introducing myself by sandwich-proxy, piggy-backing (maybe too ambitiously?) on the perfection of one of the world’s great triple-deckers: the turkey club.
Why a sandwich? Because the sandwich is the workhorse of the food world, a versatile character-actor in a cast of foie gras scene-stealers. Why the turkey club? Because for all its Brando-esque On the Water Front brawn, it aspires to be more than a sandwich, reaching skyward with an extra layer of bacon, turkey, and unapologetically rich mayo. It’s the sandwich that dares to dream.
To be honest, I was only introduced to my sandwich spirit guide a few years ago (ridiculously late for a responsible adult, I know). But it was a day I’ll never forget. And that owes in part to the setting: a railcar diner in upstate New York that felt like it was plucked out of a movie, complete with a waitress leaning dangerously far over the counter, sucking a lollipop and eyeing us with lazy suspicion.
Variations abound (see the accompanying recipe), but ever since that day, I understood what it meant to have a simple thing done really, really well. Whether it’s a wonton with delicately thin skin and flecks of fruity red chili oil, or a blueberry grown to perfection in the wilds of Jersey (believe it), or the towering, tooth-picked composition in protein, carbohydrate, and fat otherwise known as the turkey club, that’s what good food’s all about. Simplicity and integrity—and repeated consumption. And I hope to share that here, though I won’t actually share the sandwich here, at Snooth Eats.
Turkey Club Sandwich Recipe