The Airplane Sandwich

As soon as the drink cart starts trundling down the aisle, with great anticipation, I unwrap my “airplane sandwich.”  It is a chunk of organic baguette that I have drizzled with olive oil and homemade wine vinegar; topped with baby celery chopped with its leaves, dressed with olive oil, lemon juice and shaved Parmesan; creamy hardboiled eggs from our farm; some canned white tuna, drained, then tossed with olive oil and lemon juice; and is finished with a sprinkling of fleur de sel, cayenne and fresh pepper.  Every time the airplane sandwich is different and this may be the best one yet.

I hear the domestic airlines are charging for food now--they’ve done us a favor.  Who needs it?  You can make an “airplane sandwich” with whatever vegetables are in season and it holds up well even if they confiscate your cool pack.  At the end of the trip, you don’t feel greasy, unsatisfied or unsettled.  You feel healthy from having eaten great vegetables.

I started making these sandwiches after I moved to Japan.  On trips back to the U.S., I never liked the airline food (who does?).  After my first son was born, I realized bringing my own food was the only option if I wanted to stay one step ahead of the inevitable “travel cold” brought on by sleep deprivation and lowered resistance.  Traveling with one baby is exhausting; I ended up traveling with three.  And the food I brought with us kept me going. 

My mother-in-law, like many older Japanese farmwomen, has a bent back so it was hard for her to hold babies.  But she is an expert at making country sushi:  inarizushi and inakazush--a traditional meal prepared for special days.  I enlisted her help in making our lunches for the plane.  She was ecstatic to be useful to her stubbornly independent foreign “bride” (me), and whipped up several boxes each time we went.  Enough for about eight people, but we did our best to finish.  (I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was too much.)  Inarizushi is made from deep-fried tofu skins that are halved, simmered in soy sauce and sweet saké for flavor; then stuffed with sushi rice.  They are silky slightly sweet pillows that slip down quite nicely.  Inakazushi is a thick country sushi roll made with soy sauce simmered carrots and gobo, egg, sweet gourd strands, crunchy jelly fish, and a little pickled ginger.  The inakazushi is rolled up in roasted seaweed and cut into fat rounds.  You eat both inarizushi and inakazushi with your hands—no need for soy sauce—but a hot towel is recommended for wiping fingers.  Clean tasting, and slightly sweet for a needed energy boost, these two country styles of sushi are typically made ahead of time, to me eaten later in the day.  They are excellent choices for travel lunches—or bentos—as we say in Japan.

The airplane sandwiches are constantly evolving, a reflection of the seasons and my mood, but the country sushi remains firmly rooted in the Hachisu family recipe.  When the mantle passes, I’ll probably add boiled and squeezed greens for variation.  We now had two great options for our travel lunch, but something was missing.  Then a couple of years ago, another lunch made its way into our lineup.  My youngest son, Matthew (at the time, 10), sidled up to me one day when I was cooking.  “Mommy?” (in his typically high voice, rising accent on the last syllable)  “How about…I’m just saying…what do you think…how about tacos?”  Tacos.  In the middle of making dinner, I was not really focusing on what he was asking.  Finally he blurted out his proposition.  Matthew had decided that tacos would be just the thing to bring on our impending trip to France.  “There’s the meat…and they’re a little bit hot, so that’s good…and the lettuce…dontchya think it's a good idea?”  I thought about it and yes, I did.  So tacos were on the menu.  These were not the Taco Bell variety, they were from Diana Kennedy’s Cuisines of Mexico:  slightly crisp fried tortillas, pork in salsa de jitomate, sliced onions & shredded lettuce (or cabbage).  I packed the tortillas separately, the meat and vegetables in Ziplocs on ice and we had a little taco making session on the airplane.  Matthew was right, it was a great idea:  the heat of the chile and the crunch of the fresh vegetables added a “zing factor”—eating tacos on the plane was exciting.

Now we all have our rituals.  Christopher (18), Andrew (14) and Matthew (12) eat grandma’s sushi in the 3-hour bus ride to Tokyo-Narita airport.  Matthew and I eat tacos at the airport, while Andrew and Christopher have a sandwich.  Matthew and Christopher dig into tacos on the plane while I am content with my Airplane Sandwich.  Andrew, not a good traveler, abstains.  None of us ever get sick and these days, I actually like traveling across the world.  Sometimes I get upgraded to Business class, but still bring my lunch.  Though I do like their wine.

Airplane Sandwich

This sandwich is a bastardized Pan Bagna.  I learned how to make it through, well, through making it.  The idea here is: “less is more.”  And keep it seasonal.

1 baguette (cut into 3 or 4 pieces horizontally, then in half vertically, top shelf olive oil and best quality red wine vinegar.  Some good quality canned tuna and cage-free, fresh eggs (using a fine mesh strainer, lower into boiling water and cook 8 minutes, drain and run cold water over until cool).  Optional: salt-cured anchovy.

A selection of seasonal items (use only if very fresh and farm grown):  fresh herbs, lettuce, arugula, sliced onions, sliced radishes, sliced cucumbers, chopped celery, green beans (parboiled 3 min), fresh snap peas (sauté-steam, al denté), favas (raw), asparagus, tomatoes (sparingly, they get soggy).

Go to the farmers’ market and look for organic vegetables or herbs.  Pick ones that are bright looking and not floppy.  Try a piece if allowed.  It should taste sweet and flavorful, not woody or flat.  Get an assortment of vegetables that feel like they might be nice together.  Pick up a dozen eggs while you’re at it.

Assemble all your ingredients: 

Eggs:  Cut boiled eggs in half vertically, the yolk’s center should be still a bit creamy, if not next time let it sit a minute less.  Scoop out eggs from shell and slice each in half again.  Set cut eggs on a small plate.  I use about 1 egg per sandwich, but it’s up to you.  Tuna:  Flake the drained tuna in a small bowl, drizzle on olive oil and lemon juice and toss with your fingers.  Anchovy:  Wash off salt, fillet and dry in dishtowel.  Toss with olive oil.  Vegetables:   If you’re using lettuce and/or arugula, toss in a bowl with some olive oil, vinegar, salt and pepper.   Celery is good chopped with olive oil, lemon juice and Parmesan.  Asparagus works well with other spring vegetables like snap peas and favas.  I like green beans alone with tuna, egg and greens.

Assemble your sandwiches: 

Lay down one large piece of heavy-duty foil per sandwich.  If you are obsessive (like me), add a sheet of cooking paper on top of the foil.  Open up the paired baguette segments and place them on the foil/parchment diagonally, with the bottom piece in front, crusts down.

Drizzle olive oil liberally on all of the bread faces, then sprinkle on red wine vinegar to taste.  Add tuna to the bottom half of the sandwich (if you are using it), sliced onions next would be nice.  Keep smashing down the ingredients as you go.  Lay on the eggs next, and keep building with the harder vegetables, carefully trying to keep things together.  Don’t forget chopped herbs for freshness.  Pile on as much lettuce or arugula that you can manage to stuff in and with great skill, close up the sandwich, all the while stuffing the ingredients back into the center.  Grab a towel and wipe your hand clean to wrap the sandwich.  Fold up the diagonal portion from the bottom, then the two sides and finally the top (open and eat like an ice cream cone when ready).  Do the same with the foil and squeeze gently, but firmly with clean hands.  Put sandwich in a large Ziploc.  Pack in a cooler bag with a cold pack, extra salt and pepper and cayenne for those who like spice.  I also bring cloth napkins and damp washcloths.  But I’m obsessive.

Comments

[susan rice-lincoln]

Thanks again Nancy. We are ALWAYS on planes...in Europe..to the States...so next flight we will try your advice. Love all your recipes.. Sue

[Rodney Fong]

It is fun to read about your assimilation into Japanese culture, especially relating it to how our culture here is in Hawaii. Hawaii is a lot like you, a bit Asian, a bit American but uniquely its own. We also are going back to the tradition of bringing our own food on planes, now that meal service is almost a thing of the past, and your experiences and expertly described rituals are similar to ours, bringing our form of inari sushi and bentos on planes. Only here our tendencies are toward spam musubi, a form of food almost equally repugnant to Japanese and mainlanders. You must try it sometime. As always, an enjoyable read.

[Brandon martin]

I think you should try making an ankimo airplane sandwich! Our how Bout California burritos!

[Elena Beyers]

Wow!!! Made me hungry with all those nice veggies and olive oil, vinegar, salt, cayenne. I might have to try one of these for our trip to Vermont this summer. Those jucky crackers, etc. really do not satisfy...

[joanne godley]

Hi Nancy,

Your delicious descriptions of the food you make are only enhanced by the beautiful photography of the food (and the children!) I have taken the liberty of sending your blog to a number of my friends. My only request is that I get an autographed copy of your book when it's published. Oh, and I want to sample some of this yummy-sounding cuisine whenever I make it to Japan!

Joanne

[Catherine Martineau]

Dear Nancy,
Like many French kids, the first time I ever ate a sandwich was on a train ride. Bought from a carriage vendor on a Montparnasse platform. Baguette, butter and jambon blanc. A staple. When slipped out of its glassine paper bag, the bread is still crunchy, but during the few hours since it's been made, flavors have combined to create the unique and unforgettable taste of travel. In the 60's of my childhood sandwiches were reserved for travel and picnics. Never eaten at lunch, never eaten at a table, let alone a desk. Many years later my mother, just like you Nancy, prepares Airplane Sandwiches to ease my kids's transatlantic journey back home: Fresh baguette and rillettes, eaten over international waters where charcuterie is still OK.