Cucumber Sandwiches

Dear Ones,

Summer has come, so you must brush up on cucumber sandwiches. These dainties are among the noshes mandated for those incredibly fussy high teas you read about in rapacious Edwardian novels. Similarly, we serve cucumber sandwiches for gatherings where ostensible decorum rules; social luncheons, a patio cocktail hour, and of course the inevitable funeral. Note cucumber sandwiches at a kegger are the epitome of gauche.

Do not use those bloated green zeppelins from the local grocery; go to the farmers’ market and select good fresh cukes. If you can find a firm yellow one, cherish it’s sweetness. Partially peel fruit, refrigerate for an hour, and drain well before use.

Trim bread–no crusts, please–and cut to size. Top with a spread of cream cheese and mayonnaise 3:1, lime or lemon juice, white pepper, and salt. Top with cucumber and cool.

How to Make a Tomato Sandwich

Here in the Mid-South, we make three popular summer sandwiches with raw vegetables.

One is the cucumber sandwich, served on pretty little trays aside ewers of lemonade, iced tea, or gin and tonics on tables topped with linen adorned with silver, eaten by ladies smelling of lavender sachet and gentlemen of a certain persuasion in pastel seersucker suits. Diametrically opposite of this delicate denizen of elegant afternoon gatherings is the sweet onion sandwich, gnawed upon with audible gusto over kitchen sinks, and washed down with Miller or PBR by the likes of ATV enthusiasts and high school sports columnists.

Then we have the tomato sandwich. Egalitarian, comfortable in any company, this summer staple of Dixie is found on the table just about any time of the day. For me, a good home-grown tomato sandwich is how a summer afternoon on the front porch ought to taste. The essential components are bread, sliced tomatoes and mayonnaise. The bread soft wheat or white; for the garnish of memory, I use Wonder bread. The tomatoes should be the best your particular part of the world has to offer. The mayonnaise (Blue Plate) should be slathered on the tomatoes as well as the bread, ensuring even moistness. Season with salt and plenty of black pepper.

Adding bacon elevates the tomato sandwich from a mere concoction to poetry, but Joan Hess and I both agree that lettuce is superfluous and moreover annoying.