I have been reading Dorothy Sayers novels all week. I’ve now run out of all the ones I had at my disposal and have to wait until Tuesday [I wrote this on Sunday; I have since gotten another book] to stock up. I feel bereft. All I can think about is when Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane will finally get married. (IF YOU KNOW, DON’T TELL ME!!!!!) It’s like Jane Austen, only with murder. It’s awesome. (Basically it’s posh British people solving murders and being charming and riding horses and driving cars with their gentlemen manservants in the 1920s and 1930s. They say “what ho” sometimes, and things of that nature. It is wonderful. I may devote my life to reading detective novels.)
Anyway, I’m really distracted because of my need to read more Dorothy Sayers. It kind of reminds me of those horrible two weeks after you finish the latest Harry Potter and you know you have to wait two or three years for the next one and you can’t think about anything except Sirius Black and stuff.
I’m making roast beef sandwiches for dinner. That’s not related to Dorothy Sayers, but you can’t really make a post out of roast beef sandwiches (well, that’s not true; I read a number of them, but I don’t have much to add). (You also can’t make a post on a food blog about Dorothy Sayers.)
I almost bought an actual horseradish at the grocery store because I couldn’t find the jarred stuff, but then I found the jarred stuff, in the sketchy aisle in the back with the chicharrones (at least that’s what I thought they were, but there are giant sheets of it so now I’m not sure), hot dogs, and bacon. I do not understand the function of that aisle. It opens into this back area of the supermarket, and things happen back there, but I don’t know what. Sometimes a man watches you while you investigate the hot dog situation. (They don’t have Hebrew National.) It’s uncomfortable. But they had horseradish.
Either way, it’s a good thing I didn’t buy the actual raw horseradish, because what I thought was horseradish was jicama. (It is alarming and embarrassing that I almost made this mistake, but I always thought jicama was a long ugly root, and the jicama actually smelled really horseradish-y, and the actual horseradish just looked terrifying and vile and dirty and knobbly and inedible. I now really regret not buying it. It would have been fun.)
So the sandwiches are going to be intense dinner sandwiches, with melty cheese, arugula, and horseradish sauce. (I never used to like roast beef, but something happened lately. I think I mostly just want a vehicle for horseradish sauce.) I bought multigrain bread from Hot Bread Kitchen—because I picked it up and asked the type and price and then felt awkward putting it back; THIS IS WHY I DON’T GO TO FARMERS’ MARKETS—so the sandwich is not going to be appropriately Jewish, but we all make sacrifices. (And the people in Dorothy Sayers novels are most likely anti-Semitic. I can’t remember if they said anything about Jews in particular, but they kept using ethnic slurs of which I didn’t know the meaning, so it’s possible.)
This is a long post considering all I’m going to do is put some things in a toaster. I haven’t actually started yet. I’m just sitting here typing. (Also, I just noticed that it’s basically the end of summer. It started getting dark out and I was like, ooooh, exciting, it’s going to thunderstorm; but actually it was just getting dark out.)
OK, I made and ate the sandwich. I’m not giving you a recipe, but I got ideas and the sauce recipe from Closet Cooking.
I mixed 2 tbsp mayo + 1 tbsp mustard (country dijon) + 1 tbsp horseradish, but will definitely tweak the sauce and add more mustard and, especially, more horseradish to the remaining sauce when I make more sandwiches later in the week.
I layered not enough of it (probably about a quarter of the total sauce) on bread and then added about three slices of roast beef and maybe one and a half or two slices of provolone (will add more next time) and broiled it in the toaster (should have done it for longer); then I added red onion and arugula. The flavor balance was sort of off. I’m extraordinarily full now. This is why I stopped being a vegetarian.
Oh, also, roast beef is mad fucking expensive. I can never buy it again.