I’ve said it in the past (and literally two articles ago) that one of my favourite comfort foods is a sandwich. The humble sandwich. You can literally make a sandwich with anything and it can be considered a snack or a meal. Do you have freshly sliced cold cuts and provolone and day-old baguette? Make a sandwich. Sliced POM and American cheese? Make a sandwich. Random challah roll and last night’s leftover general tao chicken? BOOM, SANDWICH. I appreciate restaurants and cafes who list sandwiches on their menus, but there’s a special place in my heart for spots that specialize in it. Where the sandwich sits front and centre on the menu and everything else is periphery. I was told about this sandwich shop in Verdun that’s serving up delicious Italian sandwiches, so I checked Out Bossa on the Wellington strip.
What’s your favourite comfort food. Mine has to be the sandwich. It’s so versatile. Every culture and cuisine has a version of a bread-like carb vessel that holds meat and vegetables. The Chinese have baos and roujiamos, Vietnamese have banh mi, Middle-East has pitas, Venezuela, arepas, the list goes on. I grew up on sandwiches and I like to consider myself the King of Sandwiches. I can turn anything into a sandwich. Perhaps my affinity for leftovers comes from the fact that I kind of look like a sandwich myself. I have a soft and fluffy interior covered by a hard crusty shell. I’m often slathered with a slippery coating and stuffed with meat with some vegetables thrown in for decoration. Being said of how much I love sandwiches, you can imagine my excitement when I found out that Boucherie Marchigiani finally reopened.
You know that saying, if you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it was never meant to be. Does this ring true to you? It does to me… but about a sandwich. About 10 years ago, there was this small little lunch counter/wine bar in Little burgundy that I would go to for sandwiches. They had daily/weekly specials that I would get often and they always hit the spot. Life got in the way and I stopped going and kept telling myself I’ll hit them up for a lunch soon, but never did. One day, I pulled up and they disappeared. The place was called McKiernan Luncheonette.