Gotta love a dish with the recipe in its name. But as with other similar “simple” recipe-in-the-name sandwiches—PB & J, cheesesteak—there are innumerable (and highly controversial) variations and riffs on the classic out there. Edible taps two of our favorite sandwich slicers, Kenneth Ruud, executive chef at Normanside Country Club, and Joseph Ventrice Jr., of the Shakin Bacon, for intel ... and recipes.
Gotta love a dish with the recipe in its name.
But as with other similar “simple” recipe-in-the-name sandwiches—PB & J, cheesesteak—there are innumerable (and highly controversial) variations and riffs on the classic out there. Humble home cooks and highfalutin chefs seem unable to resist the urge to gild that gold with superfluous ourishes that too often take away from the majesty of the precious original.
The BLT, thought to originate in the form of late-Victorian-era tea sandwiches, represents fusion cuisine at its best. A number of eras and geographic regions are involved (tomatoes were introduced to Europe from America in the 16th century, mayonnaise was invented in France in the 1700s, the sandwich became a thing during John Montague, 4th Earl of Sandwich’s 1762 gambling binge). And while its genealogical roots can be traced to tea sandwiches and clubs, the BLT wasn’t truly born until the mid-20th century in America; it took off in the freewheeling 1960s.
Now, of course, the BLT is a mainstay of American cuisine and can be found on any right-thinking diner, country club and sandwich joint’s menu in the nation. So how does an ambitious home cook kick the BLT up a notch without doing its gorgeous essence a gross disservice?
Edible taps two of our favorite sandwich slicers, Kenneth Ruud, executive chef at Normanside Country Club, and Joseph Ventrice Jr., of the Shakin Bacon, for intel. Feast on the tantalizing findings, below.
Normanside's Roasted Tomato BLT
Shakin Bacon's "Porky Pig" BLT
