hen I was growing up, sandwich was a piece of bread with butter and a slice of sausage. While my peers gleefully munched on theirs, I was always appalled at such lowliness and lack of finesse. I always knew there is more to sandwiches than slabs of unadulterated cholesterol and meat of dubious provenance stuffed in pig's intestines. But I seemed to be the only one around with that opinion.Paper-thin salty ham and fresh-smelling cucumber slices on earthy rye bread (sumuštinis su kumpiu ir agurku) washed down with powerfully aromatic espresso in a café at the Vilnius Railway Station - this is my strongest memory of my first parents-free vacation at 15. These days I know more far-fetched ways to fancify a peace of bread but I still keep trying to recreate that feeling of a newly found freedom in a vaguely foreign city. I just use better ingredients.
Swedish knäckerbröd bread with sesame seeds, smoked Schwartzwälder ham, French mustard with unripe black peppers and - it's never the same without them - slices of cucumber and three umlauts!
Posts
That sandwich looks delicious. I take issue with your use of the term "ethnic" (I would argue all food is "ethnic food,") but I guess it just gives me another topic for my own blog (:
ReplyDeleteWe actually concur here: ALL food is ethnic. Please do give me the link to your rant that I inspired you for though!
ReplyDelete"Sandwich with ham and cucumber" in Lithuanian would be "Sumuštinis su kumpiu ir agurku".
ReplyDeleteSandwich with "meat of dubious provenance stuffed in pig's intestines" (sausage :) ) and cucumber is "Sumuštinis su dešra ir agurku".
Thanks, Andrius! I still prefer to give dešra a wiiiiide berth! :)))
ReplyDelete