Grilled Cheese Puts On an Italian Suit By AMANDA HESSER
ONE
of the wonders of cooking is that the tiniest adjustment to
what you are making, the addition of a single ingredient or
the execution of a technique, can entirely change a dish and
the visceral response you get from eating it.
Think for an instant about a ham and cheese sandwich, a
fancy ham and cheese, with prosciutto and a slice of Asiago
slipped between slices of good country bread, sprinkled with
olive oil. You could eat it and be splendidly pleased.
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But if you warmed up your waffle maker -- or newly
purchased sandwich press -- and put the sandwich inside, you
would have something altogether different. The prosciutto
would heat, the cheese would melt, and both would be compacted
between slices of toasted bread, so that when you bit into the
sandwich, it would be coarse and supple, intense and generous.
It may seem like a small change, but it distinguishes a
sandwich that has become known as a panino (panini when
plural), named after the Italian word for sandwich, which is
sometimes, but not always, pressed.
Pressed sandwiches have surfaced on the menus of Manhattan
restaurants like Craftbar and Loggia, and are at the heart of
cafes like 'ino in Greenwich Village, and, in Brooklyn, Press
195 and Panino'teca 275. At Thatbar on Smith Street in
Brooklyn, the peanut butter and jelly sandwich is made into a
panino, and even sandwiches at Sony Lincoln Square, the movie
theater, now are pressed and toasted.
A little heat and pressure have a way of elevating a
sandwich above its station, and panini are really no more
difficult to make than a regular sandwich.
At home, you can serve the sandwiches as hors d'oeuvres.
Call them panini, and no one will dare complain. Your panini
creations may also have nothing to do with the original panini
you find in Italy. But then, culinary faithfulness didn't stop
anyone with meatballs or pizza.
In case you are tested by a nervy guest, a panino is
technically nothing more than a roll, and when it is being
referred to as a preparation, it means simply a sandwich, not
necessarily a toasted one.
''It's bar food,'' said Arthur Schwartz, the radio show
host and author of ''Naples at Table'' (HarperCollins, 1998).
''It's something that when you go into the bar in the
afternoon to have a coffee or a drink as a refreshment you
grab as a snack.''
Like all things in Italy, panini vary from region to
region. In Bologna, they might come on rosettes; in Rome, on
focaccia. You might be asked if you want them toasted, or they
might be served without choice.
''Here, of course, people eat it as a meal,'' Mr. Schwartz
said. ''I guess they feel compelled to put more in it, because
they're charging more, so it's become an American sandwich on
Italian bread. Oh, I don't want to be curmudgeonly about it. I
like them.''
Jason Denton, an owner of 'ino, which makes perhaps the
best, and leanest, pressed sandwiches in the city, prefers the
skimpy Italian version. ''As far as they go, less is more,''
he said. ''The more you put into it the less you're going to
taste distinctively.''
This, I found, is true. A single basil leaf or a slice of
Black Forest ham goes a long way. Forget the heros and
grinders of your youth. The panino is a grown-up sandwich with
slim portions and dense flavor.
It is as much an integrated creation as it is a showcase of
your favorite flavors. With that in mind, I headed to the
grocery store for fresh marjoram, sheep's milk ricotta, San
Daniele prosciutto, figs, basil, tomatoes and onions.
At home, I pulled my waffle iron from the closet. The iron
has a variety of plates that you can clip into it, one of
which has long shallow ridges. This proved to be the perfect
cooking surface. The pattern is impressed into the bread
without turning it into a waffle. The waffle iron itself,
however, was flimsy, so to press the sandwich properly,
particularly with sturdier breads, I placed an iron pan on top
as it cooked. This worked just fine. (The goal is to compact
the ingredients without flattening the sandwich.)
Although the flavor of the bread is secondary to the flavor
of the filling, it is the backbone of a panino. As such, it
must have the proper texture and thickness. Many restaurant
panini are made with ciabatta or a springy, strong sandwich
bread. 'Ino, for instance, has Blue Ribbon Bakery make a
ciabatta roll for it that is slightly undercooked. The bread
is moister inside so that once toasted, it is not too dry or
crunchy. The restaurant also cuts the top crust off, so there
is a chewy bottom crust and a moist, delicate top.
Special-ordering bread seemed a little excessive. For sweet
panini, I bought brioche rolls. I was able to find ciabatta
rolls as well as a dense, moist sandwich bread, sliced
thickly. I cut the ciabatta in half and pulled out some of the
center so that there would not be too much bread, as compared
with the filling. This is something to experiment with. You
want to be sure not to compensate for the bread with more
filling. Then you would have a hero, not a panino.
Fillings are an open field, but should be limited to four
flavors. At least one of them should be a meat or a cheese,
for richness and flavor. You cannot go wrong with ham --
smoked ham, cured ham, ham rolled in rosemary and thyme -- but
firm pâtés and sliced chicken can also be good. Craftbar has
become known for its duck ham and hen-of-the-woods mushroom
panino. (I couldn't find duck ham, but I did spot some duck
pâté and made a panino of it, with freshly grated ginger.)
With cheeses, there are almost no parameters. You can use
very fresh ones like ricottas or goat cheeses, or aged
provolone or cheddar.
Ingredients like onions and tomato work as they do in any
other sandwich, as subtle notes of flavor. What you don't want
to do, though, is pile them on as you would for a regular
sandwich. You should only add tomato, for instance, for
moisture or sweetness. In a panino with Black Forest ham and a
lemon mayonnaise, I added sliced tomato and lots of lemon to
the mayonnaise to tone down the smokiness of the ham.
With prosciutto and a fresh creamy ricotta, I added a sprig
of marjoram. As it cooked, the ricotta seeped out a little on
the sides, but created a warm, creamy pocket in the middle.
The marjoram flavored the cheese so that in some bites you
tasted the herb, in some you didn't. This is fine, even
desirable. A panino should not be uniform.
For just a few panini, I did some prep work in advance,
caramelizing thick slabs of Spanish onion and sautéing mixed
mushrooms. I put a little of each on the ciabatta and paired
them first with Asiago, then mozzarella. (I preferred the
mozzarella.) I could also have swapped the cheese for
something like serrano ham.
Once a sandwich is assembled (the filling, by the way,
should be thin enough that the halves of bread still almost
touch), it helps to press down on it with your palm,
compacting it and breaking any stiff parts of the crust, so it
doesn't slide apart on the grill.
It is tempting to add some kind of fat -- oil or butter --
to the waffle iron or sandwich maker, but this is a mistake.
My first version, of prosciutto, sheep's milk ricotta and
marjoram with olive oil on the iron, turned out like a grease
bomb. Simply put the sandwich on the press and toast it.
Because there are often oils or fats in the filling, they
steam and naturally moisten the bread as it heats.
It will take four or five minutes to toast a sandwich. You
will begin to smell it when it's ready. And it will be very
difficult not to dig right in as soon as it's ready. Resist it
if you can. The interior is often like lava.
Sweet panini are a touch cute. But the results, cute or
not, were delicious. I sliced figs thickly and laid them out
on sandwich bread. I heated orange-blossom honey and added
freshly grated ginger, drizzling it over the figs. On the
other half, I spread a thick layer of goat cheese. The honey
and juices from the figs bled into the cheese in a wonderful
way.
The last one I tried was, admittedly, ridiculous. Try it
and see. I split a round brioche roll, covering one half with
dulce de leche, the other with fresh goat cheese. I pressed
the halves together lightly, placed it on the grill, and
shared it with no one.
BLACK FOREST HAM, TOMATO AND
LEMON MAYONNAISE PANINI Time: 15 minutes
1/2 cup mayonnaise
Grated zest of 1 lemon
1 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice or more as needed
8 slices country bread or Pullman sandwich bread
8 thin slices (or enough to cover four pieces of bread
thinly) imported Black Forest ham or other smoked ham
2 ripe plum tomatoes, sliced crosswise into slices 1/8-inch
thick.
1. Place mayonnaise in a small bowl and whisk in lemon
zest. Add lemon juice and taste; it should be quite lemony.
Add more juice if needed.
2. Heat a sandwich maker or ridged griddle to medium-high.
Spread lemon mayonnaise on slices of bread. Place a thin layer
of ham on four slices. Cover each with equal amounts of tomato
slices. Top with remaining slices of bread.
3. Press down on sandwiches firmly with your palm to
compact ingredients. Place in sandwich maker or on griddle
until toasted, 4 to 5 minutes. (If using a griddle, press down
on the sandwiches as they toast and turn once during cooking.)
Serve hot.
Yield: 4 servings.
PROSCIUTTO, MARJORAM AND SHEEP'S
MILK RICOTTA PANINI Time: 15 minutes
4 ciabatta rolls or 8 slices country bread
1/2 cup fresh sheep's milk ricotta or other fresh ricotta
(if using packaged, drain for an hour or so in a
cheesecloth-lined sieve)
Freshly ground black pepper
Olive oil
4 large sprigs fresh marjoram
4 thin slices prosciutto.
1. Heat a sandwich maker or ridged griddle to medium-high.
Cut rolls in half and, if necessary, pull out a little of the
bread from the center (or cut off top crust), so there will be
a more equal bread-to-filling ratio. Spread four bottom halves
with equal amounts of ricotta. Season with pepper and sprinkle
a little olive oil on top. Lay a sprig of marjoram on top
(stretched end to end so it can be tasted in each bite). Lay
prosciutto on top in folds.
2. Top sandwiches with remaining halves of rolls. Press
down firmly with your palm to compact ingredients. Place in
sandwich maker or griddle until toasted, 4 to 5 minutes. (If
using a griddle, press on sandwiches as they toast and turn
once during cooking.) Serve hot.
Yield: 4 servings.
GOAT CHEESE, FIGS AND
GINGER-HONEY PANINI Time: 15 minutes
2 tablespoons orange-blossom or clover honey
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated ginger
8 ripe figs (green or purple)
8 slices Pullman sandwich bread or country bread
1/2 cup fresh goat cheese
Sea salt.
1. Pour honey into a small pan and place over medium-low
heat. Sprinkle in ginger. Heat until honey forms bubbles
around edges, then shut off heat and let cool.
2. Heat a sandwich maker or ridged griddle to medium-high.
Cut figs lengthwise into three slices.
3. Spread four slices of bread with equal amounts of goat
cheese. Cover each with slices of fig. Drizzle with honey,
sprinkle with a little sea salt, and top with remaining slices
of bread. Press down on sandwiches firmly with your palm to
compact the ingredients. Place in sandwich maker or griddle
until toasted, 4 to 5 minutes. (If using a griddle, press
sandwiches as they toast and turn once during cooking.) Serve
hot.
Yield: 4 servings.
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