Innovation at Hand

One of the more eccentric options at the new inner-Southeast
sandwich shop Meat Cheese Bread is the ham and cheese ($4.95). A
sandwich in looks only (stuff stuffed in bread), the ham and cheese is
a delicious breakfast texture freakout that turns the whole sandwich
experience inside out. The crux of this substantial offering is not the
filling—mixed greens, vinaigrette, and fried egg—but the
abutting slices of savory bread pudding. I’ve never eaten sliced bread
pudding (perhaps I’m sheltered), but here it is, two slabs, golden
brown, slightly cheesy, and generously studded with ham. The
ingredients work incredibly well with each other, but the texture is
strange; on the tongue, the bread pudding has a creamy expanding
quality while the egg saturates the stiff greens, creating a wonderland
of consistencies between the teeth.

Great flavor and complicated texture speak to the innovative strand
on which the menu items at Meat Cheese Bread line up like pearls.
That’s as it should be. The sandwich has always lent itself to
tinkering and creativity. Beginning with John Montagu, the fourth earl
of Sandwich, and spanning continents and eras, the sandwich has taken a
mind-boggling number of forms. And in the bright, humble shop on a
desolate stretch of SE Stark, the inventiveness of Meat Cheese Bread
has led to wonderful new creations like the B.L.B (beet, lettuce,
bacon).

The B.L.B. ($8.95), unlike the ham and cheese, is all about the
filling: thick slices of roasted heirloom beets give up a terrestrial
sweetness, while a slab of bacon provides a porky foundation of
toothsome smoke. This sandwich has become my mascot for winter
lunching; it’s like a post wood-chopping snack dreamed up by an
eccentric wilderness-bound recluse.

There is a miss or two on the menu. The turkey melt ($6.50), despite
the mild heat and charming char of a roasted green chili salsa, was
disappointing due to bland and abundant sliced turkey. Also, a cheddar
and potato soup ($3.50) suffered from thin, grainy texture.
Nevertheless, the flavor was cheese-and-starch comfort with a motherly
cheek pinch of spiciness. And any mother would surely point out that
both of these options are far from lost causes, and could easily be
brought up to the standards of the rest of menu with a few tweaks.

Said standards are particularly high when you consider the Park
Kitchen sandwich ($7.95). Based on a salad enjoyed by Meat Cheese Bread
owner John Stewart when he worked as a line cook at the pearl district
eatery Park Kitchen, this sandwich combines beautifully tender slices
of flank steak with blue cheese mayonnaise, pickled onions, lettuce,
and vinaigrette. It’s an exceptionally easy sandwich to eat, especially
paired with a lively potato salad ($2) that adeptly blends tones of
fennel, tarragon, and basil.

For breakfast and lunch, Meat Cheese Bread is a welcome option in
inner Southeast, where the options can be a tad limited, especially if
you’re in a hurry. But more than that, the menu changes on the chef’s
whim, so it will never get boring. I’m told that Sloppy Joes are in the
near future.

Could the sandwich innovation at Meat Cheese Bread bring a new
standard of excellence into the local sandwich lexicon? I’ll wait and
see. The ham and cheese may never catch on, but if they keep doing what
they’re doing, sandwich fame is a distinct possibility.