Kathi Roll
On a Kolkata pavement at rush hour it makes sense the way nothing at a table does: a flaky paratha rolled tight around skewer kebab, onion, chutney and lemon, built for one hand and a moving crowd.
On a Kolkata pavement at rush hour it makes sense the way nothing at a table does: a flaky paratha rolled tight around skewer kebab, onion, chutney and lemon, built for one hand and a moving crowd.
Soy-marinated chicken in a thin potato-starch shell, between trimmed shokupan with cabbage and mayo. Named for the maple leaves of the Tatsuta River, less craggy than karaage.
It costs a coin from a chiller that is in every konbini in Japan, open at any hour. Press a thumb to the loaf and it dents and returns; the filling comes out genuinely cold against it.
Mortadella with visible pistachio nuts; premium version.
A panino con burrata is built around a filling that wants to escape: a mozzarella pouch of cream-loosened curd that spills when cut, caught by a roll firm enough to hold it.
Peanut butter, bacon, banana, and fruit preserves on griddled bread, in two forms: the Memphis household snack and the legendary Denver Fool's Gold Loaf flown for by private jet.