Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Least Vegetarian Sandwich Ever.
Yes, friends, lest there be any fear that I should slip back into my vegetarian ways (not that it wouldn't be a good idea!), I opted to make the meatiest sandwich I could imagine to anchor our sun-dappled day at Bouchaine.
To be fair, I didn't really make a true muffuletta. This mighty meaty 'wich, native to New Orleans, is traditionally made with a large, round loaf of crusty bread, a variety of cured meats and cheeses (typically capicola, salami, mortadella, emmenthaler and provolone, according to Wikipedia) and -- most importantly -- olive salad. This salad of course has olives, but also carrots, cauliflower and celery; its dressing is meant to saturate the bread.
But here's the thing: You can purchase this olive salad quite readily in the delis of New Orleans, but around these parts not so much. And as I was already in the throes of making a few other courses, I really wanted to cut a corner here. So I just combined tapenades of green and black olives with some rinsed and drained capers, and voilà.
Also, the muffs in New Orleans are jaw-breakingly tall, sometimes reaching several inches in height toward the center. In the interest of daintiness and easier portioning, I used a ciabatta, which retained an even thickness and allowed for more consistent cutting.
The resulting sandwich has a stunning display of pink-and-white strata, kind of like layers of sedimentary rock, if the earth's crust were made of meat and cheese. Which, for better or worse, it is not.
I ended up making, oh, about 20 times as much of the olive spread as I needed, so it has casually made its way into almost everything I've made since -- a dollop in salad dressing, gobs smeared under and atop the skin of a roasted chicken, a touch thrown into braising liquid. It's a remarkably versatile condiment, lending a fruity and complex flavor to everything it touches.