Archives for category: bread, pizza, and sandwiches

There’s a place to forage mushrooms near Oakland–lots of places I’m sure, but only one I’ve been to several times. Once–the first time!–we left with a huge cache of chanterelles; twice with nothing; and always with a crop of poison oak that lingers for over a week and a half. The spot is not welcoming to foragers, but so far, so good, no tickets.

chantie+leeks

I can’t imagine how much that first cache would have would cost at the store.

sack of mushrooms

Saute the leeks first but don’t cook the mushrooms. Use a tiny bit of cheese or daiya (which is really only tasty when used sparingly). I’ve become lazy and I buy pizza dough at the store. Hottest oven possible, preheat the baking sheet.

crispy edgesteakettle photobomb

Leek and Mushroom Pizza
makes one pizza, enough for two people and a little leftover

one lump of pizza dough (get it at the store, or do this, which makes two lumps)
3 T olive oil
2 C sliced washed leeks
1/2 lb. assorted mushrooms
1/4 C daiya or mozzarella cheese
salt and pepper

If you’re using store-bought dough, take it out of the bag and place it on a floured cutting board. Let it come to room temperature before trying to manhandle it. I use a rolling pin, and let it rest for 10 minutes whenever it seems like it doesn’t want to get any bigger. Turn, flip, and dust the dough with flour regularly.

Put your pizza pan in the oven and preheat to 500.

Heat 2 T of the oil in a frypan over medium-high heat. Saute the leeks for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until they are soft and some of them are brown and a little burny.

Slice and tear the mushrooms into bite-sized pieces.

Take the pizza pan out of the oven. Put the dough on it (I fold the dough into quarters to make it easy to move, then unfold and stretch it on the pan). Brush the remaining 1 T olive oil over the dough, concentrating on the crust. Sprinkle the leeks over the dough, then the raw mushrooms and cheese. Bake for 8-12 minutes–check on it at 8, and remove from the oven when the crusts are golden brown.

Susan, the newer employee at Amber Waves, shared this recipe with me. It’s chewy, slightly sweet, practically fat free, and as Sue promised, absolutely delicious.

sliced

Old-Fashioned Date Nut Bread

1 C cut-up dates (I use Medjool, that’s what we sell, and they make a world of difference. One 1/2 lb. pkg is all you need, with a few left over!)
1 t baking soda
1 C hot water (I boil it)

1 egg (use a flax or chia egg if you’re vegan)
2/3 C sugar
1 t vanilla
1/2 t salt
1 T melted butter or oil
1 3/4 C flour (I used organic white to stay traditional, but I’m going for half whole wheat next time)
1/2 C chopped walnuts

Set oven to 350 degrees.

Place chopped dates in a bowl, sprinkle baking soda over, add hot water, stir a little, and let sit while you gather the rest of the ingredients.

Beat egg and sugar, butter, vanilla and salt. Add flour alternately with date mixture, adding nuts in last flour addition. I do this in two steps, flour-date, flour-nuts-date.

Bake in an oiled loaf pan 50-60 minutes until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool 10 minutes in the pan, then cool to room temperature on a rack – makes slicing easier.

Great with cream cheese, but wonderful just toasted a bit all by itself.

(Teacups are from Fortnum & Mason, Piccadilly, London, where I vacationed with my cousin Beth in September. I didn’t buy any.)teacups for fun


Everyone’s telling me to batter these shishito peppers and do a tempura. Or just fry them in a skillet and eat plain with salt.

I think this is a better option. If you drizzle olive oil over the bruschetta before serving, it feels like you’re in a restaurant.

Shishito Pepper Bruschetta
makes 6 little appetizers

6 slices of bread from a nice crusty country white loaf
1 avocado, roughly mashed
15 or so shishito peppers
olive oil, salt, and pepper
aleppo or marash pepper for sprinkling

Toast the bread. I like to drizzle it with olive oil on a sheetpan, broil a minute or two, then lower the heat to 450 until the bread is crisp.

In a non-stick pan over medium-high heat, fry the whole shishito peppers in a little olive oil until they’ve got brown spots on all their sides. They’ll continue cooking after you remove them from the heat, so just aim for the brown, burnished spots and you’ll be fine. Remove them from the pan, salt them, let them cool a little, then slice.

Spread the toasts with a relatively thin layer of avocado. I say “thin” because I would usually aim for 1/2″ of avocado here, but that’s too much. You want just enough for the peppers to stick to, roughly equal amounts avocado and shishito. Season with salt and pepper.

Pile some peppers onto each slice. These are mild, so don’t be afraid. Use them all. Then drizzle with olive oil, and dust with a little smokey aleppo or marash pepper. Serve immediately.

The CSA boxes come from Davis and end up three blocks from me in Oakland, up a hill whose very top is graced by highway 580. The boxes are in the back of the driveway, under an old carport, and they share the space with abandoned kids’ toys and loose Trader Joe’s paper bags. Tick your name off the list, take your stash. The waxed cardboard box gets strapped to my bike rack and it’s almost as tall as the seat, which means I can feel it bouncing under me as we bomb down the three blocks back to my apartment.

Lots of tomatoes these days. Lots of tomato breakfast sandwiches.

My mom used to make these with cheese instead of sausage. They will burn your mouth.


Open-faced Breakfast Sandwiches with Cashew Sausage
serves 2

2 English muffins
one small tomato, sliced
2 slices sweet or red onion
1/3 to 1/2 C sausage (recipe below)
olive oil, salt, and pepper

Preheat the oven to 450. Toast the English muffins. Spread each half with about 1 1/2 T sausage mixture. Top each with a slice or two of tomato, and some onion filigree. Transfer the muffins to a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil, drizzle with olive oil, and season with salt and pepper.

Bake for 5 minutes, then turn on the broiler for 1 minute. Serve immediately; when they’re hot you’ll need a fork and knife, but then you can use your hands.

Cashew-tempeh Sausage
inspired by Julia
looks time-consuming, but it’s not
makes about 1 C

4 oz. tempeh, cubed
1/2 C raw cashew pieces
1 T sausage seasoning
1/4 t table salt
1 T olive oil
1 C water

Sausage seasoning:

2 t red pepper flakes
1/2 t ground black pepper
4 t ground sage
1/2 t ground nutmeg
1 t dried thyme
4 t fennel seeds
1 t garlic powder

Make the sausage seasoning; you’ll only need a tablespoon now but you’ll enjoy having it on hand! Make tempeh gravy with it.

In a food processor, pulse the tempeh, cashews, seasoning, and salt together until the mix is crumbly. (Of course you can chop these by hand and stir in the seasoning.) Heat the oil in a non-stick pan over medium-high heat and saute the sausage for 8 or so minutes, until it begins to get toasty and darker brown. Add the water and simmer until most of the water is evaporated–you want the mix to be spreadable so don’t let all the water escape! Transfer to a bowl, and spread away.

Recently Justine and I have been talking about how much we miss good Chinese-American food. Authentic Chinese food is easy to find in LA. I don’t live there anymore, but maybe it’s easy to find in the Bay Area as well. It’s much harder to find a decent egg roll, the kind with pretty thick skin and lots of cabbage inside, that you spread all the hot mustard on.

Now that I’ve parted ways with meat, some of Chinese-American food dreams have faded. I would love to find a pan-fried, doughy dumpling stuffed with gingery, scallion-studded seitan–but considering that I never found its porky cousin on the West Coast, I’m not holding out.

On summer breaks from college, waitressing and hostessing at the pizza place and being the produce girl at Amber Waves, I would go out with my coworkers after dinner service to the Peking Palace, where we would blow our tips on fried appetizers and flaming scorpion bowls with little reservoirs of highly flammable Bacardi 151. Scallion pancakes didn’t come with the old school Polynesian Pu-Pu platter, nor did we get them on the rare occasion we ate out when I was a kid. But I liked to order them anyhow–savory fried dough is never out of place.

This recipe is a pretty standard one across the internet, but I added black rice to the filling for some visual interest and a little grainy, nutty flavor. The cakes are labor intensive and fatty, and there’s no way around it. If you use coconut oil you’re at least getting some good fats in there, in addition to all the gooey white flour. No apologies. I ate these with a simple bok choy and soft tofu stir fry. They’re a nice accompaniment to miso soup too, if you want to get pan-asian. They fry up just like you remember.

Scallion Pancakes
makes four pancakes
adapted from Ming Tsai

1/4 C black rice
2 C AP flour, plus more for dusting
1 C boiling water
1/4 t table salt
1/2 t ground black pepper
1 T toasted sesame oil
3/4 C sliced scallions
1/4 C sesame seeds
coconut oil

ginger dipping sauce

Bring a few cups of black rice to a boil in a small saucepan. Add the black rice, return to a simmer, and cook according to package directions. Drain and set aside (this makes rice with very separable grains–perfect for this application).

In a food processor, blend together the flour, salt and pepper (you can also do all this in a big bowl). With the machine running, add the boiling water in a stream until a dough ball forms. Turn out the dough into an oiled bowl, cover with a tea towel, and let it sit for 30 minutes.

Sprinkle your work surface (I use my biggest cutting board) with lots of flour. Dump the dough out and flip it around in the flour so all sides are nice and dusty. At this point keep dusting with flour as needed to prevent the dough from sticking to your work surface. Roll the dough out roughly into a thin rectangle (or rough oblong shape…it really doesn’t matter.) Brush the dough with the sesame oil, then sprinkle with the scallions. Roll up like a jelly roll and cut into two equal pieces. Set aside one of them.

Roll out the other piece, using more flour as necessary, into a smaller rectangle (again–looks do not matter here, just roll that dough out). Sprinkle with 3 tablespoons of cooked black rice. Press the rice into the dough and roll up like a jelly roll again. Cut that piece in half. Repeat this process with the other half of the dough. Now you have four pieces of dough, and they all have scallions and rice in them.

To recap: you started with one piece of dough. You rolled it out, added sesame oil and scallions, and jelly rolled. Then you cut the roll in two. Then with each of those two pieces, you rolled out, sprinkled black rice, rolled up, and cut in two. Now you have four pieces.

Take one piece and get it floured all over and on both ends. Stand it on one end and push down to form the beginning of a pancake. Using your hands and the rolling pin as necessary, make it into a 6″ pancake.

Preheat your oven to 200 and throw in a sheet pan with a cooling rack on it.

Heat 1 T coconut oil in a non-stick skillet over medium-high heat. I used a baby frypan just the size of the pancakes and it worked great. Spread out the sesame seeds on a plate and press the pancake into the seeds, on both sides, so that some seeds are sticking to the cake. Fry in oil, 3-5 minutes per side, checking frequently and flipping with tongs when the bottom is a nice golden color. When it’s perfectly golden on both sides, introduce it to the warm oven. Add another teaspoon or two of coconut oil, and repeat with the next pancake. Keep going until all the pancakes are crispy and ready to eat.

Cut each pancake into four, and serve with the ginger dipping sauce.

Driving way too far to buy a two-dollar sandwich is one of the only things I miss about eating meat. I would often stock up, buy extras for friends, and eat mine on the return drive. My seat was routinely dusted in baguette crumbs. (This was my favorite place; the website is shockingly nice considering that the place is smaller than my living room and located in a strip mall.)

HOWEVER. I have discovered the perfect non-meat (seitan) and preparation method (marinating and high-heat stir fry), and once you fix up all the bahn mi fixings, you can make these sandwiches ad nauseum (for me, that usually happens when I run out of bread). This recipe is cobbled together–the seitan is from post-punk kitchen, the bahn mi assembly from an enthusiast’s website. I’m offering the marinade.

I also have some tips.

-Slice your bread down the middle, leaving one bread edge intact (see the photo below). Wrap it in foil, put in in a 350 oven for 5 minutes, then assemble the sandwich.
-Don’t use too much of any filling. A two-dollar sandwich doesn’t have much of anything in it, and at home it’s easy to pack the thing too full.
-Be especially careful with the jalapenos. I always think I’ll want one with every bite, and really I just want one every five bites.
-Sear the seitan over really blistering heat. Open the windows, turn on your fans, etc.

If you’re scared of seitan, I have a couple ideas for you. First–buy it at the store instead of making it yourself. If you like it, then you can start boiling your own hunks of gluten brain. Second–in my experience it is the favorite non-meat of omnivores. So if you haven’t tried it before, and you’re a meat-fan, you will probably enjoy it a lot.

Vegetarian Bahn Mi with Stir-fried Seitan

one batch seitan

2 t grated ginger
2 t dark soy sauce
2 t sugar
1 t toasted sesame oil
3 T canola or other mild oil, divided

baguette
pickled daikon and carrots
sliced cucumber
sliced jalapeno
cilantro sprigs
mayo/veganaise
sriracha

Make your seitan, or buy some. (I use the PPK recipe, but since I’m lazy I used 1 t garlic powder instead of fresh, and halve the cooking liquids.)

Slice it very thinly. In a large bowl, mix together the ginger, dark soy, sugar, sesame oil, and 1 T of the canola. Squeeze dry the sliced seitan and dump it in the bowl. Stir to coat, and marinate for at least an hour, up to a day.

Heat a large skillet or wok over high heat for five minutes. Add the remaining 2 T canola oil and swirl the pan to coat it. Add the seitan in a single layer and let it sit without touching it for 2-3 minutes. Then stir, and let it sit again for 2 minutes. Once more, and you’re done. You’re aiming for crispy, caramelized slices.

Now, go to this website, look at the pictures, and assemble the sandwiches according to your desire. AGAIN: go easy on the jalaps.

So, fine, parsley scallion hummus is an idea I stole from the Whole Foods salad bar.

You know what else is really good at Whole Foods? The arugula, corn, and red onion salad. And the rare, exotic slippers.

I kid, WF! I kid because I am deeply ambivalent about you.

Oh well, this hummus is awesome. There is so much herbage in here that it tastes abnormally fresh, and it is a super pleasant hue of green. I want to recommend that you eat it not just with pita chips, but on an openfaced hummus bagel, which is my new favorite breakfast. You toast a bagel, spread each half with at least 2 T of hummus, and top each with a slice and a half of tomato, four slices of cucumber, and a few slivers of red onion (I dig precision). Plus some salt and pepper.

What a fine breakfast! Or lunch; I had it yesterday. You have to hold those cukes in place as you shove the thing in your mouth but the awkwardness is worth it.

If you’re accustomed to buying canned chickpeas, I encourage you to try cooking your own. It’s satisfying and cheap as all getout. I’ve used my mom’s quick-cook instructions in the recipe; this reduces the soaking time from overnight to just over an hour. That means you can make beans anytime you have a spare couple hours. I realize that I am speaking from a position of luxury. I don’t work 9-5. But even if you do, you can boil beans from scratch.

Parsley Scallion Hummus
makes 3 C

1 C dried chickpeas
4-5 scallions, sliced thinly
2.5 C parsley leaves (this was about one bunch for me)
2 T tahini
2 T lemon juice
1/4 t cumin seeds
1 1/2 t kosher salt
olive oil

In a small saucepan, cover the dried chickpeas with cold water. Bring to a boil, cover, and turn off the heat. In an hour, make sure the beans are still covered with water (add more if you need to), bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until the beans are soft (about 50-60 minutes). Set aside.

In a food processor, finely chop the scallions. Then add the parsley and grind grind grind. Add the chickpeas, tahini, lemon juice, cumin, and salt and process until the chickpeas are all ground up and have formed a ball. Then, with the processor on, start drizzling in olive oil. You’re going to keep drizzling until the chickpea ball becomes hummus. You can stop at any time, taste it, and see if the hummus is moist enough for your taste yet. This will require a good amount of olive oil! I’m guessing at least 1/3 C. If this freaks out you, you can reserve 1/4 C of the chickpea cooking water and use that when you’ve hit your oil wall. But I enjoy a good fat.

Check for seasonings, and add more lemon or salt as needed. Serve at room temperature.

Grilled pizza is a sort of miracle in my family, one that only comes into being when we’re all home together. In part this is because grilling pizza is a multi-person activity–it’s least stressful when you have one person to deal with the fire and two to assemble the pizza quickly once you slap the dough on the grill. In part it’s also because I think (I think…) my parents lack faith in the ability of pizza dough to resist the lure of the flames–when we first made it there were a number of questions along the lines of “well wait…isn’t the dough going to flop through the grates?”

It doesn’t flop, as it turns out. But I find you do need to assemble the pizza after you’ve put the dough on the grill, unless you’re really super handy with a pizza peel and can get the whole thing to disembark without losing its toppings. The vagaries of grilling all apply–your crust may be a bit burnt in places, and you might want to stash the finished pizzas in the oven for a while to finish cooking. But you’re not my father’s daughter if you don’t like a little burnt crust, and a little trial and error around the fire.

I’m pretty fond of this combination because it’s one of the few vehicles for chard that I don’t find distasteful (this is probably because there’s a grand total of one chard leaf per serving). The quick pickled shallots cut through the cheesiness very well–sometimes white pizzas can get a little too unctuous and the pickled bits keep this pizza real. Burnt crust for all.

Grilled Pizza with Chard, Chevre, and Pickled Shallots
serves 2-3

1/2 recipe pizza dough, patted out into pizza shape and ready to go (recipe and technique here)
1 small shallot, sliced very thin
apple cider vinegar
8-12 chard leaves
1/3 C crumbled chevre
2/3 C grated mozzarella
salt and pepper and olive oil

Put the sliced shallot in a small bowl and cover with apple cider vinegar. Stir every once in a while and let sit for 30 minutes. The shallot will turn a pretty pink. Preheat your indoor oven to 325.

Meanwhile, fire up your grill. My dad’s the grillmaster so I don’t know the particular techniques, but if you’re working with charcoal you want glowing coals, not flames, in an area roughly the size of your pizza. If you have a gas grill, medium heat all the way. (Perhaps my father can be cajoled into leaving a comment with fire-related advice…)

Assemble a little mise en place. All the toppings should be ready at hand and easy to scatter. Drain the shallots, give them a very quick rinse, and add them to your platter.

Now, put the pizza dough on a well-floured peel or flat sheetpan (or the bottom side of a sheetpan with sides). Take the lid off the grill and slide the dough onto the area with the coals.

Here it helps to have two people. First, one of you applies the chard–a double layer of leaves is perfect because they wilt down considerably. Next, the other sprinkles on the pickled shallots. Then you each apply a cheese. Don’t worry about perfection. You’re not dominoes; you’re rogue pizza grillers! Finally, one of you drizzles the whole project with some extra virgin olive oil while the other finishes with a fine dusting of salt and fresh pepper. Your dad/guardian/resident pyromaniac then slaps the lid back on the grill.

Check the pizza in 4 minutes, and using your pizza peel or flat sheetpan, try to rotate the pizza a little. Put the lid back on. At this point my guidance will only be so helpful–it’s time to start checking the crust every minute or two (a big spatula is helpful for looking at its underbelly). In a really hot brick oven pizzas take 6-8 minutes. That’s a good number to keep in mind. Remove the pizza from the grill when the crust is done; even if the toppings don’t look quite as wilted or melty as you like you can finish them in your indoor oven. Slide the pizza into the preheated oven and let it hang out there for another 5 minutes, or until it looks delicious.

Remove the pizza to a cooling rack, cut it up, and serve.

These rolls are like subtle donuts.

A sticky orange glaze on a barely sweet knot of dough–the perfect treat for breakfast, or afternoon snack.

Glenn thinks they taste like breakfast in Italy, but I suspect the recipe is severely American. The original is scrawled on an index card I got from my aunt Ann’s recipe box–one of her grandmother’s specialties. And when I told my mom I was making them, she said HER grandmother had a recipe for orange rolls if I didn’t like this one. Orange rolls from all the great-grandfolk.

During the raid of Ann’s recipe box, we were talking about the appearance of shortening in recipes of a certain vintage–I always assumed shortening meant Crisco, but it apparently indicates any sort of fat–butter, margarine, lard. And we were discussing what an odd word that was for fat–shortening–and the number of baked goods that have “short” in them–short bread, short cake, short crust. And you know what? SHORT is an archaic word for “crumbly”–specifically, made crumbly by the addition of fat! I love it. This is like the perfect storm for me–archaic English and baked goods.

Glazed Orange Rolls
makes 16 big rolls

1 C whole milk
1/2 C shortening (I used half butter and half Smart Balance because it’s what my fridge had on offer)
1/2 C honey
1 t salt
2 packets yeast
1/4 C warm water
2 eggs
1/4 C orange juice
2 T orange zest
5 C white whole wheat flour, plus more for kneading (yes, go buy a sack of the King Arthur stuff)

Glaze:
1/4 C orange juice
2 t orange zest
2 C powdered sugar
2 pinches of salt

Scald the milk (the microwave is your friend) and in a large bowl whisk it into the shortening (in pieces), the honey, and the salt. In a small bowl, whisk together the yeast and the warm water. Add the yeast paste to the big bowl along with the eggs, OJ, and zest. Beat well. Add the flour and mix to a soft dough with a wooden spoon–it will be quite soft and don’t fret. Cover with a towel, and let the dough stand until it’s doubled in size.

Flour your kneading surface generously, and knead the dough for around 5 minutes, adding more flour as the dough gets sticky. Grease the large bowl and put the dough ball back in there. Cover with the towel, and let stand until it’s doubled in size (the recipe card says two hours; mine took under an hour because my apartment is HOT). Punch down the dough (the best part) and then let it stand for another 15 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 400. Re-flour your surface and dump out the dough. You want to roll the dough into a rectangle, 10″x16″. It will be pliable at this point so you may not even need a rolling pin–I didn’t. I just pressed it out into a rectangle. Cut into 16 strips, 1 inch wide and 10 inches long. Knot each strip. This is not the big deal I expected. Ugly is fine–they’ll look good when they bake. And if you want them to look pretty, make one leg of the knot longer than the other, and tuck it around the roll once you’ve formed the knot.

Bake on parchment paper for 12 minutes at 400, and let the rolls cool on a rack. Whisk together the glaze ingredients. When the rolls are cool, dip the tops in the glaze and let the syrup run down the sides as it sets. You’ll have extra glaze just in case you like to have a little pool of it with your roll.

The best part? The recipe card ends with this instruction: “Brush icing on with pastry brush for an even glo.”

My grandfather (my mom’s dad) used to make these sandwiches, but it took me a while to reconstruct what might have gone into them because they had become sort of mythic in my head. Some sort of spiced meat product–I looked at Spanish chorizo in the market for about 5 minutes before deciding it wasn’t right. Lettuce–right, lettuce? crunchy? But definitely onions–my grandfather taught me to like onions on hamburgers and I remember bits of them falling out of these sandwiches when he made them.

These are definitely falling apart sandwiches, with bits of meat the size of your thumb-tip plopping out whenever you move the plate (these bits of meat are great with a potato chip). I initially thought that was a design flaw, but it’s how my grandfather made the sandwich too so I’m fine with it. After deciding linguica was my meat, I had to find it. In New England this is no big deal. Your computer is probably resting on a case of linguica right now. But in LA our spiced meat products are mostly Mexican, or Salvodoran, and I was worried I wouldn’t find it out here. Chowhound to the rescue–they sell some at Ralph’s (or at least the one at Cloverfield and Olympic, if you want to pick some up–the brand is Silva OF COURSE). Here, look at this wikipedia entry on linguica. Southeastern MA has made the big times!

For the sake of experimentation I used watercress instead of a crunchier lettuce product. You could use romaine, or iceberg, if you crave a little more snap. But basically, once you’ve found the linguica, caramelized it, and rendered some of its bright orange fat, you’re home free.

Linguica Tortas
makes 2 big sandwiches

6-7 oz. smoked linguica (fully cooked)
2 sandwich rolls (I used ciabatta–kaiser would be fine)
2 slices sweet onion
1 small bunch watercress
1 T olive oil
1 t balsamic vinegar
1/4 t kosher salt
freshly ground pepper

About the bread–if the idea of a self-destructing sandwich sends you into a cleaning frenzy, you might try one of those more oblong hoagie rolls and slice it 3/4 of the way through. That way the sandwich innards have fewer means of escape. Also, seek out a sweet onion instead of a more pungent yellow one.

Heat a large skillet over high heat and brush or spray it with olive oil (you don’t need much because the linguica will render its fat soon). Cut the linguica in half the long way, and then cut each of these halves in half again the long way. Now you have four long skinny linguicas. Slice them into 1 cm pieces. Add them to the skillet and made sure each piece is getting some attention from the pan. Toss the linguica around every 2 minutes for 8-10 minutes, turning the heat down to medium after you see a little caramelization (about 2 minutes).

Meanwhile, slice your rolls in half and warm them for a few minutes in a 350 oven. Whisk together the olive oil, vinegar, salt and pepper. Using a pastry brush or spoon, apply the vinaigrette to the inside of each roll.

Now for assembly. You’re going to make the sandwiches, wrap them up, and then press them for 10 minutes. So get some plastic wrap in place before you start. Evenly divide the linguica between the two sandwiches, spooning it onto the bread. Then the onion rings, as many as you like. Finally, a handful of watercress, molded into submission and held in place while the top piece of bread is slapped over it. (Note that this is not how I did it in the picture–I learned from my mistakes.) Gingerly transport the whole thing to the waiting sheet of plastic wrap and swaddle it tightly. Once it’s wrapped, press it down with your palm (don’t be afraid), and then stack a couple plates on top of the sandwich for good measure. Repeat with the second sandwich. Now these are ready for transport, or you can open them up, slice, and serve.