Ever since I can remember, I have been in love with food. My earliest childhood memory is of raiding the cupboards for the freshly delivered yogurt from the milkman. My grandmother took great care to place the jugs out of reach on the highest cupboards possible but at the tender age of four, I had a plan. The stories of my being caught precariously balancing on teetering books, jug in hand, little palms covered in yogurt because I stuck my hand inside the jar to get it out (how else could it be done) and guilty look on my face topped of with a thick creamy yogurt mustache always bring me a smile. Good times.
I was the cause of great drama in the kitchen to the dismay of all the elders in the house, with incessant nagging about how and why. Not paying attention to me was not an option. I was this mini fireball whirling around with a thousand questions. I loved the noise, the smells, the colors and textures, the arguments the ladies would get into when there was a question about what the best way to do something was. I was right there with my opinion should they need it.
You can imagine then, how well this went off in Romania in the very early eighties with very stern Eastern European grandmothers and aunts trying to prepare for company. The occasional threats of spankings and being chased around the house with a shoe in their hand waiving furiously and mumbling something I could not quite make out due to running for it were well worth it.
As a teenager, my tastes were not so discerning (aka: I was broke) but even when I made my mac and cheese out of a box or my hamburger helper, yes, out of a box, I felt compelled to make them my own. I was adding all kinds of things to them, some good and some not so good but always experimenting with textures and flavors. I am about to let you in on a secret. Only three people in the world know this about me. One of my favorite things discovered during this frugal period was the chip sandwich. Yes, you heard right. The chip sandwich. To the horror of the one person who has actually witnessed my creation (the other two know only through legend), and to be frank, to mine because I cannot believe my first dish shared will be a chip sandwich for goodness sake but here we are, I would bite ravenously into what I consider to be the snack of all snacks.
Now, you have to be brave to try this. You will battle food snobbery, face disbelieving friends, deal with grimacing faces and shouts of are you nuts! and how could you eat that! but if you can get past these things, you will discover one of life’s very guilty pleasures.
The original, in all its plastic 60’s style glory, was composed of the whitest sugary Wonder Bread (yup, here I am with Wonder Bread in my blog) so soft that if you pinched it, it would be thin as paper and super salty and crispy regular lays chips. Step one, separate your bread slices. Step two, place a mountain of chips on top of one slice. Step three, place your other slice on top of the pile, squish down hard and voila! I tell you the soft texture and sweetness of the “bread” against the crunchy crispiness and saltiness of the chips …perfection. When I was feeling fancy, I would add yellow mustard. Mmmmmm …
Okay, nostalgia and shock aside, since it seems that by some cosmic joke this was meant to be the first recipe I share with you dear readers (I hope you don’t judge me and tune in for the next one) I will write here a more shall we say … delicate version of the above mentioned so you can have high class snack with your beer. I am going to test the recipe tonight on two unsuspecting dinner guests and let you know how that went. Steadfast food snobs or complete culinary converts … stay tuned…
Originally Published 10.27.10
