Several weeks ago I was asked to contribute a recipe to a guide’s book-in-progress, supposedly in a chapter to be about great river lunches; appropriately flattered, the request prompted some deep recollection.
While we tend to admire greatly those folks who lug along a camp kitchen, replete with tables, chairs and a stove to prep a hot meal for their dudes in tow, we’ve in all reality never done that as we’d rather spend lunch time fishing instead of cooking when out on the river.
A backpacking stove in winter for some hot tea, soup or noodles? Hell yes, but that’s a far cry from a full kitchen, and can be done on the front seat of a drift boat if the oarsman is mindful and the river allows.
Years ago we used to fish The South Fork of the Snake with a group of guys out of SLC who were, by all rights, probably the riverside sandwich kings. They spent as much time every morning in camp making sandwiches as rigging gear, cooking breakfast, cleaning up, prepping boats for the day, etc. Occasionally they’d even argue over inane things common to fly fishers, like which lettuce made the best sandwiches (we like the crunch of romaine and iceberg, the green leafies might pack a touch more flavor but tend to wilt over time).
The guy who found the time to make the run to Great Harvest Bread before the trip, and have the bread sliced and packaged just so was even awarded special privilege during the trip – such as the first sandwich, the last piece of bacon, skip one turn on the sticks, etc.
Our routine back in the day was to either float “the canyon” section (26 miles) or “the upper” (15 miles) twice to squeeze in as much fishing as possible. That meant every man, woman and child along needed at least two sandwiches, if not three, for the day. And two or three for the boat, just in case…
The tailgate of somebody’s truck would become the morning assembly station and one of the sandwich kings would recruit a galley slave to handle menial tasks, as in “Hey bub, fetch me the butter and mayo out of the cooler” or “Hey bub, rewrap that sandwich a little tighter”.
There were some pretty bizarre combinations of sandwich fillings assembled over the years, pending on whose kids and what different friends came along, though like in most things in life and in the kitchen, I tended to gravitate toward more simplistic constructs in my sandwiches there.
This South Fork Ham and Swiss became my go to river sandwich, made of course with mustard and a layer of well-drained bread and butter pickles sandwiched (no pun intended) right in the middle.
Now that’s a river sandwich….
Fresh baked Pullman or sourdough bread, thick sandwich sliced
Butter
Mustard or Mayo
Lettuce (see discussion above)
Thin-sliced (but not too thin) baby Swiss cheese
Honey-baked ham, sliced
Bread and butter pickles, drained
Spanish onion, sliced paper thin
This isn’t rocket science, but…
Your sandwich will stay ‘not soggy’ much longer if you’ll butter one side and slather the mayo or mustard (this sandwich screams for mustard) on the other, then cover each side with a single slice of the (dry) lettuce of your choice.
Three slices of cheese on one piece of bread, topped with the well-drained bread and butter pickles and a few slices of the onion, then with two or three slices of the ham.
Cover with the other bread and wrap in foil (these are too big for standard sandwich bags) and keep in the cooler until it’s time for “first sandwich”. Drop anchor, break out the beer, and go to it.
Enjoy.
