The Italians know how to do fast food. If ever you find yourself cruising down an Italian autostrada or stuck in an airport, rather than settling for a sub-par hamburger, chances are you can find a deli-style counter where you can order a panini-style grilled sandwich filled with superb cured meats and melted cheese, which sit between two crisp sheets of hearth-baked bread. With this memory in mind, I set out to follow Nancy Silverton's instructions in her aptly titled book Nancy Silverton's Sandwich Book.
Making a sandwich like the autostrada State-side is not quite so easy—especially when you only want one or two of them. It took a fair bit of haggling to convince the gentlemen at the Whole Foods counter to slice me one-eighth-pound portions of one-sixteenth-inch-thin mortadella, coppa, soppressata, and prosciutto; I had to cross the store to get the fancy-cheese counter people talking to the deli guys to order sliced aged provolone. But the result, cooked on a grill pan pressed down with a heavy cast-iron skillet, took me back to Italy;
Advertisement will not be printed.