As a teen, I worked at a local sub sandwich joint. It wasn’t uncommon to get requests for mayonnaise and these sandwiches got a bit on the top bun. Requests for extra mayo got a smear on the top and bottom buns. A rare few customers insisted on extra extra extra mayonnaise. Ludicrous volumes of mayo. I always asked them if they were sure, informing them it was going to be a lot, probably too much. Informed consent and all. I made something special for these misguided souls: the mayo trough.
They’d get the standard extra mayo smear on the bottom bun, but the top bun was where the magic happened. I’d press a concavity into the inside of the bun, completely fill it in with mayonnaise (a foot long sandwich took about 1/3 cup), then gently nestle it atop the fillings. When they’d bite into their sandwich, they were rewarded for their foolishness by it spurting mayonnaise and other condiments everywhere, like a culinary Peter North unloading into a roast beef sandwich.
Where I work now, we have a regular customer who is like that but with oil and vinegar. We have a single bottle that the oil and vinegar go in, which we shake before squirting it on the sandwich because, you know, the two famously don’t like to mix. There’s a very fine tip on it of course, and normally a sandwich gets a few passes back and forth for coverage.
It took a little while to find where the line for enough was with the customer, but eventually I worked out that just unscrewing the cap, which leaves about a finger sized opening, and dumping that across the sandwich top and bottom, with a little overrun on the sides, finally stopped the requests for more. I still give him an extra side cup just in case. That dude just loves him a soggy, oily and vinegar-y mess of a sub.
I worked at a deli for years, and I would lather both sides of the bread with mayo and then give them mayo packets. I hate mayonnaise and never even wanted to guess where the “too much” line is crossed
This brings back a memory of earlier depravity.
As a teen, I worked at a local sub sandwich joint. It wasn’t uncommon to get requests for mayonnaise and these sandwiches got a bit on the top bun. Requests for extra mayo got a smear on the top and bottom buns. A rare few customers insisted on extra extra extra mayonnaise. Ludicrous volumes of mayo. I always asked them if they were sure, informing them it was going to be a lot, probably too much. Informed consent and all. I made something special for these misguided souls: the mayo trough.
They’d get the standard extra mayo smear on the bottom bun, but the top bun was where the magic happened. I’d press a concavity into the inside of the bun, completely fill it in with mayonnaise (a foot long sandwich took about 1/3 cup), then gently nestle it atop the fillings. When they’d bite into their sandwich, they were rewarded for their foolishness by it spurting mayonnaise and other condiments everywhere, like a culinary Peter North unloading into a roast beef sandwich.
We didn’t get a lot of repeat requests.
Where I work now, we have a regular customer who is like that but with oil and vinegar. We have a single bottle that the oil and vinegar go in, which we shake before squirting it on the sandwich because, you know, the two famously don’t like to mix. There’s a very fine tip on it of course, and normally a sandwich gets a few passes back and forth for coverage.
It took a little while to find where the line for enough was with the customer, but eventually I worked out that just unscrewing the cap, which leaves about a finger sized opening, and dumping that across the sandwich top and bottom, with a little overrun on the sides, finally stopped the requests for more. I still give him an extra side cup just in case. That dude just loves him a soggy, oily and vinegar-y mess of a sub.
The messier it is, the better it tastes
I worked at a deli for years, and I would lather both sides of the bread with mayo and then give them mayo packets. I hate mayonnaise and never even wanted to guess where the “too much” line is crossed
There isn’t one
Dump it all on me, baby