Church of the Cold Cut: a Mortadella Tale

There are days when you don’t need transcendence—you need mortadella.
Sliced so thin it flutters, folded like silk, slipped into a fluffy hunk of bread with a slather of mayo, a squirt of mustard, and a coverlet of melted cheese. No commentary. Just reverence.

Here’s the episode in which Anthony meets his new love. (Just the first minute and eleven seconds or so will do. You’ll see.)

🔥 What We’re Eating This Week

This week was full of things like exploding water heaters and 111-degree heat, which meant I needed something easy, comforting, and decidedly not oven-based. So, the famous mortadella sandwich from Appetites (p. 26) made its return. Not that I had to twist the ghost’s arm. I’m pretty sure it’s his whisper in my ear that keeps this in weekly rotation at my house—usually for lunch, and usually with something tart on the side, like green grapes. Sometimes, I even make it with cold meat and cheese.

📖 How It Started

It began when I first got my hands on Appetites. I already knew the sandwich was Anthony Bourdain’s favorite. I just didn’t know how damn delicious it is.

If you have fond memories of fried bologna sandwiches as a kid, this is that—
but grown up, glowed up, and with better cheese.

🧀 Mortadella Logistics (Yes, That’s a Thing)

Not every market carries mortadella. Walmart? Nope. (At least not here.) But the local store with a proper deli counter and a soft spot for gourmet imports? Yes, ma’am. “How much do you want and how thinly sliced?”

It lives in the cheese drawer, waiting for the call. Provolone is ideal, but if I’m out, white American is a totally acceptable understudy. Swiss? Too structured, not melty enough. Cheddar? Don’t even think about it.

🍞 Bread Matters

The ghost likes buns. Big, plush ones. I mean, who doesn’t? Think Kaiser rolls or a light sourdough. I’ve even used soft white sandwich bread in a pinch (shoutout to Grandma Sycamore), but steer clear of anything too crusty or the meat and cheese will slip right out the back like a delinquent dinner guest.

🔥 How to Make It

Here’s how it goes:

1. Heat a pan or griddle.

2. Fold the mortadella slices into soft stacks.

3. Let them caramelize, crisping up around the edges.

4. Flip. Lay your cheese on top. Let it melt into submission.

5. Assemble. Eat.

🍅 A Sacred Side: Tomato Salad

Because I was serving sandwiches for dinner, I figured I should add something green—or at least red and acidic. It’s tomato season here, so I turned to the Tomato Salad from Appetites (p. 94).

It’s barely a recipe, which is exactly the point.

Heirloom tomatoes, cut into wedges. (If it’s the size of your head, one is enough.)
Shallots. Garlic. Parsley. Basil. Red wine vinegar. Olive oil. And a little sherry vinegar (my current obsession). Salt and pepper.

Slice. Julienne. Pour. Mix. Eat.

The salad cuts right through the fat and richness of the sandwich.

⚖️ Portion Notes (Because… Damn)

The original recipe calls for a half pound of mortadella per sandwich, but…I simply cannot.

This week, I used about a quarter pound per person, and that felt just right. The ghost still wants his thicker. These days, he’s not gaining any weight or watching his cholesterol, so he gets what he wants.

🍻 What to Drink

Serve it all with a cold beer. If you’re going booze-free, Athletic Brewing Company is making some excellent stuff. I’m partial to the Golden and the Mexican-style Copper. Otherwise, choose your favorite and raise a glass.

🌀 What’s Next?

We’re still in the fallout zone from the water heater debacle, so thinking too hard about next week feels a little premature. But I did just acquire several boxes of high protein sourdough spaghetti. Sounds weird. And promising.

Maybe it’s time for some noodles.

Until next Friday:
Eat something real. Cook something imperfect. Let a ghost or two join you.

In reverence and rebellion,
Michelle Davis