It has been a long held tradition in my household to enjoy the obligatory Boxing Day sandwich. Made up of leftovers from dinner the previous day, over the years I have enhanced it so that it has progressed from the basic, child friendly turkey and stuffing sandwich my Dad used to serve up to us while we languished on the sofa into something a fully fledged foodie would be proud of.
This year Christmas Day was spent at my mum's house. I hail from a large, direct family (four sisters, two brothers) and once husbands, wives, long term partners and respective children are added into the equation gatherings can be rather raucous. Yesterday, however, we were a much more modest nine for lunch. My younger sister (bless her) had volunteered to cook us all a three course meal. Apparently she arrived at my mum's for 7.30am in the morning. I was still in bed at that point smugly snuggled up under my duvet thanking my good judgement for giving the honours to cook Christmas dinner to someone else.
So fast forward to lunch time itself. There's something wonderfully different about Christmas dinner cooking over any other roast dinner of the year. Maybe it's the anticipation, maybe it's the decorations, maybe it's the fact you get a cracker at your place setting or just maybe it's because I am always blimming starving that by the time it's served up I act like an unleashed animal who hasn't eaten in days.
My sister's spread was honestly one of my favourite Christmas dinners ever. Free range turkey, all organic vegetables: brussel sprouts, carrots, parsnips, roast potatoes, stuffing, pigs in blankets, cranberry sauce, bread sauce (made from homemade bread no less!) and gravy. The taste was tremendous and I ate every single delicious mouthful with relish. By the evening, craving more, I treated myself to a "mini Christmas dinner" (a small plate made up of one of each item from lunch).
Something magical happens to leftovers from Christmas dinner overnight while they rest in the fridge. I'm not sure how and I'm not sure why but the flavours enhance and, just like a cold curry breakfast, they're almost better the next morning. A Christmas miracle!
So Boxing Day arrives and inevitably I'm either completely knackered (too much TV and Christmas cake the night before) or hungover (too much sparkling wine and port) or both. It then becomes absolutely essential for me to go on a carb overload. What better way to satisfy my lust by making up the best sandwich of the whole entire year but with The Boxing Day Leftovers sandwich? No dodgy cardboard boxes, no plastic cellophane. Just good old fashioned side plates with foil coverings. What's more I didn't even have to cook any of this stuff myself. Priceless!
Now, making up a Boxing Day leftovers sandwich is entirely personal preference but this is how I like to do it:
I take two slices of white bread. It has to be white. Don't ask me why but I prefer the flavour on a day like today and this is no time to start eating sensibly. I prefer thin slices as it's the filling which is the star of my show. On to both slices I spread butter. Real butter. None of this margarine/olive oil spread crap. See aforementioned point about eating sensibly. Then onto one slice I liberally slather bread sauce. This is my replacement for mayonnaise. The stuff that should never see the inside of a festive sandwich as far as I am concerned! On the other slice a good layer of cranberry sauce. Not too much but enough so I can taste it. On top of the cranberry slice I place turkey meat (both white and brown). The rest of the filling then goes onto the bread sauce slice. This year I have pigs in blankets (chopped), stuffing, roast potatoes (sliced) and carrots. Close the sandwich, cut in half and enjoy with a large glass of whatever you fancy! On this occasion it was cold milk.
My sandwich is so good I can taste it before I have even made it. This year's does not disappoint. The quality of the ingredients make it all the better and it is one of the best yet. A god of all Christmas dinner sandwiches and a little piece of heaven.
Verdict: The best sandwich ever, ever, ever! Amazeballs!
Rating: It would hardly be fair to rate this against the pre-packed contestants. Suffice to say that, just like a book is generally better than the film with the same name, homemade can always be guaranteed to beat the processed, mass produced item hands down!
Final note: I hope you have enjoyed reading my Festive Sandwich Fiesta blog this year. Thank you to everyone for your support and kind words of appreciation. If you're hungry for more then look out for my new blog in 2012 "52 weeks of recipes" where I will be trialling and reporting back on a new recipe each week throughout the year.
Monday, 26 December 2011
Thursday, 15 December 2011
The Co-operative Turkey, Stuffing & Cranberry £2.50 (10 pence donated to Mencap for every sandwich sold)
The Co-op retains a wealth of childhood memories for me. Most of them involve either sitting in their car park waiting for my mother while she picked up a "couple of bits" (usually equating to two trolley's worth by the time she returned) or dragging my heals round lethargically behind her as she surveyed and inspected everything with religious zeal.
They've come a long way since my childhood and although it's not the first brand which springs to my mind when I consider food shopping, their friendly, convenient, well stocked stores no longer feel depressing to me (perhaps I just grew up!)
Today I am testing out their Turkey, Stuffing and Cranberry sandwich. Priced at just £2.50 they're even giving me 50% free as well as 10 pence to Mencap. How lovely. A brand with a conscience. Top marks for seasonal spirit.
The sandwich itself however looks like the most boring, uninspiring food offering currently on earth. Packaged in a high gloss, flimsy plastic carton it looks positively grey. I'm not sure if I even want to eat it having now seen it. I feel a bit sad about this. Surely a sandwich of such charitable generousity should also deliver in the foodie stakes?
After avoiding the sandwich for half a day I venture to eat it. Now to be fair, I'm beginning to run out of steam for festive sandwiches so this isn't entirely relevant to this particular sandwich, just the way I am starting to feel after weeks of pre-packed turkeyness.
Upon opening there is a good tang of stuffing drifting out. The sandwich itself however is a mish mash of shredded up bits of turkey and stuffing with a few dots of cranberry here and there for good measure. I can tell straight away that the likelihood of tasting any cranberry in this sandwich is slim to none. I try to shoe horn one half of the sandwich from its container. It's locked in good and proper and as I wrestle with it, parts of it come away in my hand as the rest remains stubbornly clutching to its other half. The bread is flimsy and weak. The type of stuff that if butter even glances at it it will disintegrate. Maybe they over did it with the 50% free? Sandwiches need to breath a bit and I need to keep my sanity when trying to eat them!
Eventually I liberate enough of the sandwich to try a mouthful. The flavouring is ok. It's not setting my taste buds on fire but it's edible. The distinct lack of cranberry ruins it for me and the turkey is a bit stringey. Any hint of cranberry I do pick up is sour. This sandwich needs something else but I'm not quite sure what. A new personality? Time with a life coach? A trip to a day spa to revive its baked goodness? Something, anything which can encourage it to be more than just a bit of turkey and stuffing whacked between two slices of bread.
Verdict: The charitable sandwich of choice.
Rating: Five out of ten
They've come a long way since my childhood and although it's not the first brand which springs to my mind when I consider food shopping, their friendly, convenient, well stocked stores no longer feel depressing to me (perhaps I just grew up!)
Today I am testing out their Turkey, Stuffing and Cranberry sandwich. Priced at just £2.50 they're even giving me 50% free as well as 10 pence to Mencap. How lovely. A brand with a conscience. Top marks for seasonal spirit.
The sandwich itself however looks like the most boring, uninspiring food offering currently on earth. Packaged in a high gloss, flimsy plastic carton it looks positively grey. I'm not sure if I even want to eat it having now seen it. I feel a bit sad about this. Surely a sandwich of such charitable generousity should also deliver in the foodie stakes?
After avoiding the sandwich for half a day I venture to eat it. Now to be fair, I'm beginning to run out of steam for festive sandwiches so this isn't entirely relevant to this particular sandwich, just the way I am starting to feel after weeks of pre-packed turkeyness.
Upon opening there is a good tang of stuffing drifting out. The sandwich itself however is a mish mash of shredded up bits of turkey and stuffing with a few dots of cranberry here and there for good measure. I can tell straight away that the likelihood of tasting any cranberry in this sandwich is slim to none. I try to shoe horn one half of the sandwich from its container. It's locked in good and proper and as I wrestle with it, parts of it come away in my hand as the rest remains stubbornly clutching to its other half. The bread is flimsy and weak. The type of stuff that if butter even glances at it it will disintegrate. Maybe they over did it with the 50% free? Sandwiches need to breath a bit and I need to keep my sanity when trying to eat them!
Eventually I liberate enough of the sandwich to try a mouthful. The flavouring is ok. It's not setting my taste buds on fire but it's edible. The distinct lack of cranberry ruins it for me and the turkey is a bit stringey. Any hint of cranberry I do pick up is sour. This sandwich needs something else but I'm not quite sure what. A new personality? Time with a life coach? A trip to a day spa to revive its baked goodness? Something, anything which can encourage it to be more than just a bit of turkey and stuffing whacked between two slices of bread.
Verdict: The charitable sandwich of choice.
Rating: Five out of ten
Friday, 2 December 2011
Tesco Turkey with all the trimmings £2.00
To me, Tesco has always been the absolute epitome of a weapon of mass consumption. One of the biggest hitting supermarkets in the country they sell everything from lettuce to life insurance. Even big brands Costa Coffee and Virgin have jumped on their instant gravy train to create a potential one stop shop for all your daily needs. I imagine if products could talk here they would mostly speak Mandarin. Don't be fooled by Tesco's image though. They have spent years carefully and painstakingly crafting themselves into an icon of huge savings yet subtly encourage you to spend more than you originally went in for. Before you know it you've bought a pair of new shoes, a mobile phone SIM and a library of books when all you wanted was a loaf of bread and a pint of milk.
Having spent most of my working life in marketing, I know to approach Tesco with some level of caution as well as preparation. Forget multi buys. I'm of the "Martin Lewis" school of economics. I know that "if I don't need it, I don't buy it". I also know that cheap products generally dwell on the bottom shelves so you'll usually see me food shopping there in a mostly horizontal stance wearing glasses, as I scrutinise all the labels to ensure I am getting the best value for money. It's strange how the cheaper the items the more of a skinflint you become!
Having said all of this I don't have anything against Tesco. I shop there regularly. They know their target market and they do an extremely good job of catering for it. They have the most delicious pork and pickle pies (seriously, try them one day!) and I think that their voucher scheme is one of the things which keeps me going back for more.
So onto today's sandwich. This one is called "Turkey with all the trimmings". Sounds delightful. Another red box with a rosy cheeked cartoon Father Christmas and a rather naff looking green garland. Through the polythene window I can see a mass of sausage that a German would be proud of.
Opening the sandwich I give it a good sniff. It has the bouquet of pre-packed processed turkey. Not that surprising really as the turkey looks of the pre-packed processed variety. There is a huge quantity of sausage wrestling to burst free from the bread. If I hadn't have had a box telling me otherwise I would have assumed this sandwich was "Sausage and all the trimmings". The sausage is chopped and looks like it has escaped from the cocktail sticks at a children's birthday party. The stuffing, if you can call it that, is barely visible and wet looking. The cranberry looks ok but disappointingly there is no bacon of any kind. I thought this was "all the trimmings"? On the bright side, there's not a lettuce or spinach leaf in sight. Hurrah!
I take a bite out of the sandwich and to my huge surprise it doesn't taste bad at all. It actually has really good flavour. The cranberry is sweet and the stuffing savoury. The seasoning is well balanced; no peppery punches here, and I can just about get a hint of turkey in between the mouthfuls of sausage. I'm not a huge fan of the sausage though. It's a bit tough and they could do with toning it down. Or swap it for some crispy bacon perhaps?
I continue to take bite after bite of this sandwich. Mostly to convince myself that I do like it and I'm not dreaming. The image of it and the taste of it are on different sides of the planet. What you see isn't always what you get...
Verdict: A tasty, flavoursome, competitively priced budget sandwich ideal for sausage lovers. Worth a try.
Rating: 7 out of 10
Having spent most of my working life in marketing, I know to approach Tesco with some level of caution as well as preparation. Forget multi buys. I'm of the "Martin Lewis" school of economics. I know that "if I don't need it, I don't buy it". I also know that cheap products generally dwell on the bottom shelves so you'll usually see me food shopping there in a mostly horizontal stance wearing glasses, as I scrutinise all the labels to ensure I am getting the best value for money. It's strange how the cheaper the items the more of a skinflint you become!
Having said all of this I don't have anything against Tesco. I shop there regularly. They know their target market and they do an extremely good job of catering for it. They have the most delicious pork and pickle pies (seriously, try them one day!) and I think that their voucher scheme is one of the things which keeps me going back for more.
So onto today's sandwich. This one is called "Turkey with all the trimmings". Sounds delightful. Another red box with a rosy cheeked cartoon Father Christmas and a rather naff looking green garland. Through the polythene window I can see a mass of sausage that a German would be proud of.
Opening the sandwich I give it a good sniff. It has the bouquet of pre-packed processed turkey. Not that surprising really as the turkey looks of the pre-packed processed variety. There is a huge quantity of sausage wrestling to burst free from the bread. If I hadn't have had a box telling me otherwise I would have assumed this sandwich was "Sausage and all the trimmings". The sausage is chopped and looks like it has escaped from the cocktail sticks at a children's birthday party. The stuffing, if you can call it that, is barely visible and wet looking. The cranberry looks ok but disappointingly there is no bacon of any kind. I thought this was "all the trimmings"? On the bright side, there's not a lettuce or spinach leaf in sight. Hurrah!
I take a bite out of the sandwich and to my huge surprise it doesn't taste bad at all. It actually has really good flavour. The cranberry is sweet and the stuffing savoury. The seasoning is well balanced; no peppery punches here, and I can just about get a hint of turkey in between the mouthfuls of sausage. I'm not a huge fan of the sausage though. It's a bit tough and they could do with toning it down. Or swap it for some crispy bacon perhaps?
I continue to take bite after bite of this sandwich. Mostly to convince myself that I do like it and I'm not dreaming. The image of it and the taste of it are on different sides of the planet. What you see isn't always what you get...
Verdict: A tasty, flavoursome, competitively priced budget sandwich ideal for sausage lovers. Worth a try.
Rating: 7 out of 10
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Wild Bean Cafe Turkey, Bacon, Stuffing & Cranberry Sandwich £2.89
Petrol stations don't instantly summon up visions of a place where edible treats are available in abundance. I rarely, if ever, eat from them. In recent years there has been a sudden trend for tagging on cafes in an attempt to make you believe that food there is actually good. Maybe it's just me but buying a sandwich in the same vicinity as motor oil doesn't really appeal. I imagine them to be dry and skanky and reserved for those who drive white vans (call me a snob if you like, but I bet it's true!)
Today I am trialling Wild Bean Cafe's festive offering. To be fair, I don't mind Wild Bean Cafe. I have tried their steak bakes on a couple of early morning runs and enjoyed them (minus the white van naturally!)
As always the refrigerator in this particular petrol station is in the corner at the back (heaven forbid someone might spot me, right? <wink>) There is a packed cabinet today. Many sandwiches, including the one I'm collecting, are on 50% off "reduced to clear" (it's about to go out of date). I hope this isn't a prophecy of what is to come.
As soon as I see the sandwich, I literally recoil in horror. Is that awful of me? I'm not trying to be judgemental just because I can be and I write a blog review. I honestly do not like the look of this sandwich. The cranberry has a very pink unnatural tinge to it and the lettuce (yes, lettuce, which we all know is a cardinal sin in festive sandwiches) is actually of the iceberg variety <shock> and going brown (wrong on so many levels!) A positive thing I can say though is the packaging is genuinely quite attractive. In an "on trend" postage paper brown box with maroon label at least it's different from the usual red design I am normally greeted with.
I'm not particularly looking forward to this sandwich. I open it up gingerly. I give it a sniff and it has, bizarrely, a distinct whiff of nail polish remover. I promise I'm not making this up. It really smells like that to me. I feel a bit ill. Visually there is plenty of filling. I am not sure if this is a good thing. The bacon looks anaemic. The frightful pink of the cranberry has seeped into the bread and the iceberg lettuce is really bothering me. I'm half inclined to not take a bite at all but fairs, fair in the world of festive sandwich reviews and therefore it would be rude not to. I take a tentative nibble. Two mouthfuls later and I refuse to eat anymore. I can't really describe what this sandwich tastes of. Mostly I think it tastes like the breathing in of strong fumes from industrial cleaning products. Maybe they washed the lettuce in bleach? Or the ink from the cardboard has infiltrated the bread somehow? Who knows? It just does not taste right at all.
As the remains of the sandwich plop into my bin I sum up the benefits. The trial is over. I didn't pay full price. I get to eat something for lunch other than a turkey sandwich. I don't drive a white van...
Verdict: Appallingly bad. My advice? Only eat this sandwich if your life depends on it.
Rating: 2 out of 10
Today I am trialling Wild Bean Cafe's festive offering. To be fair, I don't mind Wild Bean Cafe. I have tried their steak bakes on a couple of early morning runs and enjoyed them (minus the white van naturally!)
As always the refrigerator in this particular petrol station is in the corner at the back (heaven forbid someone might spot me, right? <wink>) There is a packed cabinet today. Many sandwiches, including the one I'm collecting, are on 50% off "reduced to clear" (it's about to go out of date). I hope this isn't a prophecy of what is to come.
As soon as I see the sandwich, I literally recoil in horror. Is that awful of me? I'm not trying to be judgemental just because I can be and I write a blog review. I honestly do not like the look of this sandwich. The cranberry has a very pink unnatural tinge to it and the lettuce (yes, lettuce, which we all know is a cardinal sin in festive sandwiches) is actually of the iceberg variety <shock> and going brown (wrong on so many levels!) A positive thing I can say though is the packaging is genuinely quite attractive. In an "on trend" postage paper brown box with maroon label at least it's different from the usual red design I am normally greeted with.
I'm not particularly looking forward to this sandwich. I open it up gingerly. I give it a sniff and it has, bizarrely, a distinct whiff of nail polish remover. I promise I'm not making this up. It really smells like that to me. I feel a bit ill. Visually there is plenty of filling. I am not sure if this is a good thing. The bacon looks anaemic. The frightful pink of the cranberry has seeped into the bread and the iceberg lettuce is really bothering me. I'm half inclined to not take a bite at all but fairs, fair in the world of festive sandwich reviews and therefore it would be rude not to. I take a tentative nibble. Two mouthfuls later and I refuse to eat anymore. I can't really describe what this sandwich tastes of. Mostly I think it tastes like the breathing in of strong fumes from industrial cleaning products. Maybe they washed the lettuce in bleach? Or the ink from the cardboard has infiltrated the bread somehow? Who knows? It just does not taste right at all.
As the remains of the sandwich plop into my bin I sum up the benefits. The trial is over. I didn't pay full price. I get to eat something for lunch other than a turkey sandwich. I don't drive a white van...
Verdict: Appallingly bad. My advice? Only eat this sandwich if your life depends on it.
Rating: 2 out of 10
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
Waitrose Roast Turkey with Bacon, Stuffing & Cranberry £3.20
I have always considered Waitrose to be a regular shopping haunt for Yummy Mummys married to Hedge Fund Managers or those who own at least one piece of Barbour clothing. Here I am today in my woolly Barbour hat. Yes, I dressed for the occasion. I am excited to be here after a long drought following the credit crunch and subsequent recession. Gone are the days when I was the care free type who didn't register what the price tag said. Now I am a responsible adult who has watched far too many episodes of "Spendaholics". That, and I have a mortgage the size of the national debt of a small Scandinavian country so needs must.
The very essence of Waitrose screams (or should that be gently points out) quality. From the classic, understated graphics to the spotlessly clean aisles and impeccably dressed staff, it's the sort of place which makes me come over all 1950s house wife, want to crack open my Magimix and get baking bread.
I head for their "Good to Go" section (that's the pre-packed sandwiches and ready made salad refrigerator to you and me). They have a festive range going on here (including ham hock and brie with apples - swanky!) The box, thank the good designers of Waitrose, is NOT red but in fact a speckled white with a small cluster of red and green snowflakes in the top right hand corner. I am suitably impressed. Even the name has been "Waitrosed" and is simply called British Roast Turkey with Bacon, Stuffing & Cranberry. Full marks for style.
The sandwich is bursting with filling. Like a well packed Christmas stocking it is delivering me a visual feast of turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, bacon and... hang on, what's this? Spinach! Spinach! My heart is heavy with dismay. Just say "no" to greenery in our seasonal sarnies! Now I am inspecting this sandwich more closely the stuffing looks a tad on the mushy side.
The smell is certainly there but it isn't rushing out trying to entice me in. It's much more subtle with hints of stuffing and bacon. I take a bite and literally 15 seconds later I am hit with a full on peppery punch. Hmm, perhaps tone down the seasoning a tad? Another bite and more bad news. I am chewing on a mouthful of ghastly gristle. Yuck. I remove the offending cartilege and promptly chuck it in the bin. In reality this could be just very unlucky on Waitrose's part but it should never, ever happen. So far this sandwich is failing to do all the right things. I WANT to like this sandwich so much. It comes from a haven of tranquility. The box was unpredictable. I let out a dreamy sigh when I saw their grammatically correct "6 items or fewer" aisle. Even their signage is well spoken! Come on Waitrose. Make me a sandwich to impress!
Sadly today's sandwich is a paradox of Waitrose's otherwise perfect existence. I am struggling to eat the whole thing. Taking big breaks to read email and sup on a glass of water. I decide to save the rest for later. Dismal but true, it's just not doing it for me. I'm left wondering if this sandwich was swapped at birth?
Verdict: Disappointing. That's all I can say. I'm lost for words <sad face>
Rating: Five out of ten (but I still love you Waitrose!)
The very essence of Waitrose screams (or should that be gently points out) quality. From the classic, understated graphics to the spotlessly clean aisles and impeccably dressed staff, it's the sort of place which makes me come over all 1950s house wife, want to crack open my Magimix and get baking bread.
I head for their "Good to Go" section (that's the pre-packed sandwiches and ready made salad refrigerator to you and me). They have a festive range going on here (including ham hock and brie with apples - swanky!) The box, thank the good designers of Waitrose, is NOT red but in fact a speckled white with a small cluster of red and green snowflakes in the top right hand corner. I am suitably impressed. Even the name has been "Waitrosed" and is simply called British Roast Turkey with Bacon, Stuffing & Cranberry. Full marks for style.
The sandwich is bursting with filling. Like a well packed Christmas stocking it is delivering me a visual feast of turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, bacon and... hang on, what's this? Spinach! Spinach! My heart is heavy with dismay. Just say "no" to greenery in our seasonal sarnies! Now I am inspecting this sandwich more closely the stuffing looks a tad on the mushy side.
The smell is certainly there but it isn't rushing out trying to entice me in. It's much more subtle with hints of stuffing and bacon. I take a bite and literally 15 seconds later I am hit with a full on peppery punch. Hmm, perhaps tone down the seasoning a tad? Another bite and more bad news. I am chewing on a mouthful of ghastly gristle. Yuck. I remove the offending cartilege and promptly chuck it in the bin. In reality this could be just very unlucky on Waitrose's part but it should never, ever happen. So far this sandwich is failing to do all the right things. I WANT to like this sandwich so much. It comes from a haven of tranquility. The box was unpredictable. I let out a dreamy sigh when I saw their grammatically correct "6 items or fewer" aisle. Even their signage is well spoken! Come on Waitrose. Make me a sandwich to impress!
Sadly today's sandwich is a paradox of Waitrose's otherwise perfect existence. I am struggling to eat the whole thing. Taking big breaks to read email and sup on a glass of water. I decide to save the rest for later. Dismal but true, it's just not doing it for me. I'm left wondering if this sandwich was swapped at birth?
Verdict: Disappointing. That's all I can say. I'm lost for words <sad face>
Rating: Five out of ten (but I still love you Waitrose!)
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
Costa Coffee Turkey Feast £3.55 to eat in, £3.05 to take away
For someone who doesn't drink coffee I seem to spend a great deal of my time in coffee shops. Costa Coffee is one of those coffee shops of choice for me. Mainly because I have discovered that on trying and testing all the hot chocolates ever served up in such establishments, theirs is most definitely the best. In addition to that, who doesn't like spending extra money to enjoy a nice slouchy sofa and a cup with a logo while using free wifi? (Yes, I am a capitalist through and through. So sue me!)
So on to the sandwich in question. Costa Coffee's Turkey Feast (oh how original is that name? Yawn!) Neatly lined up in military fashion on their low level open fronted refrigerator I am beginning to be able to instantly hone in on the conspicuous festive red cardboard. This one is adorned with stars. I quite like it to be fair.
Upon opening the sandwich all I can smell is refrigerator. Not the most pleasant aroma to ever grace my senses. However, the sandwich looks generously packed with (100% British) turkey and sweet cured bacon. Although there isn't much evidence of either the sage and onion stuffing or the cranberry sauce the packet is promising me. It doesn't look bad and the description is certainly getting me excited. I hope it tastes better than it smells.
A few bites later and I can barely taste a thing. I may as well be chewing on wallpaper. This sandwich is dazed and confused. It is lost in some sort of flavourless vacuum where not even the abundance of turkey and bacon is saving it from baked good oblivion. I suspect that a mouthful of my finger nails would be more satisfying than this sorry excuse of a sandwich. The (malted brown) bread is dry and cardboardy. The whole thing is beginning to irritate me (more so that I can hear the enduring "kerching" of £3.55 ringing in my ears - I stayed for the hot choc and the comfy sofa ya see!).
Finishing this sandwich was a chore. The last bite leaves me feeling semi triumphant but mostly depressed. I think I'm going to need another lunch.
I down my hot chocolate and make my exit pondering a more relevant choice of name for this sandwich. Not "Turkey Feast" but most definitely "Turkey Fleeced"; a warning to all would be purchasers. I am not Merry Costa'ed at all! Wrong on so many levels. Urgh!
Verdict: Not one of Costa's finest moments. Stick to what you know best i.e. hot drinks and cosy upholstery.
Rating: 4 out of 10 (four points for the box on this occasion!)
So on to the sandwich in question. Costa Coffee's Turkey Feast (oh how original is that name? Yawn!) Neatly lined up in military fashion on their low level open fronted refrigerator I am beginning to be able to instantly hone in on the conspicuous festive red cardboard. This one is adorned with stars. I quite like it to be fair.
Upon opening the sandwich all I can smell is refrigerator. Not the most pleasant aroma to ever grace my senses. However, the sandwich looks generously packed with (100% British) turkey and sweet cured bacon. Although there isn't much evidence of either the sage and onion stuffing or the cranberry sauce the packet is promising me. It doesn't look bad and the description is certainly getting me excited. I hope it tastes better than it smells.
A few bites later and I can barely taste a thing. I may as well be chewing on wallpaper. This sandwich is dazed and confused. It is lost in some sort of flavourless vacuum where not even the abundance of turkey and bacon is saving it from baked good oblivion. I suspect that a mouthful of my finger nails would be more satisfying than this sorry excuse of a sandwich. The (malted brown) bread is dry and cardboardy. The whole thing is beginning to irritate me (more so that I can hear the enduring "kerching" of £3.55 ringing in my ears - I stayed for the hot choc and the comfy sofa ya see!).
Finishing this sandwich was a chore. The last bite leaves me feeling semi triumphant but mostly depressed. I think I'm going to need another lunch.
I down my hot chocolate and make my exit pondering a more relevant choice of name for this sandwich. Not "Turkey Feast" but most definitely "Turkey Fleeced"; a warning to all would be purchasers. I am not Merry Costa'ed at all! Wrong on so many levels. Urgh!
Verdict: Not one of Costa's finest moments. Stick to what you know best i.e. hot drinks and cosy upholstery.
Rating: 4 out of 10 (four points for the box on this occasion!)
Thursday, 17 November 2011
Boots Turkey Feast: £2.60
Boots. It's a chemist. Not a place synonymous with baked goods. Here I buy multi vitamins and replacement mascara, and revel in the number of points I can stack up on my loyalty card. I do not generally buy lunch. Unless I am caught short and cannot be bothered to walk anywhere else. Often I forget they have fridges full of sandwiches et al. Crouching behind the shelves of mild medications the fridges lead a gloomy existence and look as though they are turned off. Their food offering is all a bit "health mad" and verging on the bland for me.
Having said all of that, last year their festive sandwich really impressed me. It was so much more than I was predicting from a company who uses a tape measure design on their packaging. I have high expectations for this year's offering.
So onto the sandwich itself. Yet another one named "Turkey Feast" and placed in a red cardboard box with a seasonal design. This is all getting a bit tiring. Is red the only colour associated with Christmas? I notice even my blog is red dammit! Has Coca-Cola brain washed the world? Boots' box has a little robin red breast drawing. Twee but cute. At least they tried.
I open up my sandwich and wait for a smell to waft out. Nothing. Nada. Nil. I place the sandwich directly under my nose. No aroma at all. This is weird. I keep sniffing and eventually give up. This sandwich has the fragrance of a black hole. It looks ok ish. The bread is very brown. Like it has just stepped off a charter jet from Magaluf. The cranberry is scarily pink looking. Almost halloweenesque (think vampire makeup). The stuffing is mixed with the mayo (horror of all horrors!) and some sorry looking spinach is sticking out of its backside. Here's where I have to say that despite containing spinach this is an improvement on lettuce (spinach being closer to a Christmas dinner vegetable) and I can let Boots off the hook a bit for being health conscious as I imagine that's why you are buying one of their sandwiches in the first place. Still, at least the bacon is a vision of crispiness. I am hoping this sandwich tastes much better than it looks.
Half a sandwich later and it isn't bad but to be honest it doesn't taste of much at all, which is partly why it isn't bad. I'm hardly noticing I'm eating anything. It's the kind of sandwich which is offering me a limp handshake rather than a big flavoursome cuddle. I'm disappointed. I read the box again. Whilst it is admirable that they have removed a whole load of calories, fat content and salt, in doing so they have also pummeled most of the flavour and soul out of this thing. It's a sad state of affairs the day you have to eat a festive sandwich bordering on a diet version. Christmas dinner isn't for dieters! It's for the fully fledged foodies of the world. Save the diet until New Year's Day or buy yourself a fruit salad instead. Christmas dinner has rights too you know!
Verdict: Disappointing but edible. Great for dieters but don't expect it to whack you in the mouth with full on flavour.
Rating: 6.5 out of 10
Having said all of that, last year their festive sandwich really impressed me. It was so much more than I was predicting from a company who uses a tape measure design on their packaging. I have high expectations for this year's offering.
So onto the sandwich itself. Yet another one named "Turkey Feast" and placed in a red cardboard box with a seasonal design. This is all getting a bit tiring. Is red the only colour associated with Christmas? I notice even my blog is red dammit! Has Coca-Cola brain washed the world? Boots' box has a little robin red breast drawing. Twee but cute. At least they tried.
I open up my sandwich and wait for a smell to waft out. Nothing. Nada. Nil. I place the sandwich directly under my nose. No aroma at all. This is weird. I keep sniffing and eventually give up. This sandwich has the fragrance of a black hole. It looks ok ish. The bread is very brown. Like it has just stepped off a charter jet from Magaluf. The cranberry is scarily pink looking. Almost halloweenesque (think vampire makeup). The stuffing is mixed with the mayo (horror of all horrors!) and some sorry looking spinach is sticking out of its backside. Here's where I have to say that despite containing spinach this is an improvement on lettuce (spinach being closer to a Christmas dinner vegetable) and I can let Boots off the hook a bit for being health conscious as I imagine that's why you are buying one of their sandwiches in the first place. Still, at least the bacon is a vision of crispiness. I am hoping this sandwich tastes much better than it looks.
Half a sandwich later and it isn't bad but to be honest it doesn't taste of much at all, which is partly why it isn't bad. I'm hardly noticing I'm eating anything. It's the kind of sandwich which is offering me a limp handshake rather than a big flavoursome cuddle. I'm disappointed. I read the box again. Whilst it is admirable that they have removed a whole load of calories, fat content and salt, in doing so they have also pummeled most of the flavour and soul out of this thing. It's a sad state of affairs the day you have to eat a festive sandwich bordering on a diet version. Christmas dinner isn't for dieters! It's for the fully fledged foodies of the world. Save the diet until New Year's Day or buy yourself a fruit salad instead. Christmas dinner has rights too you know!
Verdict: Disappointing but edible. Great for dieters but don't expect it to whack you in the mouth with full on flavour.
Rating: 6.5 out of 10
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