A Trip Down Memory Lane: The Mighty Muffuletta
Part of what I love about being a food writer and home chef is the ability to not only make incredible food, but to recreate the food that sparks some of our greatest memories. Case in point: Let me tell you a story about my dad.
My dad was never around much when I was growing up. That’s no fault of his: Entering my life when I was 9 years old, being in the Marine Corps, and consequently being deployed for the better part of 8 years after 9/11, there really wasn’t much choice in the matter. He spent most of the noughties stationed all over America, and even the world, being the best he could be for mom and me. I cherished (and depending on how rebellious I was as my teenage self, at times dreaded) the surprise visits from Dad, but as I slowly lumber towards my 30s, I gained a new appreciation for everything he did, and more importantly, everything he sacrificed for his family, and his country. Sure, it was a rocky road at times, but I wouldn’t be the man I am today without his influence. I’ll never be able to repay him for that, I’ll admit that right now, but I can aspire to be as good a role model for my future children as he was for me.
While I may be 250 pounds lighter than I was a year ago when this picture was taken, I can’t fathom how much weight and responsibility my dad has had to carry for the majority of the time I’ve known him.
Being in the military, I feel, comes with a few automatic personality traits. The ability to strike up conversations (and lengthy ones at that), a surprisingly nuanced knowledge base about some of the most incomprehensible military technology (at least, for lay people like myself), and the ability to tell stories as if they are going out of style. Over the years, I’ve heard my dad’s almost cyclical rolodex of stories and god willing, that rolodex will keep spinning for a few more decades. One story he tells stands out to me, well, because it’s a story about food.
My dad talks at length about places where he’s been stationed (at least, the unclassified ones anyways), which took him all over the world. In 2005, however, he was stationed just outside New Orleans, Louisiana. Long Story Short: he didn’t particularly enjoy his time there. He HATED the weather; It was hot, humid, muggy, and just downright miserable to an Idahoan like himself whose right at home in a arid, dry heat of the high desert. New Orleans also wasn’t in the best shape at the time; often he had to go out of his way to get things done on a daily basis. To make matters even more interesting, he was stationed there in August of that year, when Katrina decided to pay a visit. He was evacuated, like much of the city, and eventually, the military saw the amount of damage and devastation that the storm caused and sent him over to the Middle East, instead.
There was a bright spot in his time in The Big Easy, and that was a small shop he passed by after he got off the ferry each day. It was unassuming, Italian themed, and always had a bit of a Hussle about it. On a good day, there wouldn’t be much of a line, and my dad would hop into the store in a heartbeat, just at the hope that he might be able to get his favorite sandwich. This sandwich originated from New Orleans, and incorporates all different kinds of meats and cheeses, kind of like some overloaded southern version of an Italian Hero, complete with the trance-like Carbo-Coma to follow it. The sandwich is called a Muffuletta.
Seriously, too much of this and it might just put you in the hospital.
My dad would go on for hours talking about how this sandwich would make much of the hassle he had to deal with on a daily basis just melt away through the layers of Italian meats and cheeses. It affected him so much that to this day, on his birthday every year, I make a full sized, 3-ish pound Muffuletta, and it’s practically gone by the end of the day. It’s become a nice little tradition for my dad and I, as he gets to enjoy, and in a way, relive the pleasure in eating his favorite sandwich that really isn’t available in any store here in Idaho.
If you get down to it, the Muffuletta is two things at the same time: A type of bread from Sicily, and a GIANT sandwich popularized in New Orleans by by Italian Immigrants that uses the same type of bread. You’ll be hard pressed to find Muffuletta bread here in the Treasure Valley, and its more than a bit finicky to make at home, so my recipe uses local ingredients and easy to find replacements to make this sandwich a reality.
The bread we bought from Acme Bakeshop is called “Bread” bread. Yes, that’s really what it’s called!
The first step to making this behemoth is to start with a good boule of bread. Considering how difficult it is to make Muffuletta bread, and its scarcity here in the valley, it’s a good idea to go for a replacement here. These loafs need to be nice and soft on the inside, but hardy and crusty on the outside. We bought ours from Acme Bakeshop at the Boise Farmers Market, but it’s important to note that any large round crusty loaf like this is a good choice. You’ll want to slice the loaf through its equator (or lengthwise), scoop out the soft insides and set them aside (I personally like to season them with olive oil and some spices, roast them dry, then grind them into a delicious homemade bread crumb). The hardy outside of the bread helps this mammoth meal have a bit of structure, while scooping out the insides makes room for all the Italian goodness to follow.
The bottom of the boule is carved out, but not completely: There’s still a bit of padding there for a wonderful bready texture when you bite into it!
It’s customary to slather on an olive salad as the first layer on the top and bottom of the Muffuletta. I personally like to tone down the olives for 2 reasons. First, it’s a bit salty, in a sandwich with a bunch of salty meats. So, it tends to overpower everything if there is a veritable bucket of it. That, and my dad really doesn’t care for the taste of olives that much, so as a courtesy I reduce the amount. That’s not to say that there is a bad thing with having a ton of olives! Its just not my fancy. Instead, I apply a fine tapenade near the end of the sandwich construction that gives the olive flavor, without being too overpowering. To compensate for the lack of olives, I also add in a few different spreads that add some complimentary flavors.
The smokiness of the Cheddah spread works wonders with the meat here. Conversely, you can sub out half the provolone for Smoked Mozzarella, and omit the spread if you like!
Oh my gosh, let me tell you about these spreads we got at the Boise Farmer’s Market. There is a vendor there called The Kula Connection that specializes in delicious, healthy vegan food. Specifically, what drew me to them was their amazing “cheese” spreads, which are made with nuts, grains, and heart healthy materials, all while being dairy and gluten free. It’s always a joy to see these bubbly individuals carrying around platters with piles of these spreads on them, letting the delicious flavor speak for itself. This has become a purchase I make every. single. week. I especially like these spreads in sandwiches because of how lacking there are in water content. They spread on like a smooth paste, which helps reduce the risk of the bread getting soggy. It’s a win-win! There are many different kinds of flavor combinations you can pick for a spread here. For my dad, he likes a bit of heat, but also loves the Italian flavor that a Muffuletta has. So, I used The Kula Connection’s Smokey Cheddah, and Caprese spreads. Start off construction by spreading a nice layer of one flavor on the bottom half of the loaf, and the other flavor on the top half.
This sandwich is stuffed!
Next comes the layering. You’ll take all the meats and cheeses and layer each one on top of the other. I started with the Mortadella on the bottom, then half the Provolone, then the Capicola, then the rest of the provolone, and finally finished with the Salami. You’ll see in this picture that I actually ran out of room on the bottom of the loaf for the Salami, so I had to use the top to finish things off. Since I had to do that, I had to work a bit in reverse, adding in that lovely olive tapenade before adding the last layer of salami.
Let’s chat about that tapenade quick too: any olive or pickled vegetable will work well here, as long as the pieces are nice and finely chopped. Ultimately, you want the acidity and saltiness of the tapenade to give the sandwich a bit of a tangy style dressing, but not overpower everything. I’ve included a basic tapenade recipe that packs a huge amount of flavor, but feel free to adapt your tapenade to fit your tastes.
Here’s the fun part. Put the top back on the sandwich and wrap the whole dang thing in foil. Yep, all 3-ish pounds of it. This is important. See, with a sandwich this large, you need all the delicious ingredients to get nice and cozy with each other, and there’s only one way to do that: pressure. Once you’ve got your sandwich sufficiently wrapped in foil, place it on a flat surface (I would recommend against a wall) and stack as many heavy books as you can fit on top of it to weigh it down. As a rule of thumb, I would advise getting as close to 50 pounds as you can. This was a bit…easier for me than I would like to admit, though when you have a veritable library of cookbooks at your disposal, I suppose it’s rather easy to accomplish. Stack them up, and leave for 1-2 hours, or enough time for the loaf to flatten a bit, and the flavors inside to mingle together.
This is about half the stack of books that called this sandwich home for the better part of an afternoon!
After it’s sufficiently flatter, unwrap the sandwich, and slice! I would personally recommend cutting this into 8 nice, healthy-sized wedges. Keep in mind that this sandwich, while flatter, is still very heavy. So, an eighth of this will go a very long way as a portion size. In fact, you might find yourself easily full at the end of that one slice. My dad might say otherwise though, ever living by the mantra that there’s no such thing as too much of a good thing, whether it be food, or good memories. Perhaps, it’s a little bit of both.
Seeing my dad’s smile as he chows down on this mega slice of Muffaletta simply makes my day
Muffuletta Recipe
Servings: 8 healthily large slices (or one gigantic sandwich)
Ingredients:
For the Sandwich:
1 large boule of soft bread with a nice crusty exterior
½ pound Mortadella
½ pound Capicola
½ pound Salami (I recommend Sopressa for its texture and lightness)
1 pound Provolone
Spreads from Kula Connection (I recommend the Caprese and Smokey Cheddah varieites)
For the Tapenade (It’s a good idea to multiply this recipe a bit and have on hand for future use, but here are the amounts for one of these sandwiches):
½ cup of mixed olives, roughly chopped
¼ cup pepperoncini, finely chopped
1/8 cup roasted red pepper, finely chopped.
A few garlic cloves, finely minced
1 good splash olive oil
A sprinkling of capers
Salt and pepper to taste (You might find it needs no salt!)
Instructions:
1. Prepare the loaf. Slice the loaf in half lengthwise through the equator, and hollow out the inside. The squishy interior of the loaf can be used for other things, such as bread pudding, or bread crumbs.
2. Spread the spreads on each loaf. For my sandwich, I put the Caprese on the interior of the bottom of the loaf, and the Smokey Cheddah featured on the interior of the top.
3. Layer evenly the meats and cheese. I layered mine first with the mortadella, then the provolone, then the capicola, then the last of the provolone, and finally finished with the Salami on top.
4. Next, mix together the olive tapenade, and apply generously to the sandwich. Then, place the top of the loaf onto the sandwich.
5. Wrap the sandwich in foil and compress for 2 hours. I used approximately 50 lbs of cookbooks to compress mine
6. Slice and serve!
