The Round Two
When I was a kid, the leftover Thanksgiving turkey sandwich was something I anticipated almost as much as the dinner itself. We'd eat the traditional big meal in the afternoon, become superlazy, and then around 7 or 8 I'd creep into the kitchen and plaster two slices of Wonder Bread with white meat, mayo, salt and pepper. That's it. I was a minimalist turkey sandwich builder. Others would go hot with gravy, crafting open-faced masterpieces that sound real delicious right about now. But I don't have that in front of me. I have this. It was an attempt to replicate that minimalist childhood sandwich, but it turned out to be a lesson and that lesson is this: You can't make a great leftover sandwich if you don't have all the leftovers. I didn't have Thanksgiving at my house this year, but I did swipe some turkey, stuffing, and a mom-baked loaf of country white bread. That's not enough. I need all the proper tools at my disposable. I don't want that minimal sandwich anymore; I want the works. The best I could do was smear some tangy, fruity, cranberry-esque black currant mustard on this beautiful bread and stack turkey and mozzarella cheese inside, plus that nostalgic blast of salt and pepper. It tastes fine, but it's crying out for lettuce and tomato and bacon and yes, even mayo. I fantasized about toasting thicker slices of the mom bread and squashing dark meat, gravy and stuffing inside, melting it all together with some sharp cheddar cheese. But this is all there is. Next year, I'll do it right, or I won't do it at all.