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While there are twelve or thirteen sandwiches in this book that Tom calls “my absolute favorite,” this one truly is Sisha’s. We use the pork shoulder, a very flavorful cut that benefits from slow cooking—so slow, in fact, that we set the oven on the lowest setting and leave the pork cooking overnight, which breaks down the textures, develops the flavors, and renders a lot of the fat. For the amount of meat called for in this recipe, you can get the same great texture and flavor in about four hours. This recipe has its origin in pork barbecue, which is often served with coleslaw. The cabbage in our sandwich—a nod to that side of slaw—is seasoned with olive oil and red wine vinegar. It is assertive and acidic, balancing the richness of the pork, while the jalapeños add a nice kick. Peppers vary in intensity—sometimes two slices are more than plenty while sometimes eight won’t be enough—so be sure to taste-test yours before layering them on.

You’ll recognize this sandwich as a Reuben—with a few adjustments. Chief among them: We believe that mustard is the perfect condiment to cut the salty, sweet richness of cured meats, so we’ve replaced the Reuben’s more prosaic Russian dressing with an easy-to-make mustard sauce. Using really good pastrami sets the tone for the entire sandwich. While the meats you typically find in a supermarket are injected with water, an artisanal product is simply cured, then smoked with real wood chips, concentrating rather than diluting the flavors. And though the product is more expensive, you’ll need far less of it. You can try this sandwich with corned beef, too, especially if you’re in the mood for a milder and less smoky experience.

This sandwich was adapted directly from a meal Tom had developed years earlier for Gramercy Tavern. We cure the duck lightly, for about 24 hours, more for flavor than to remove moisture. Then it is cooked verrrrrry slowly, with the fat side down. It is particularly important in this recipe to use a heavy-bottomed pan so that the heat distributes evenly, and to cook the duck over a super-low heat in order to render the fat without overcooking the duck. Once it’s cooked and you let it cool, you can slice it and use it in myriad ways—as an appetizer, in salad, on canapés. Note that because the duck’s been cured, its flavor is now concentrated and a little goes a long way. We pair the duck with caramelized apples and endive, which provide sweetness, acidity, and just the right edge of bitterness. Felling extra-indulgent? Save the pan in which you cooked the duck and toast the bread in the fat!

If you elect to make the sausage yourself, you need not have casings—simply make sausage patties instead. Conversely, if you’re making a recipe that calls for patties and you’re starting with sausages that are already in their casings, what’s to stop you from simply ripping them open and removing the contents? We think you’ll be delighted with the results of grilling the fennel and then pickling it lightly. And while we generally encourage substituting ingredients to your own taste, consider sticking with the recommended arugula here. It adds just the right tenor of spice to this sandwich.

This recipe is one of our biggest sellers but, interestingly, each customer cites a different reason the sandwich is special. One says that she could eat the onion marmalade with a spoon for breakfast daily. Others can’t say enough about the bacon. Tom applauds Sisha’s decision to cut the turkey thicker, thus showcasing its moistness. This is an ensemble piece, with no clear headliner. While we use ciabatta, this sandwich would work as well on country bread, too.

We devised this sandwich partly to challenge ourselves. Usually prepared in advance of its use in a sandwich, chicken loses moisture by the time it arrives there. So we looked for a way to keep the chicken moist . . . and we found it. By slowly and gently poaching the chicken, and then storing it in the poaching liquid until it’s used, we lock in the moisture. (Use this trick whenever you’re preparing chicken for a picnic or for use in a salad—the chicken will be moist and delicious, and without oil, to boot. Further, you can use the poaching broth for soup simply by adding more water, some vegetables, and some of the chicken.) We serve this as a pressed sandwich, but it also works well served cold.

This dish was inspired by one from Sisha’s native Chile: a fried fish with a traditional tomato and onion salad. In Chile, the onion is not a condiment in the salad but, rather, an ingredient in its own right. So as not to be overpowered by so much raw onion, we “shock” the onion first; this blunts the thrust of the onion without sacrificing its texture. The sparkling water in the batter lends a tempura-like quality. And since the traditional Chilean green chile is unavailable here, we use serrano chiles—smaller and about five times hotter than jalapeños, but thin-walled and easy to use.

The drying of meats and fish is the oldest method of preservation. Salt cod (cod that has been both salted and dried) has been around for 500 to 1,000 years, since European fishing fleets discovered the rich cod supplies of the north Atlantic. The result was widespread use of salted cod, as in baccalà (Italian), bacalhau (Portuguese), klippfisk (Scandinavian), morue (French), and saltfiskur (Icelandic). Why go through the lengthy process of desalting a fish that you could buy fresh? Flavor, for starters; if cod were fresh ham, salt cod would be its prosciutto. And texture; salt cod is supple and chewier than fresh cod. A rare treat to eat, salt cod also happens to hold up well in a sandwich. We’ve opted for the traditional pairing of salt cod with roasted red peppers, whose sweetness is a natural fit with the cod.

We developed this recipe for this cookbook and promptly vowed to place it on the menu in the coming fall. Loosely based on pumpkin ravioli, it is the sandwich equivalent of comfort food.

This is a straightforward version of the classic sandwich—with a few improvements. We opt for good-quality tuna, we use celery root instead of celery, and we roast the tomatoes to extract the most flavor. Since this is a warm sandwich, the roasted tomato actually holds up better than would its raw counterpart. We think you’ll agree that the addition of the fresh oregano brings out the flavor of the cheese.

What makes this sandwich particularly special is the chile oil, and for this we must give credit where it is due. Many years ago, Sisha worked with a talented chef named Neil Swidler. An Arizona native later working in New Orleans, Neil made this strikingly beautiful and fiery oil and shared the recipe with Sisha, who will be forever grateful. This sandwich, our homage to a New Orleans classic, is our way of saying thanks. The chiles, by the way, can be found in Whole Foods and specialty markets, as well as in Mexican bodegas everywhere.

This sandwich was developed through our Fresh Air Fund Internship Program by three industrious and talented teens. See page 106 for the story behind the sandwich.

This sandwich was a real crowd-pleaser when it was on the ’wichcraft menu, popular with adults and kids alike. Why? Probably because it tastes like pizza! We prepare it as a pressed sandwich, but it also works beautifully grilled in a pan with a little olive oil, or if you don’t want to add any fat, heat it open-faced in the oven until the cheeses melt. The mozzarella is milky and gooey, with a great mouth feel, and the provolone adds personality. Roasting tomatoes concentrates their flavor and caramelizes their sugars; it’s a great way of getting the best of a tomato when it’s not at the height of the season. When herbs are a primary ingredient, only fresh will do. But when they are used as a seasoning, as in this sandwich, dried work very well. One way to ensure you have high-quality dried herbs is to dry them yourself. Take a bunch of fresh oregano, tie it up at the stem end, and hang it upside down to dry, outside if possible, but wherever there is plenty of air circulation. When the herbs are thoroughly dry and the leaves fall off the stems at the touch, crumble the leaves, store them in a jar, and use them as long as the flavor remains strong and pleasing, about 2 months.

While we use a delicious aged Cheddar, this sandwich will be a success with other cheeses, too, as long as they have a big presence, such as a sharp Gouda (no subtle fontinas or mozzarellas); because the cheese is the star of the sandwich, it needs to stand up to the other flavors. Use just enough smoked ham to balance the cheese and poached pear. Use a very thin layer of mustard on the bread, right next to the cheese. The bread in this instance should be something nutty and fruity. The tartness of the dried cranberries in our bread is a great addition to the sandwich, so if you don’t have them in your bread, you could add them to the poaching liquid when you prepare the pears.

This is one of Tom’s favorites, one that showcases how a sandwich can be adapted from a meal. The meal here is French onion soup. Whereas in the soup the onion is the star, with the crouton and cheese to support it, in the sandwich we flip that: the onions serve as the relish. We roast the onions very slowly, caramelizing them, until dark golden brown to balance the assertive and pungent Gruyère. With the rye bread to hint at the Alsatian origin of the soup, we end with something rustic and homey, and yet something that, unlike soup, can be enjoyed while walking down the street.

This delicate little indulgence makes a marvelous treat; cut up into little squares, it’s perfect party fare. We were already considering creating a grilled cheese sandwich with fontina when one of our purveyors came to us with the white truffle fondue. Unlike many truffle oil products, this fondue is made with real truffles. We tried it . . . and loved it. It is the ideal complement to the mellow flavor of fontina and the fresh Pullman bread. We wanted to add some sautéed mushrooms, and chose the black trumpets for their low moisture content and springy texture. If you find them fresh—which can be difficult, even in season—rinse them well to get rid of all the grit.

Here’s one for a party: Roast a large piece of beef and feed a big crowd. If your gathering is in the backyard, toss the onions in the marinade and grill them until they’re a little bit charred. But if you are cooking the onions indoors, roast them in a cast-iron skillet until they start to caramelize. The radish slaw—a mix of daikon and red radishes with a little bit of horseradish (a traditional condiment for roast beef)—contributes crunchy, spicy coolness. The mayo, though, is the genius of the sandwich. When you order a roast beef sandwich at a restaurant, you always hope it will come au jus—everyone loves to dip into those delicious flavors. Well, as ’wichcraft sandwiches are often eaten on the go, we let the beef rest after we roast it and then use the drippings in the mayo. You get the flavor of the dip without the drip (although, admittedly, this is still a three- or four-napkin sandwich).

This American classic is available at deli counters year-round, but at ’wichcraft, it’s a seasonal sandwich served only when local tomatoes are at their peak. For us, this is a tomato sandwich, with crisp bacon (be sure it’s good quality!) and Bibb lettuce serving almost as condiments. We use a thick slice of tomato, say 1/2 inch, well seasoned with sea salt, really good pepper, and even a little olive oil. This is one of the sandwiches for which architecture matters, so please pay attention to the assembly instructions. For a special kick, rub a peeled garlic clove over the bread before assembling. A mix of heirloom tomatoes is ideal, combining colors and tones, sweetness and acidity. Imagine a slice of red plum, a slice of green zebra, and a slice of German yellow: summer in a sandwich.

Please do not let the bad bologna sandwiches of your youth deter you from trying this sandwich. Good mortadella is silky, flavorful, and because it doesn’t require aging, usually far more affordable than most artisanal sandwich meats. Here, we balance the smooth texture and rich taste of mortadella with the bitterness of grilled radicchio. The Pistachio Vinaigrette (page 181) is a nod to the classic use of pistachios embedded in the meat.

In steak sandwiches, the meat is usually paired with onions, cheese, or similarly rich flavors. We wanted something lighter and brighter, something, say, that a person might opt for at lunchtime without needing to nap afterwards. And so we use fresh ginger (which we julienne like a vegetable rather than shred, mince, grate, or sprinkle as a spice) and cucumber, both very refreshing. While Black Chile Mayonnaise (page 177) does add a touch of richness, this is still a very light red meat sandwich.