Sandwich artistry.

I am a very good cook. I just want to get that out of the way. Most of the stuff I cook, is done by instinct or memory. See, for example, my "Chicken Soup Recipe." And it's usually fantastic. People clamor for invites to my dinner parties, that I throw about as often as the queens of England surrender their thrones (once every fifty or so years). So, now that we've gotten that out of the way, I have a secret to tell you:

As much as I long to be an expert sandwich artist, like the people at Gardener's Market, I do not make sandwiches very well.

There are exceptions to that rule. I make a kick-ass grilled cheese sandwich. And I also make a very tasty Nutella, Banana, Peanutbutter and Honey sandwich.

But when it comes to like turkey sandwiches and roast beef sandwiches, try as I might to nail it, I never can do it.

Which is odd, because sandwiches are pretty simple beings, no?

I don't know what I do wrong! For example, for lunch today, I made myself a turkey sandwich on baguette with mayo, mustard, Roma tomatoes, smoked Gouda and avocado.

It sounded pretty good, and it wasn't a bad sandwich by any means but...

I didn't experience that eye-rolling orgasmic shudder that I usually get when I maow (how do you spell that? Mow? Mao? Maow?) into a Gardener's sandwich. Oh, or the one I get when I eat a turkey camembert from Le Sandwicherie with extra cornichons and vinegrette.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. nom. nom. nom. nom. nom.

There must be a cookbook out there that'll teach me how to make the sandwiches I'm so fond of - sandwiches with Wasabi mayo and muenster cheese. Camembert cheese and cornichons, and bacon and red onions with mustard...

There. I feel better now that I've admitted one of my many shortcomings to you.

Now... Come here. I've made you a ketchup, radish and Fluffernutter sandwich on an Asiago bagel. It's your favorite, right?