Artichoke and Butter Sandwich? S’il Vous Plaît!

It’s That Simple is our series about recipes so easy, you can make them with your eyes closed. Think tiny ingredient lists, laid-back techniques, and results so delicious you’ll text home about them.Admittedly, there were more important things to do. Get to the airport on time, for one. But there was a larger force at play, a gravitational pull luring me from my hotel in Paris back to Le Petit Vendôme, the bistro that I had been to mere days before. I needed one last jambon beurre sandwich for the plane.I read about this restaurant on cookbook author David Lebovitz’s eminent blog. In a post from 2011, he declared it had “the best sandwich in Paris.” And that was all I needed to know. As a longtime fan of Lebovitz’s work—and, well, sandwiches—I practically ran there. My order was predetermined.A jambon beurre is synonymous with Paris itself. It has just a few ingredients: a baguette baked that morning, ruffles of salty ham, and a layer of butter so thick that, when you bite into it, teeth marks are left behind. (In Danish, there’s a word for this, tandsmør, literally “tooth butter.”) Many versions of this pared-down classic stop right there. Others—my preference—add a swipe of Dijon and a smattering of sliced cornichons, for a kick of spice and jolt of acidity.In theory, this should be easy to replicate back home. All of these ingredients are available at the average American supermarket. And high-quality versions are out there if you put in even a little effort. (I live within walking distance of a crackly-crusted, open-crumbed baguette that could stand on its own two feet in France.)What’s impossible to imitate is the je ne sais quoi. That feeling you get from being in Paris, on vacation, in a bistro, watching one of the greatest sandwich makers in the world assembling a jambon beurre, and handing it to you. The sort of otherworldly experience that you tell your children about 47 years later.So I won’t even try. The ham is out the window. I rarely work with meat at home anyway. What I do have around, always, are jarred marinated artichokes (I love the ones from Trader Joe’s). These have a meaty texture and inherent umami, both amplified by a quick trip under the broiler. It’s not ham, but it’s not trying to be. As with people, the greatest confidence comes from being yourself, not from trying to imitate someone else.The rest of the sandwich is as God intended: the freshest baguette you can get your paws on, an obscene amount of butter (do not reduce the quantity), and just enough mustard and pickles to keep your attention. A glass of wine is optional, of course. But go ahead and pretend you’re on vacation. Pourquoi pas?A slightly unhinged vegetarian version of the classic Parisian sandwich.View Recipe