Pan Bagnat

 

I decided it would be nice to make something a bit more summery this time, since we are finally starting to get warmer weather around here. This is my take on Pan Bagnat (sometimes spelled Pan Bagna), a meal-size sandwich from Provence. There are a lot of different versions of this sandwich, some of which involve potatoes, or green beans, or olives, or hard-boiled eggs, and various other elements native to the south of France.

I don’t remember exactly where I first came across a recipe for Pan Bagnat; I do know that it was from a magazine article rather than from a sojourn in Provence. Tant pis. But this is the version I’ve been making for years, and it suits my taste, even if I can’t verify its authenticity. But to paraphrase something JC once said, the thing to do is serve it forth and proclaim that yours is the one and only true version. So once again, no “original” recipe here, but you can head over to Epicurious or other recipe websites if you want to learn of other versions. Mine is the only true one, though. 

What I like about this iteration of Pan Bagnat is that it’s mostly an assembly of pantry ingredients—although I shamelessly paid a small fortune for the out-of-season heirloom tomato I used for this demo, you can certainly use canned tomatoes. Once you have a loaf of crusty bread and some greenery, everything else is pantry fodder: tomatoes, roasted red peppers, onion, anchovies, garlic, vinegar and olive oil. It does take some time—you have to prepare it at least an hour before you plan to serve it—but nothing about it is difficult; it makes lovely picnic fare for those of you who, for reasons incomprehensible to me, prefer to eat out of doors at the height of summer. It’s also a very good thing to have in your repertoire on those summer days when it’s too hot to contemplate using the stove.

 

Begin with a loaf of crusty bread. I’m using a ciabatta here, but any good crusty French or Italian loaf will do. Note my repetitious and tiresome use of the word “crusty.” Because this is a moist sandwich involving a fair amount of vinaigrette and other juices, you need a firm bread that won’t completely collapse on you. If you try this with squashy bread, it will disintegrate.

Using a (preferably) serrated knife, cut the bread in half horizontally, so that you have a top half and a bottom half. If the loaf is especially thick, scoop some of the crumb out to hollow the bread out a bit.

Next, you’ll need the vinaigrette. Mix together 2 or 3 minced garlic cloves, 5 or 6 anchovy fillets, 1 Tb of Dijon mustard, 2 Tb of red wine vinegar, a generous ¼ cup of olive oil, and fresh cracked pepper. Taste it before adding any salt, though, since the anchovies are quite salty.

[Heavy sigh] Yes, you can omit the anchovies. If you do so, I’d recommend adding a little more garlic and some salt to compensate. I am quietly judging you, however.

First, brush both halves of the bread with the vinaigrette.

Then add some lettuce or salad greens—I’m using arugula here, as it’s what I had on hand. Sprinkle it with a bit of vinaigrette.

From here on in, it’s just a matter of layering each ingredient, adding a little more dressing each time. How you layer them is really up to you. This is what I did:

Sliced onion.

One can of tuna, flaked. If you can find oil-packed tuna, so much the better. Water-packed tuna works fine, though, as long as you drain it well.

Tomatoes.

Basil leaves. The last layer, which I somehow neglected to photograph, is roasted red peppers (from a jar). Put the top of the loaf back on.

Now wrap the sandwich in plastic wrap, or foil if you want to be old-school about it.

Next, put a cutting board on top of the wrapped sandwich, and put a weight on top of that. I’m using my beloved cast-iron skillet, but you could use canned goods, or a brick, or whatever you can find. Put the whole operation into the fridge, and leave it for at least an hour. You can leave it for a couple of days if that’s more convenient. The longer it sits, the more the flavors will blend. The bread will get a bit soggy, but that's part of the experience; that's why we used such a (say it with me this time) crusty loaf of bread to begin with. 

When you’re ready to eat, unwrap your now-flattened sandwich, and cut it into serving pieces. It’s a bit messy, but very good nevertheless. Bon appetít, y’all.

Since we don’t have an original recipe this time, here’s an ingredient list. But again, you can vary it as you see fit. Just make sure you claim yours is the only authentic version.

For the dressing:

2-3 cloves of garlic, minced

5-6 anchovy fillets, minced

1 Tb Dijon mustard

2 Tb red wine vinegar

¼ cup olive oil

salt and pepper to taste (do not salt until after tasting)

For the sandwich:

1 loaf crusty French or Italian bread

handful of lettuce or other salad greens

1 small red onion (or 2 shallots), sliced thinly

1 can of tuna, preferably oil-packed

1 large tomato, sliced thinly (or equivalent amount of canned tomatoes)

about 12 large basil leaves

4-6 roasted red peppers (from a jar)