This evening I made Italian Open-Face Sandwiches while L had the conversational equivalent of smashing his head off a brick wall with the tiler. I am getting a cold and am just miserable with the world, and we are both stupidly stressed over finances and everything else. So this entry will be short so I can go and get some sleep and hopefully get out the right side of bed in the morning.
These sandwiches should be very straightforward; toast thick slices of semolina bread, spread with the white sauce of the last two days (now made by “eyeballing it”, without measuring quantities, I never thought I’d see the day), add the prosciutto and the sliced artichoke hearts and top with fontina cheese. Grill until the cheese melts. Only when we were trying to work out why there was a delightful smell of burnt plastic coming from the broiler did I realise I’d forgotten to put the prosciutto on the sandwich. L did a quick repair job, moving the cheese, inserting the ham, and squishing the cheese back on top. He then went on to remove the four hot plastic “remove and discard before use” pieces stuck to the inside of the oven door. Oops.
The sandwiches were served with the salad of the last two days, substituting basil for the tarragon in the salad. The whole meal was ok, but nothing very exciting. Maybe some tomato would have helped, or some chili flakes or something; the sandwich fell on the bland side. And in all honesty, the white sauce was a little grim in this context, although that could be because we have now had it three days in a row. By which I mean that we are getting a little sick of it, rather than we made one batch and it’s going off… fresh every day, I assure you.
Tomorrow, we move back into familiar fare with Wild Cream of Mushroom Egg Noodle Bake, Hold the Canned Soup, followed by two variations on the theme. To be cynical, the recipe looks as if you may as well use the canned soup, rather than recreate the soup from scratch, but we stand by, preparing to be wowed.