The Dagwood
Ninety percent of the people planning a Super Bowl party this weekend will take the easy road and make use of the many prepackaged foods prominently on display at the supermarket.
The health benefits of a day based entirely on sitting on your butt and consuming beer, wings, chips and salsa is highly questionable, to say the least, but it’s one of life’s little ironies that an event focusing on a form of extreme physical activity would encourage slothfulness mixed with binge eating and drinking.
The remaining 10 percent of the public are looking for a little more excitement, such as a theme around which to center their party. The obvious choice would be a theme based on the cuisines, or styles of cooking, that are native to the hometowns of the football combatants.
In this contest, Indianapolis loses big time. You don’t believe me? Go ahead, name the first food that comes to mind when I say Indiana. I rest my case.
New Orleans, on the other hand, conjures up a veritable cornucopia of culinary possibilities. In fact, Louisiana is probably the home of the most vibrant native cuisine of any of the 50 states.
So, whether or not you’re a Saints fan, you really have no choice in the matter. For this Super Bowl, the obvious call is to put out a buffet of Cajun and Creole food and let the football game be decided not at the dinner table, but on the field, where it belongs.
The good news is that many of Louisiana’s most famous dishes are specifically designed for parties. That is, they can be prepared well in advance, refrigerated for days and then reheated at your convenience.
The most obvious choices are the thick soup known as gumbo, spicy stews such as Shrimp Creole and the rice dish known as Jambalaya. Toss in a slice of sweet potato or pecan pie, and you have a meal made in heaven.
I’ve printed recipes for some of the above-named dishes in past columns. I would also refer you to the works of Justin Wilson, Paul Prudhomme and Emeril Lagasse, notably Prudhomme’s landmark 1984 book “Louisiana Kitchen.”
The only downside is that New Orleans food takes time and a lot of space to prep. If that prospect worries you, consider resurrecting an old American culinary treat by making Super Bowl Sunday a night for Dagwood sandwiches.
Dagwoods were named after the lead character in the long-running comic strip “Blondie.” First drawn in 1930 by Chic Young, it tells the day-to-day story of Blondie Bumstead and her bumbling, but well-intentioned, husband, Dagwood.
Dagwood, with his tufted hair and Rudy Vallee looks, has a soft spot for his family, loves long naps on the couch and constantly gets into trouble with his boss, Mr. Dithers. But he’s perhaps best known as the inventor of the world’s most outrageous sandwich.
You see, when it comes to cooking, Dagwood is a disaster. This started back before women’s liberation, when the kitchen was exclusively the mother’s domain and most media husbands had difficulty boiling water.
So, if Blondie is out of the house and Dagwood feels like having a snack, his only option is to throw together a sandwich from a mixture of cold cuts and cheeses. But he doesn’t throw together as much as he constructs, combining an artist’s flair with an architect’s genius to assemble multilayered, edible towers.
Dagwoods are notable for being insanely tall, with slices of bread interspersed at irregular intervals with every possible type of sliced meat, cheese and vegetable. Instead of sitting on the side of the plate, garnishes such as pickles, pepperoni, jalapenos, roasted peppers, pickled artichokes and other deli items are inserted directly into the mix.
While mustard and mayonnaise are the usual slathers, there are those who’ll use this as an opportunity to create their own special sandwich sauce. Try seasoning your mayo with dabs of horseradish, some tomato paste, a spoonful of sweet pickle relish or shots of hot sauce.
To create your own Dagwood party, just lay out platters with as many different breads, cold cuts, sliced cheeses, lettuces and condiments you can get your hands on. Then ring the dinner bell and stand back.
Make the night even more fun by having a contest. See who can create the most outlandish sandwich.
The beauty of a Dagwood is that not only is every sandwich unique, but with each bite, you get to taste something different. That’s why there really is no recipe for Dagwoods, only suggestions. The only absolute rule is that there are no rules.
THE DAGWOOD
12 slices sandwich bread
5 tablespoons mayonnaise
4 tablespoons mustard
10 leaves lettuce
6 ounces sliced dill pickles
5 ounces sliced ham
5 ounces sliced turkey breast
5 ounces sliced roast beef
5 ounces sliced genoa salami
6 slices provolone cheese
6 slices swiss cheese
6 slices beefsteak tomato
4 slices red onion
2 8 to 10-inch bamboo skewers
4 black olives, pitted
4 green olives, pitted
Lay 10 slices of bread on the counter. Spread modest amounts of the mayonnaise and mustard on each slice. Top each with a piece of lettuce and a couple of pickles. Begin to randomly arrange the various meats and cheeses on top of the slices of bread. The emphasis is on random. You may wish to roll up some, but not all, of the slices of meat for a bulkier look. Finish with the tomato and red onion.
Carefully combine the bread into two tall stacks of five, and top each stack with one of the remaining slices of bread. Use a bamboo skewer stuck through the middle to hold each sandwich together. Garnish the sandwich with olives stuck on the exposed end of the skewer. Serves just two, believe it or not.
Marc Bouchard, of Hudson, is executive chef at Stellina Restaurant in Watertown, Mass. Address comments or questions to him c/o Feast, The Telegraph, 17 Executive Drive, Hudson, NH 03051.
