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Toasted Almond Sandwich
Toast almonds to a light brown and grate; form into a paste with a little lemon juice, add a little salt, spread on thin slices of lightly buttered white bread and cover with another slice and cut in strips.
A four-line filling that depends almost entirely on how far you take the almonds in the pan. The whole character of it is toast and lemon, so both need attention.
- Toasting the almondsThe recipe does not say how, and either a dry pan over moderate heat or a moderate oven will do; as a modern equivalent, a sheet at about 350F for 8-12 minutes, shaken once, reaches the "light brown" wanted. Take them out while they are still pale gold in the centre; residual heat carries them further, and scorched almonds turn the paste bitter.
- Grate, do not grindGrating on a rotary nut mill or the fine side of a box grater gives a dry, fluffy meal. A food processor will pulse them to the same texture in a few short bursts, but run it too long and the oil breaks out and you have almond butter, which spreads differently and swamps the lemon.
- "A little lemon juice"The recipe gives no quantity; a teaspoon per half cup of grated almonds, added drop by drop, is a safe starting point. You want a paste that just holds together when pressed, not a wet one, or the bread will go soft within the hour.
- SaltA pinch of fine salt, unless the almonds were salted already. This is the seasoning that keeps the sandwich from tasting like dessert.
- The breadThin slices of a close-crumbed white sandwich loaf, buttered right to the edges. The butter is structural here, sealing the crumb against the lemon juice, so do not skip it even though the quantity is described as light.
- Cutting in stripsThe recipe asks only for strips; trimming the crusts first is optional, then cut each sandwich into three or four fingers with a long thin blade, wiping it between cuts. The strip shape suggests something served at tea rather than as a substantial sandwich.
- Yield and holdingThe recipe gives no quantities; as a rough estimate, about half a cup of paste fills four sandwiches, or twelve to sixteen fingers. Make the paste ahead if you like, but assemble within an hour of serving and keep the tray under a damp cloth.
Nut sandwiches occupy their own chapter in early twentieth-century sandwich books because nuts were the fashionable answer to a specific problem: how to fill a sandwich for a ladies' luncheon or afternoon tea without meat. The lemon juice here does double duty, binding the dry meal and cutting the richness. Collections of this kind reflected a moment when the sandwich had moved from picnic food to the centre of a formal light meal, and cooks wanted variety by the hundred rather than by the dozen.