The World is Rubbish, so I make Sandwiches for My Friends
How making sandwiches helped Denai Moore fall in love with food again, plus her guide to a good sandwich
Good morning, and welcome to Vittles! Today, Denai Moore, the ‘sando queen of Instagram’, discusses how making elaborate sandwiches grounds her, and shares a recipe for a channa roti sandwich inspired by a family trip to Antigua.
Issue 2 of our print magazine, on the theme of Bad Food, is still available. You can order a copy here.
What does self-soothing look like for you when the world is on fire? What is bringing you ease in the doom and gloom?
At some point in 2024, making food, the thing that I was supposed to love more than anything, began to feel like a chore. I shared increasingly fewer recipes, because I lost the urgency to do so.
I don’t quite remember when or why, but at some point, I started to make increasingly elaborate sandwiches from scratch. At first I made these sandwiches for myself, but somewhere along the way I started to share them with friends. I would hand-deliver them, and we would eat together in judgement-free company.
I’m sure that sandwiches are meant to be more instant than the ones I was making, which sometimes took hours to prepare if you factor in making the bread (which, honestly, just screams ‘self-employed behaviour’). But this inconvenient, clear-my-whole-schedule, all-consuming kind of sandwich-making brought me out of my creative drought – and, most importantly, back to myself. All the residual hope that I have for a tender world is still being held together by these sandwiches.
Like Rome, my sandwiches generally are not built in one day; each one is laboured over and carefully considered, layer by layer (of course, the process can be shortened substantially if it’s lunchtime and you’re hungry). These sandwiches have a pulse to them, each one an idea romantically pursued as soon as it enters my brain. Whenever and wherever inspiration strikes, I turn to my notes app, where no idea or feeling goes undocumented or is unworthy of existing.
Then the journey begins, although the destination often changes along the way. Even if I feel at odds with myself, the commitment of promising a sandwich to a friend helps me to push through, almost like an accountability pact. I’ve never regretted the time and effort that I’ve put into making a sandwich for someone – and my future self is always eternally grateful for the days’ worth of extra focaccia I usually make in the process.
Like most people, I spend far too much time online, more than I care to admit. The internal pull and tug of guilt, shame, dread and fear just feels like the baseline of daily life now. Coffee with a headline that you wish you could just un-read immediately, before you have to get on with your day like nothing is happening. Deranged stories of pop stars going to space for ten seconds and dating former prime ministers are interspersed with live-streamed footage of the Gaza genocide, now into its third year, and global-warming-induced natural disasters. I feel like I have no choice but to scream/tweet/cry in rage/cry from sadness all at once, and all my friends feel equally helpless too.
While the sandwich making has saved me, it’s community and friendship that are really keeping me here. Making plans as an adult can be a logistical nightmare of google calendars and constant messages on multiple platforms. I’ve been guilty of hiding away from my friends because the admin is too much, when all I want is to spend stress-free one-on-one time with them without the need to schedule weeks in advance or secure a reservation at a vibey new restaurant. Sharing the sandwiches I make with my friends has helped me out of my cocoon. I’ve hand-delivered them to pals’ doorsteps or offices, unscripted, unplanned, no big occasion needed. In a world where my time feels like it’s evaporating into thin air, these sandwiches have forced me to slow down.
Now, to the question you’ve all been dying for me to answer: What makes a good sandwich? Of course, there’s no one answer, but as ‘the sando queen of Instagram’ – according to online strangers, at least – I will talk you through what I consider the key factors to consider.
Denai’s Sandwich Philosophy
Inspiration
The first place to start is the inspiration: the source, the reason for the sandwich. You take the reins here. Anything can be a sandwich – a roast dinner, a Thai red curry, a spring roll – so let your imagination run wild. Maybe there’s a core memory dish that somehow involves three carbs all at once (Jamaican-coded), or maybe you have leftover prawn crackers from your takeaway that you want to use up. This is a judgement-free zone. It’s just you and your multi-layered dream.
Bread
This is arguably the most important factor – without good bread, it’s a bad sandwich, I fear. I tend to make focaccia from scratch for my sandwiches, but I appreciate that not everyone has the time or inclination to do that. If you’re making a special sandwich, I highly recommend buying the bread from your local bakery. But remember that ‘good bread’ doesn’t have to mean ‘expensive’ or ‘fancy’; it’s more about matching the vibe of the sandwich. I have a special place in my heart for a PB&J made with squidgy white supermarket bread, which just wouldn’t hit the same on sourdough.
Balance
A sandwich is a balancing act between moistness, juiciness, crispness, freshness, herbaceous-ness, sweetness, tanginess and texture. Each ingredient in a sandwich has its place and a purpose, and you should think about what each one is bringing to the overall experience. Texture feels especially important to me: the last thing you want is too many ingredients with the same texture, leading to either a soggy mess or something all too dry (which is arguably worse).
Don’t limit yourself to the usual suspects – open your mind beyond lettuce and tomato (although of course, they still have their place). Thinly sliced fennel or cabbage are more robust and sturdier, and work fantastically. Herbs are also a big feature in every sandwich that I make: try tearing fresh dill, mint or parsley on top of the filling.
Here are some of my favourite go-to fillings to introduce a play of textures and balance.
Crispy-ness: Think crispy onions (shop-bought or homemade), crisps of all kinds, tostones (arguably better than hash browns, imo).
Salad-y bits: Experiment with white or red cabbage, fennel, radishes, sprouts or grated carrot, but don’t sleep on the classics either – cucumber, tomatoes, red onion and celery are popular for a reason.
Freshness/herbaceousness: parsley, mint, coriander, dill, coriander, chives and spring onions all work well.
Sweetness/tanginess: chilli jam is nearly always a good call, but choose any condiment that your heart desires (just not tommy k). Also: pickles of all forms, sauerkraut, kimchi.
Layers Matter
Here, I am more concerned with depth of flavour rather than neatly distinct strata. Your sandwich should have layers of taste that build on top of each other. For example, I love a hit of allium in my sandwiches to bring an extra something – try mixing some spring onions into the mayo, or some pickled red onions as a final topping.
Make It Yours!
My God, if it’s going to be your sandwich, make it yours! No mustard? Cool by me. The weirdly liberating part about this whole thing is that, in the beginning, these sandwiches were mine, all mine, eaten messily in my garden without anyone’s gaze. So, throw caution to the wind and make the sando of your dreams!!!!!
Channa Roti Sando
I began working on this piece last summer, when the UK was enduring a heatwave that felt like a punishment. In this heat, a memory flashed into my mind of a LIFE-ALTERING roti that I ate with my family in Antigua in 2022. Thinking back on the warmth now is helping me get through the depths of winter.