my last meal was a 12 foot long sandwich

mike's mega sandwich sunday, format updates, and a heart of prosciutto

“we are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” - kurt vonegut

happy spring to all my blossoming flower readers! i hope you faired well in the dark months because i did not! winter seems to slip away into blandness—the colors slowly desaturate, life starts tasting a little under salted—but suddenly, the first silly little daffodil sprouts it’s silly little trumpet and you look down to realize you’ve been eating boiled oatmeal with no toppings since new years. ah, spring and all.

i’ve been getting requests for a more frequent newsletter, so as an update eat with your ears is splitting into three email formats starting in april:

1. stay cookin’ - stories (and recipes) that made me a better cook—and might make you one as well. this is the short or medium core of every newsletter

2. last meal - if you were to die tomorrow, what would you eat? the recommendations i could have died happily after eating

3. leftovers - every fridge has something mysterious fermenting in the back— every blog does too.

i recently hosted mikes mega sandwich sunday and have been working through leftovers for weeks. if you’re not familiar with the mega sandwich concept—something’s wrong. it’s simple. a sandwich is a container. a platform. two slices of bread create space for a world of meat, greens, sauces, fruits. it’s a cornucopia. it’s a medium of its on through which the cook may express truths beyond the plate. a good cook can put anything between two slices of bread and a great cook can put everything between two slices of bread—and i mean everything.

mike’s mega sandwich sunday stretched across the entire sandwich spectrum suspended between slices of a single 12 foot long italian loaf. (actually 5 loaves from grand daisy color matched). we did put everything between that bread—all our meat, all our love, and maybe little of our blood. but hey, slice 5 lbs of iceburg shrettuce and sometimes a knuckle’s must take one for the team.

when guests entered the door, greeted by the heavy heel of the monster, terror crept in. this was a feast of the breaded beast. beginning with steak au poivre in cracked pepper cream sauce softened only by a lace tablescape and blooming protea flower (s/o olivia, resident florist), the mega wich gave way to a mortadella-mustard topped with arugula and banana peppers. around foot five came the chicane—the false corner engineered to fold an extra 12” of sandwich on the table. here laid the fan favorite—spicy soppreseta with homemade calabrian chili mayo, garlic confit, and shrettuce stacked to the ceiling. the critics—molly and ting, whom i assume were at a loss for words—uttered “spicy, spicy, oh so spicy. mayo.” and “*moaning* whatever this spicy thing is—this slaps”. i feared this section would end mega sandwich sunday since the last time i ate an italian sub i was working at the farmers market. my honey guy javi saw my eyelids crushed under the gravity of the turkey-salami combo asked me if i needed to nap in his van after we saw me swaying at my stall, unable to keep my eyelids open under the weight of the turkey.

the mega sandwich cooled off around foot 10 with caprese with fresh mozz from il palo deli—italian institution—drowned in olive oil (partanna brand, duh). my personal favorite came at the very end: a crunchy, grainy, veggiewich heavy with cucumbers, sprouts, and a sour burrata called stracchino. no, no one likes this type of hippie wich and yes, yes i a closeted californian. a toddler would say this is a sandwich for a horse because horses eat hay—but I say hey! it’s perfect.

mike’s mega sandwich sunday was eye opening. truly sunday is the best night for a home cooked gathering in new york city. the anxious potentiality of friday has passed, saturday’s sloppiness has peaked and crashed into the day of rest. on sunday, the city is still and so too are the mind of it’s patrons—satisfied and slightly hungover from another weekend of irreverent revelry. living in such a stimulating place requires a strong filter to live amongst such noise. it’s terrifying to take it all in so we shut it out. for brief moments however, in great comfort and company, we can see it all with eyes wide—the beauty and terror.

i saw the look of terror in the eyes of my dinner guest as they confronted mike’s mega sandwich sunday. could we do it? could we face a feast on such a sunday? as wine clanged empty new friends became old ones and old friends remembered forgotten ones—my neighbor billy wandered in and realized my best friend was his middle school classmate. crazy. mike’s mega sandwich sunday captured the overwhelming absurdity and serendipity of new york city for an evening—all in the comfort of my home. we never finished the mega sandwich and thus the sandwich was big enough. big enough for all this lovin. our friend ship is a foot long.

although we sent everyone home with a prepacked monday lunch, i’m still working through leftovers as i write this. a plate of giardiniera proves the perfect writer’s snack: italian pickled cauliflower with onion and olives brightened with fresh oregano.

i wish my table was long enough to invite you to— surely the sandwich was. hopefully this a pickle will transport you to the city between two loaves.

last meal: [chicken shoyu ramen] - chicken and fish broth for clear soup with hand made noodles, soy-cured egg, and ginger to top. been working on this recipe for a year and it finally as clean as a cup of tea. see you next winter @ my ramen shop!!!

last restaurant [ugly baby - thai panang curry] - a thai spot complete with neon interior, a menu ending with “fist entail soup”, and the spiciest, most developed curry i have tasted in my entire life. be careful with the jungle curry though, my neighbor dripped his sweat onto me.

last cup of tea [mare gyokuro - kettl tea] - japanese tea growers painstakingly shade tea plants to prevent amino acids from maturing into tannins. the result is an umami rich tea—a tea that tastes more like a buttery broth than a leaf liquid—the wagyu beef of teas! this tea cradled me better than any chicken noodle soup ever could.

last movie [adaptation - charlie kaufman / spike jonze] - nick cage stars and co-stars as his twin brother in a movie about writers block. the movie is about a neurotic writer struggling to adapt a book about orchids into a screenplay—it’s meta, it’s poignant, and if that doesn’t do it for you: it ends with sex, drugs, and a shootout!

last art [heart of meat - eny lee parker] - a ceramicist with an eye for organic, noguchi-esque forms and lighting hosted a valentines day party. she formed a clay heart to hang prosciutto from. it’s surrealist, it’s silly, it’s… not very sexy.

last song [beautiful blue sky - ought] - if i suddenly woke up in the suburbs at age 50, and had to stand on the sidelines of my 10 year old son’s soccer game in the rain—this is what it would feel like. this post-punk song feels like the monotony of a never-ending winter breaking free with the first stupid-ass daffodil’s dorky-ass bloom. i’m angry and i’m happy—so what?

last album [kelela - raven] - r&b star returns from hiatus and taps techno’s best black producers to craft a hard hitting yet contemplative and cryptic masterpiece. sza’s new album can’t compete.

last dj mix [maara - hue & saturation] - a trippy boat cruise down the canadian riviera from one of montreal’s many rising djs. it's chuggy enough for work and disco enough for cleaning and sexy enough for… cooking!

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have surreal ideas for the next mega sandwich affair? ? want more heady leftovers?

don’t be shy and reply— eatwithyourears@substack.com