Culinary memories from Switzerland: THE canapé. Sandwiches are a ubiquitous food staple around the world. From their official inception with John Montagu, the 4^th Earl of Sandwich (1718–1792)—who had requested that his valet prepare a “piece of meat tucked between two pieces of bread” —to contemporary fast food franchises specializing in oversized, fully loaded footlong versions, each country’s identity includes some sort of bread butterflied and filled with delectable indigenous ingredients (melted cheese, cold and grilled meats, vegetables, yogurt, spicy mayonnaise, and even peanut butter and jelly). Perhaps one day, in this cornucopia of world sandwiches, one might be included as a food item on UNESCO’s List of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

Candidates for this cultural tribute might include (images below in order): grilled cheese or its upscale Italian version the Panini (no relation to the Italian painter Giovanni Paolo Panini); a Vietnamese Banh Mi’ or the classic Cuban sandwich, both with delicious grilled pork; a Spanish Bocadillo; French baguette with ham and Gruyere; Gyros/Doner Kebabs/Shawarma with delicious Mediterranean and Middle East flavors; Mexico’s Torta; Arepa from South America; and Vada Pav, a staple of Indian street food.

Google images 1: various sandwiches

This list is not exhaustive and certainly there are also open sandwiches. Outside of the famous Hot Dog—a third of Americans consider it an open sandwich—I will mention two of my favorites.

I love bruschetta with its deep southern flavors and the colors of ripe tomatoes which give off such fragrance and shine, along with the extra-virgin olive oil (yes, it does make a real difference here), freshly cut basil leaves full of summer aroma, and grilled bread generously rubbed with garlic. The dish is so distinctive as a representative of Italy’s culinary offerings. Served generally as an antipasto—a starter dish that precedes pasta as a first course, followed by a second regional fish or meat dish, and ending with a dolce such as panna cotta or tiramisu—it is best savored at a restaurant among friends or con la famiglia.

Another favorite open-faced sandwich is the Swiss canapé. I will admit that while I love their taste and presentation, they are also part of my childhood memories growing up in Switzerland. Every bakery, confiserie or tea room in any Swiss village (and I am not exaggerating) offers their version of canapés on the menu. Prominently displayed in an immaculate glass case, canapés are typically square or round and feature staple ingredients such as salami or ham, hard-boiled eggs, tomatoes, pickled chanterelles, artichokes, cornichons, baby corn, and capers with a decorative touch of beautifully piped Thomi mayonnaise.

They are beautiful with their glistening gelatin glaze. I currently live in the United States and do not have access to these delicacies, thus, I decided to create some homemade ones. After discussing favorites with friends in Switzerland, I embarked on my own versions.

Image 2: Canapés -Salmon on cheese with sliced radish, capers, lemon zest and mayonnaise; cucumber with mirin, baby shrimp, tomato and mayonnaise

Cucumber with mirin, baby shrimp, tomato and mayonnaise

(Image 2, right) Cutting off the sides of sandwich bread (left overs were used as bread crumbs), I buttered them lightly and decided on my four main flavors: salmon, baby shrimp, prosciutto and egg, and pesto with ham and egg. I started with the shrimp one and layered the canapé with thinly sliced cucumber. My first attempt was disappointing as the canapé seemed flat and uninteresting. Yes, I am an architect and emphasize presentation when cooking, although never at the expense of the overall flavor.

To give more volume to my shrimp canapé, I decided to fold the cucumber in half and also overlap the pieces to give more volume. When I moved to duplicate what I considered a success I accidently reversed the cucumber, now emphasizing the thin green skin, and it was so much more appealing. I quickly rectified the previous layout, and finished with a slight pinching of the last folded cucumber—this allowed the last slice to not unfold. Then I added a little Japanese Mirin (sweet cooking rice seasoning available in grocery stores) and moved on to the next layer.

Centering the shrimps on the bed of cucumber, I added color with a sliver of tomato and parsley and finished with a touch of mayonnaise.

Salmon on cheese with radish, capers, lemon zest and mayonnaise

(Image 2, left) I had smoked salmon left over from a bagel with lox and cream cheese and decided to use both ingredients for my second canapé. After the success of the first ones where I learned to create volume and not simply layer each ingredient like pieces of paper, I delicately rolled a slice of salmon into a tube and laid it over the buttered bread and thin slather of cream cheese.

A slice of radish to bring color, the addition of a few capers, lemon zest, a touch of dill and, of course, some piped mayonnaise, and I completed my second round of canapés.

Image 3: Canapés -Prosciutto with egg and mayonnaise; pesto with ham, egg, radishes and mayonnaise

I proceeded to create two more versions (images 3, left and right) with readily available ingredients. I always have some frozen homemade pesto and ventured to use it as a base for the ham and egg version. Note that in this one (image 3, right) I opted to thinly slice the radish thus again creating a color contrast but with a different scale.

Set onto a lined baking sheet, all of the canapés went into the refrigerator to prepare them for the gelatin.

Gelatin

While food customs and food preparation are regional, the little secret of their success is often a matter of personal touch. A friend recommended that I follow the manufacturer’s instructions in making the gelatin, only altering the directions by the addition of some sherry, madeira or port. However, the end result was darker than I remembered in Switzerland and I opted to not use it. Turning to the wisdom of French cooking through Julia Child’s masterwork, I was able, with some trial and error, to create my transparent gelatin favored with white vermouth.

Following her instructions, I heated the gelatin then cooled it until it coated the back of a spoon. Then I removed the canapés from the refrigerator and gently spooned on the gelatin in two stages while paying attention to not cover the sides. I aimed for a thin layer over the central ingredients.

Conclusion

The canapés looked beautiful and, accompanied by a leafy garden salad and Austrian style potatoes, they formed the centerpiece of a perfect Sunday al fresco evening Café Complet on our porch overlooking a sunset (image 4).

Image 4: final dinner al fresco