Toasted Salami Sammie

Food is fuel, plain and simple. If you and I really had to, we could theoretically eat at McDonald’s three to six times a day and live. Variety is not a requirement for a sustained existence. And once food is converted to glucose and hits the bloodstream to power your trillion little buddies, your body really has no idea how bad that McRib tasted.

So why do we crave certain tastes and demand wide varieties of food so badly? What biological advantage is there in traveling hundreds of miles into the ocean, yanking a fish out, relieving it of its roe, and putting it on a cracker? What’s wrong with the roots and berries in our own backyards? And most importantly, what does this have to do with toasted salami sammies?

Well, I’ll tell you what. It’s a literary device known as “contrast.” See, most people crave interesting tastes, vast varieties of food, and caviar. I, on the other hand, am not most people. I have a very limited palate and don’t mind eating the same thing over and over and over. Especially when its a yummy, yummy toasted salami sammie. Read and prepare to be enlightened.

The ingredients are simple: salami, cheese, bread and a big wooden stick. It’s the quintessential sandwich. What more does one need?

I recommend rye bread. If you don’t have any (or just don’t like it) then you can always use a washcloth. That’s just my way of saying, “not using rye is not an option.”

But the true key to an extraordinarily successful sandwich lies in two marvels of modern technology: the toaster oven and the microwave. Technically, you don’t need both, but the result just isn’t the same. First, put the bread in the toaster oven. Set it on … um … “toast”. I really have no idea what I set it on, as long as all the heating elements turn orange.

Next, put the salami slices in a single layer on a paper towel and microwave on high for one minute. This is a crucial step. If you remember high school physics, you know that matter can exist in four states: “solid”, “liquid”, “gas”, and “crispy bacon.” Nuking the salami sucks all the gratuitous fats out of the salami and you’re left with pure meaty goodness. When you open the microwave, take care! All that smoke is pouring out because your microwave has been high for one minute:

Here’s a close up of the salami as it transitions between its “solid” and “crispy bacon” states:

The next step is simple assembly. Put the cheese on the salami, and the salami on the toast already in progress. Insert into toaster oven. You’ll know it’s done when the cheese bubbles, the bread browns, and people from all over your office descend upon the kitchen asking, “What’s that wonderful, wonderful smell?” This is the point where you take the aforementioned stick and beat them off with it.

This last photo shows you running down the hallway back to your office with a dozen people in hot pursuit, some of them wounded and all of them gnawingly hungry. You must not let them catch you.

Throw one half of the sammie down the hall as a diversion. As the crowd follows that one, take your remaining half and dive under your desk. Start eating! For better or worse, it’ll all be over in about a minute. Then spend the rest of the afternoon daydreaming about tomorrow’s toasted salami sammie and whether or not a taser might be in your budget.

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