Admit It, Not Every Sandwich Needs Cheese.
A couple of years ago I saw a video of a British sandwich artist named Max Halley refusing to put cheese on any of his sandwiches. “No,” I muttered as I closed the tab and got on with my life. “I do not do that”.
But two years later, I’m ready to do it. While I question—no, reject—Chef Halley’s practice of making his sandwiches with focaccia (the worst sandwich bread ever), he has a point about cheese. Cheese is too often the default sandwich ingredient, and it doesn’t always have to be there.
Cheese provides two things: fat and flavor, and a waxy piece of soft cheddar from the grocery store isn’t the best source of either, especially if you already have fatty, flavorful ingredients. Cheese can add salt, umami, and, in the case of peppered cheeses, spiciness, but there are many unleavened cheeses, and their presence can make your sandwich worse. Too much fat will dull other flavors and textures, resulting in a sandwich that looks dull and unbalanced.
A barbecue pork sandwich, for example, doesn’t need cheese; the cheese would only distract and dull those smoky, rich flavors that had been developing in the smokehouse for hours. A veggie avocado or hummus sandwich doesn’t need a slice of cream cheese; fancy feta can create a nice contrast, but something like havarti will saturate your palate with fat. Putting cheese on a tomato sandwich — or BLT, for that matter — would be a big crime. (Summer tomatoes shouldn’t be forced to hide their light under a bushel of cheese.)
I’m not asking you to give up cheese completely. Many great sandwiches have cheese—cheesesteak, melted tuna, bologna and american, club and the like. I’m asking you to consider eating cheese on purpose, not for any “health” reason – I’m not counting calories – but for taste.
Still not convinced? Let me tell you a little story.
I will never forget that Christmas when I broke my little finger on the Razor scooter. Santa brought two of them—one for each of my twin sisters—and my dad and I decided to race in the church lot. I ate shit, broke my finger and hit my head, and spent the rest of Christmas in the emergency room at Emory, Mississippi. The next day, while I was convalescing on the four-poster bed in my grandmother’s guest room, my dad brought me a ham sandwich made with the Christmas ham I had missed the night before.
It was a simple sandwich of lightly toasted white bread, chopped ham, mayonnaise, and finely chopped homemade pickles. — No cheese? I thought, looking at the sandwich, but then I took a bite. It was one of the best ham sandwiches I have ever had. The ham was salty, the mayonnaise was creamy, the cucumbers were sweet and sour — it was a perfectly balanced piece, and the cheese would have ruined it.
I’ll never accept Chef Halley’s “No cheese in any sandwich” point of view, but I do think a lot of people could be a little more thoughtful with their sandwich cheese. A good sandwich is all about balance, and cheese can tip the scales if you’re not careful.