Pane Bianco and Sandwich Love

So there's the sandwich you throw together with whatever happens to be lingering in the frig.. And then there the sandwich which centers your soul and reminds of how good life is and how blessed I am to have hands to get this magnificent sandwich into my mouth. Yes, that kind of sandwich.

It's fall in Phoenix. The summer heat has finally broken and a gentle breeze graces the mountain valley creating the perfect blue sky vacation day. I've flown in to visit with Jordan for a week in the desert city he now calls home. It's been several days later. We've been all over the city enjoying the eats and drinks, deep dish pizzas, wines, par-baked cookies with ice cream, wraps from cafes.



And then we arrive as Pane Bianco. It's small. Rustic. Simple. Stripped to the basics with a slight old market flare. There's a black chalkboard with the day's specials. 2 young women in aprons take orders. And behind them, men are kneading dough to be baked in the wood-burning oven.


At which time, I realize I'll give the shoes off on my feet, to be able to have a sandwich on that bread. Take them.. They're yours.

Jordan and I order. Sandwiches and glass bottled soda. We wait. Our order is called. Outside there's a lil space left on one of the wooden picnic tables.

It was there I had the best sandwich of my life. Tomatoes, basil, mozzarella, salt, and pepper on bread baked just yards from where we sat. Wrapped in parchment paper, sipping a ginger soda, in the cool shade of the porch there with Jordan, Life itself was good.


I'll be eighty years old and think of that sandwich in Phoenix with someone I love sitting across from me in the desert valley outside Pane Bianco, and my heart will be happy.

[photos courtesy Pane Bianco and Serious Eats. I was too busy savoring the meal to take pics.]