Turns out "brown sauce" in the British Isles is the same (or close) to steak sauce here in the colonies. So, off I went to my local upscale supermarket to obtain my very first ever bottle of A-1. My friend the butcher had to show me where it was kept - only two bottles on the lowest shelf in the sauce aisle, 'way down by the floor. I think they were a little embarrassed that they even carry it for peasants like me.

I took it in triumph to the checkout, along with my free-range, local, organic chicken and other assorted snobberies.

At home, I fixed my fourth bacon butty, this time with a dollop of brown sauce oozing out. Perhaps if I was raised with steak sauce, I would have appreciated it more but I'm a simple soul and I tend to like simple foods. I actually prefer my bacon sandwiches with just the butter and the toast. Still, I'm happy I tried it.

I have read that, in England, it's traditional to have a block party on the day of the royal wedding where all the neighbors sit down together and have a meal at tables that are set up in the middle of the street and draped with British flags, a celebration for all who were not invited to Westminster Abbey. I'm very tempted to invite my neighbors to set up tables in our funny little alley and, draping them in American flags (of course), sit down to a dinner of British bacon butties, complete with champagne to toast the royal couple.

It might be a way to use up that bottle of brown sauce.

It's All Her Fault

When we were growing up, my sister and I didn't always get along. No, that's not correct - we never got along. We were forever pointing fingers at each other and claiming, "It's her fault!"

Now that I'm slightly more adult, at least in years if not in behavior, I'm still pointing fingers. This time at J-in-Wales, who commented on Cookiecrumb's post of long ago, that she should put a dippy egg into her chip butty.

Dippy egg! And me with a box full of pastured eggs in the fridge!

I couldn't get to my toaster fast enough, to toast more of that wonderful bread, sizzle another slice of the killer Canadian bacon and gently fry one of those eggs in the same pan. I prepped the toast with a light scrape of mayo, assembled and took that first unbelievable bite.

OMG.

O.M.G.

OMG!

If my sister and I had had something like this to eat, peace might have reigned in our home. Even if it always was her fault.

First Try

Like almost everyone I know, I was reading the sandwich issue of Saveur magazine when I came across a reference to a bacon sandwich. They had me from the word "bacon."

In this country, we love a good bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, but tomato season is months away and this sandwich didn't mention anything from the vegetable kingdom, unless you count the bread.

It seems to be a favorite in England, where it is served in pubs and greasy spoons, often with brown sauce or ketchup added but sometimes, it's just buttered bread and bacon. When I looked for additional references, it seemed to be less like what we call bacon and more like Canadian bacon, quite a bit leaner. I thought immediately of the Comstock bacon sold at Butler Meats in Carson City and wished I had some of that.

Anyway, I bought some Canadian bacon, buttered two halves of a split herbed focaccia slice, grilled them and the bacon briefly, and slapped together a sandwich.

The verdict: Keep Trying. It was too lean to be tasty and needed a smokier, tastier product than the one I bought, which shall remain nameless. I'd also cook the bread in the same pan as the bacon next time, to let it absorb some of that flavor. I will look for some steak sauce to juice it up a bit.

I'll keep trying until I make a really tasty bacon butty; it will be its own reward.