Every now and again, I'll see a recipe in a cookbook and think, "That sounds fantastic!" and I'll put it on my food agenda, and then the day will come when it's time to make it, and I think, "That sounds fantastic! . . .but I don't really have what's needed to make this!"
And then I'll make it anyway.
That's kind of what happened with this sandwich. I kept the idea of the sandwich, but in execution, it's sort of like. . .it would be like being in the mood for a big scoop of ice cream with jimmies and instead, having a bowl of vanilla Greek yogurt. The yogurt's good. You like the yogurt. . .but it's not what it was supposed to be, and even though the yogurt was good, you can't help but feel a little disappointed.
It's not the sandwich's fault. It's mine for picking it when I knew I wasn't up to the execution. It's a panini, and not only do I not have a panini press, I also don't have anything resembling a panini press because all my cooking stuff is still in storage.
Sorry, sandwich. I'm sorry you never met your full potential, and that I was too cheap to go out and buy sourdough bread and artisan cheddar, which was what you wanted, and instead, I used wheat bread and pre-sliced, pre-packaged cheese. At least I used a delicious apple! Right?
What makes this situation all the more sad is that this is a really, really gorgeous cookbook, and I feel like I've let its authors down.
Sarah's Sad Apple and Cheese Sandwich
Makes one sad sandwich
Loosely Inspired By: Cooking From the Farmers' Market
2 sad pieces of wheat bread (sourdough if you want to do it right)
Several sad pieces of cheese (thinly sliced artisan cheddar if you're not besmirching the good name of sandwiches everywhere)
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 red apple, cut into slices
Brush one side of each sad piece of bread with olive oil. Layer your apple and sad cheese on the unoiled side of the bread slice. Put the other bread slice on top, and press the pieces together to bury your sandwich's sadness way down deep inside.
Place sandwich in a pan over medium heat and cook, flipping sandwich over a few times, until the bread is lightly browned, and the cheese has melted.
In this case, the sad sandwich adventure was topped off by the fact that the bread was way toasted before the cheese was fully melted. I ate it anyway. I was hungry.
My deepest apologies to the authors of this cookbook, the sandwich itself, and sandwiches everywhere.