In honor of the month long joyride me and Dale have been taking on the road to Rushmore, I just had to dish up some eats to go along with all the great music we’ve been poring over as we carve out some history, one note at a time. And so here’s a sandwich that I’ve attached its namesake to.
The Rushmore Sandwich:
The dream began with some fried chicken I’d made the night before. You know how some of the best sandwiches are made? Leftovers, and good ones. So the provocation became inspiration . . and then good fortune started riffing when my daughter made a delicious loaf of oat bread with sunflower seeds. Because once you have the bread, there’s no excuse not to go building something tasty.
My chicken has a first name . . .
And it’s breading, for real. Be eclectic, and really . . you can’t get more eclectic than Zapp’s Voodoo Potato Chips, ground into a fine mist and tucked across the surface. From there it was all disco.
Bread is more than just a classic rock band from LA . . .
It’s the quintessential piece of the sandwich puzzle. Without the bread, all you have is the leftovers. And that’s fine when you cook up a piece of chicken on the level of disco. But you want a side of dynamite to go with that magnificent ball? The bread . . has to bring personality. My daughter supplied with hers, as she’s been doing since she was a wee little lass. Girl has mad skills.
Come a knocking when you hear the rocking . . .
Because if you don’t have the bandmates, it’s not a sandwich for reals. So I had to create a succinct (or is that succulent? . . let’s go with both) list of talented rhymers to go along with my main event rockers. And so muenster cheese supplied me with the creamy sidekick, without hogging the spotlight. Tomato, because I love the color and the cool, very much.
How do you top this? . . .
An egg. Everything, and I do mean everything- except peanut butter ripple- tastes that much better with an egg on top. It takes a sandwich from “Damn that’s good!” to “Damn! What’s my name again!?”. It’s seriously that importante . . .
Speaking of importante, how about that crescendo? . . .
Glad I asked. It happens after you’ve toasted the bread on a pan to achieve those delightfully seductive grill marks. And then you add your chicken and cheese and tomato and finally . . that glorious egg. Now, you can cook up the egg any way you wish but for yours truly, I like to glaze the yolk without taking away that sunshiny ooze that happens when you bite in. It serves as the condiment for this party, and it’s why I show you a capture open faced. And it’s also why the avocado didn’t make it in the doors. Besides, it looks so sexy walking in on Rushmore’s arm, doesn’t it?
What more can I say, other than . . .
Frites. Hand cut by yours truly and done to a crunchy turn. There’s no substitute for DIY when it comes to this side. So take the extra time, and you’ll be happy you did.
Welp, that’s it and that’s all till next time kids. Dish up and dine well.