Sandwich aux Légumes
Vegetable sandwich; various vegetables.
Vegetable sandwich; various vegetables.
Grilled vegetable sandwich; zucchini, eggplant, peppers with olive oil.
Sandwich with grattons (crispy pork scratchings); Lyonnaise specialty.
Crispy pork grattons on bread; Lyon bar snack.
Seafood sandwich; crab, shrimp, or fish.
Escargots de Bourgogne, plate ritual and all, pressed into one handheld object: warm snails and garlic-parsley butter soaked into split bread instead of mopped up on the side.
Shrimp sandwich; often with cocktail sauce.
Grey shrimp sandwich; tiny, flavorful shrimp.
Mushroom sandwich; sautéed or raw.
Eggplant sandwich; grilled or fried.
The traiteur-case sandwich runs on jarred, marinated artichoke hearts, not fresh ones, plus the split French habit of eating the same vegetable two different ways.
A salt-cured anchovy fillet against buttered crusted bread: barely a build, mostly a decision about what can survive a fish this concentrated, cured on the Roussillon coast for centuries.
The Massif Central larder in a loaf: firm tangy Cantal and peppered mountain charcuterie, both built to keep through winter, on a crust sturdy enough to push back. Cellar food carried up the puys.
The sandwich autoroute is defined by its point of sale: a wrapped, chilled baguette or pain de mie from a French motorway aire, built to survive hours in a cold cabinet.
Tuna sandwich; canned tuna with mayonnaise.
The pink-and-white baton never met a crab: surimi is pollock paste flavored and dyed to fake one, folded with mayonnaise into a cheap baguette. France eats almost half Europe's surimi sticks.
The sandwich au seigle is named for its bread, not its filling: dense, sour pain de seigle and firm butter under smoked salmon or strong cured meat, the rye of the French oyster platter.
The four-component picnic sandwich, nothing in it needing refrigeration. A length of baguette, a cylinder of dry-cured pork, a knife, and the bench you sit on when the walk runs out.
The three large-format Lyonnais pork sausages, rosette and Jesus and the brioche-cooked saucisson cuit, sliced thick onto a 1993-decree baguette de tradition at the bouchon counter.
Saint-Nectaire on baguette: an Auvergne washed-rind disc aged on rye straw, its earthy, granite-mineral paste from herds grazed on the Monts-Dore volcanic soils.
Roquefort arrives at the bread already loud, and the sandwich is an exercise in giving it room without taking the whole loaf: crumbled for sharp pockets, or forked with butter to an even coat.