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In the South, we love our tomato sandwiches, and at my house, my husband and I are no different.
Wait. That’s a lie.
While it may be true that in the South, we love our tomato sandwiches, in this house, we are a house divided against itself on the topic of Tomato Sandwiches. I hope to God it doesn’t come to Civil War, but I can assure you that on this topic, I have been anything BUT civil with my husband, as I STRONGLY express my differing opinion.
The Gulf that lies between us is great. And that Gulf is filled with Miracle Whip.
If your body just involuntarily shivered, come sit next to me. Let me make you a tomato sandwich, the way a tomato sandwich SHOULD be made.
We’ll need the best bread we can scrounge up: hopefully some chewy, crusty artisan bread. Let’s drizzle the outside of each slice with a little olive oil and throw it on the griddle pan. Now run to the herb box outside the kitchen door and pick a couple of leaves of fresh basil. Good. Remove the bread that’s been lightly browned on one side from the grill. Lay down the lovely, juicy, thick slab of tomato on top of the first slice. Grind some pepper. Sprinkle some fresh sea salt. Drizzle with just a touch more olive oil. Spread the untoasted side of the other piece of bread with a modest amount of Hellman’s mayo. Place the mayo’d slice on top. (Drizzling the tomato with a splash of balsamic vinegar or adding in a slice or two of crisp bacon and lettuce are, of course, your choice. Welcome additions they may be, and certainly not cause for offense or incivility.)
My husband says that my tomato sandwiches remind him a lot of bruschetta. Fair enough. Bruschetta just means “grilled bread” and whatever topping you decide to grace it with. So, technically, my tomato sandwich is just a bruschetta with a top hat. But in the interests of preserving White Trash southern culture, such as it is, my husband felt strongly that he wanted to share his recipe on my blog, thus preserving it for the ages. There’s probably enough preservative in that plastic cheese slice to preserve it for SEVERAL ages, in my opinion.
But in the interests of fair and balanced journalism, I now present to you my husband’s version of a ‘Mater Sammich. I call it the White Trash Version. I think the fact that I gave him all the pictures in this post demonstrates my complete and utter confidence in mine own recipe’s inherent superiority. Plus, he was holding the camera, and would not give way to my pleas for journalistic integrity. (But since I’m writing the copy, I got him back. You’ll see.) Here’s how Rednecks make a ‘Mater Sammich:
Throw some white bread in the toaster. Slice up a slab of tomater. Salt & pepper it. Lay it on the toast, and peel you a processed cheese food slice of plastic – er, I mean Velveeter. Now slather that bread with sweet, nasty caulk. I mean Miracle Whip. Put on its little toast hat. Pour yerself an ice cold brew-ski.
You’ve just made a Redneck Brew-sketta.
Live it up in the time that is yet allotted to you, because your arteries are going to be filling up fast.
Please pin this post. Pinterest NEEDS Redneck Brew-skettas. So do Facebook and Twitter, for that matter.
And tell me: where do YOU stand on the Mayonnaise/Miracle Whip issue? Leave me a comment, and take a stand!
(I bet there are some abolitionists out there, who would rid the world of all creamy white spreads. Good luck with that!)