In Pursuit of the Perfect Sandwich

Can you remember that time that you had the perfect sandwich?

It could have been purposefully ordered with anticipation at a fancy rooftop restaurant in Paris or stumbled on at a truck stop during a road trip through the middle of Texas.

The point is, once tasted, the sandwich must be tasted again.

For me, that sandwich was first tasted years ago while I was studying abroad in the Tuscan town of Siena, Italy. Once I discovered the sandwich at the deli next to my school, I went back every day. Every. Day.

I ate this sandwich so much that, biting into the fresh (but firm) bread day after day, I actually broke the fake front teeth I earned after a fateful childhood bike accident.

The best Tuscan sandwich

The story about visiting an Italian dentist is an epic one, but it’s a story for another day.

This story is about a sandwich. A sandwich that I didn’t even care that I could literally feel my teeth loosening as I feasted on that fresh-baked ciabatta, piled high with turkey and slathered with sun-dried tomatoes and homemade pesto.

Becoming a local

I even learned how to order the sandwich in halting Italian. One of the proudest moments from my three months in Siena is the time that the young daughter of the deli owner leaned over the counter and pointed beyond the lunchtime smash of people (there is no such thing as queuing in Italy) to point at me where I stood in the back of the store.

“Il tipico?” she hollered to me.

 “Sì,” I yelled back with awe. Had I just cut the line like an actual local?

I had, indeed, and that sandwich tasted all that much better for it. Anyone who has been elbowed out of the way at an Italian produce counter by a local nonna can appreciate that story.

You see where this is going, right?

Fifteen years later, I went back for that sandwich.

I didn’t know if the store would still be there, or if I would be able to find it in the twists and turns of Siena’s alleys. But I was sure going to try.

A Siena Street, Medieval city in Tuscany.
You can get lost in Sienna’s twists and turns for days (and never want to be found!)

I didn’t make this trek alone, though. I brought my mom.

My mom in Siena, Italy
My mom is a badass travel companion (who will be mad at me for writing badass)

She knew that she was going to Siena so that I could walk down memory lane, but I waited until she had a healthy dose of her morning coffee before I proposed a day of searching for a sandwich.

I have the best mom in the world, though, because she just grabbed her bag and said, “let’s go!”  

My mom with a coffee in Siena, Italy
Let’s go!

Lucky for me because, in the end, this search would take us all over Siena and back to where we started. Literally.

Searching for a Sandwich

I didn’t remember much about the exterior of the sandwich shop. There was a red awning, maybe? Some writing on the awning, perhaps?

I did know it that it was very close to the school I attended. I also remembered that my school was somewhat close to the epic hill that my roommates and I walked up every day from our little Tuscan villa just outside Siena’s medieval walls.

Siena street
My mom walking through the decorated streets of Siena in dedicated pursuit of a sandwich

My mom and I wandered through Siena, marveling at the decorations of the 17 contrades (neighborhoods) whose colorful flags line nearly every street. The contrade don’t mess around about their neighborhood loyalties or their rivalries.

Contrade celebration in Siena
Just another day in Siena

They still march in full, colorful regalia through Siena’s alleyways, especially the 11 streets that all lead toward the centerpiece of town – the famed medieval square called Piazza del Campo.

Piazza del Campo
View from our balcony one morning in Siena. The early-morning drums may just be why we needed so much coffee!

It is here where, twice a year, the square is turned into a racetrack and appointed jockeys from the contrades race each other on horseback around the square amidst a weeklong festival filled with pageantry.

Today the square remains the central meeting point in Siena, just as it was in medieval times when the nine ruling families laid out the town and the nine lines of the piazza, and just as it was when my classmates and I rolled our empty bottles of wine down the slow slope of the plaza to join in a heap with the empty bottles of the locals.

Piazza del Campo
Piazza del Campo at night

But back to that sandwich

Nearing the end of our day of wandering, I suddenly stopped short at the top of a set of stairs that led to a very familiar hill.

“This is it!” I exclaimed.

Hill leading out of the medieval gate of Siena, Italy.
This is the hill we walked up every day…barefoot…in snow…

It was the hill – the hill – that my roommates and I trooped up each day to get to school. That meant that the school – and the sandwich – had to be close. From the middle of the hill, I started upward and my memory took over. It was a hard right at the chain link fence and then two alleyways down and…YES!

Siena, Italy
This is where I studied 15 years ago.

There was my school.

My mom and I laughed as we realized that my old school was just steps from where we had started our adventure that morning after fueling up on caffeine. From there, it didn’t take me long to retrace the steps to the sandwich shop.

We laughed even harder as we realized that the daylong search from the time of our morning coffee to deli discovery meant that the store was closed for the evening.  

In pursuit of the perfect Tuscan sandwich.
Open…open…open…

Undaunted, I returned early the next day, waiting impatiently through morning deliveries for the counter to open before my mom and I took off on a wine tour through Tuscany. I wasn’t leaving without that sandwich!

When I finally walked into that shop, everything looked the same. And, though it had been 15 years, I even recognized the woman behind the counter as the same kind soul who had considered me a local all those years before.

Deli counter in Siena, Italy
We looked a little different, but the store looked just the same.

She remembered me, too. It was the sundried tomatoes that gave me away. We smiled over our shared memories as she rang me up, my mouth watering.

Deli counter in Siena, Italy.

I sat right down and dug in.

The best sandwich in Tuscany.
Don’t. Judge. Me.

It was everything that I remembered and so much more.

When an Island Goes Dark

I didn’t plan it, exactly, but I am somehow following New Year’s celebrations around the globe. I joined old friends in Florida to ring in 2019 over champagne and laughter in January; lunched with new friends in Chiang Dao to celebrate the Chinese New Year over long noodles and warm red wine on the first…

Continue Reading When an Island Goes Dark

Join the Seeker Community

    We respect your privacy. Unsubscribe at anytime.
    Powered By ConvertKit

    2 Comments on “In Pursuit of the Perfect Sandwich”

      • I will check it out! I take all book recommendations seriously, but especially one coming from a writer. Thank you!

    Leave a Reply

    Your email address will not be published.

    This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.