Berlin Sandwich

A two-spread sandwich with almost nothing to it, which means the details carry all the weight: the cheese, the olives, and how thin you cut the bread.

• NeufchatelThe American cheese sold under this name is a soft fresh cheese, slightly leaner and moister than cream cheese, and that is what the book means -- not the bloomy-rind French Neufchâtel. Let it come to room temperature or it will tear the crumb when spread.
• Which olivesUnspecified, but green olives in brine are the sensible reading for a 1909 cheese sandwich; pimiento-stuffed work well and add colour. Drain and blot them before chopping or the mayonnaise will slacken and soak the bread.
• MayonnaiseMayonnaise at this date was usually made at home with raw yolk, though bottled brands were beginning to appear. Bottled mayonnaise is the practical substitute and is stiffer, so add it a teaspoon at a time -- the olives should just hold together, not turn into a paste.
• Butter the breadThe butter is not seasoning here; it is a moisture barrier between two wet spreads and the crumb. Soften it properly and take it to the edges, or the sandwich will be damp within the hour.
• The breadThe book does not specify; a close-grained white loaf cut thin suits it. Thick slices swamp the filling, which is the whole point of a sandwich like this one.
• Season at the endOlives and mayonnaise are both salty and the cheese is bland, so taste before adding anything. A grind of black pepper in the cheese is usually all it wants.
• Yield and servingRoughly half a cup of chopped olives and four ounces of Neufchatel should fill about six sandwiches, though the recipe gives no quantities. Trimming the crusts and cutting into fingers or triangles is a period tea-table convention rather than anything this recipe specifies; assemble no more than an hour ahead and keep them covered with a damp cloth.