table talk / By Bob Doran

Pan Bagna

A savory little sandwich from the south of France

(March 27, 2008)  It wasn’t what you typically expect at a birthday party for a 5-year-old. Sure there were hot dogs on the grill for the kids, but there was also an absolutely scrumptious spread of food aimed at the parents in attendance. Among the morsels prepared in advance by Diane, a marvelous cook (and the mother of young Max), was a platter of savory finger sandwiches she identified as pan bagna.

Diane’s version drew from a couple of recipes, one she’d clipped out of the New York Times food section and another she’d read in Elizabeth David’s first cookbook, Mediterranean Food.

Pan bagna and kalamata olives. Photo by Bob Doran.

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David’s recipe was inspired by a classic sandwich served in the Provence region on the south coast of France. The British author would write of pan bagna in other cookbooks, offering different takes on the theme. And that’s fine, since what goes into the sandwich is, for the most part, up to you. The basic idea is in the name: pan is bread; bagna (or sometimes bagnat) is bath, in this case the bread is bathed in olive oil (well, sort of). We’ll get to what’s inside soon enough. But first a little bit about Ms. David.

Born in England in 1913, Elizabeth Gwynne David came from a rich, powerful family (her father was a Conservative MP). Of course, Great Britain has never really been known for its cuisine; Elizabeth’s interest in food was piqued when she left England to attend school at the Sorbonne in Paris and lived for a couple of years with a French family. She would later spend years as a bonne vivante, bouncing around the Mediterranean, living in Italy, again in France and in Greece. When World War II struck and Greece was invaded, she made her way to Crete, then to Egypt, where she married a military man. The marriage did not last, and when the war ended she was back in England on her own.

She became a food writer, first working for magazines like Harper’s, then eventually landing a book contract. Mediterranean Food, first published in 1950, was influential in its day, stirring an interest in country-style cooking and in then-exotic ingredients like eggplants and olive oil. She followed with French Country Cooking in 1951, Italian Food in 1954 and Summer Cooking in 1955. Her emphasis on simple preparations, fresh ingredients and bold flavors bordered on revolutionary in ‘50s England. And the ideas she laid out resonated through time, resurfacing when California chefs were stirring things up in the ‘70s, and continuing today. Ask a chef like Alice Waters who influenced her and she will invariably cite Elizabeth David.

So, back to the pan bagna. I should note that the 5-year-old Max is now 20-something. The birthday party was long enough ago that I have no clear recollection of exactly what was in Diane’s little sandwiches, although she gave me some basic guidelines. I’ve since developed my own recipe and method, although almost every time I make them they’re at least slightly different. And I’ve made a lot of pan bagna. When my parents celebrated their golden wedding anniversary I catered the event (with help from my siblings) and assembled tray after tray of the finger sandwiches. They’ve become a standard choice for potlucks, where someone will invariably ask: ‘What’s in these, and how do you make them?’

It’s not the way Elizabeth did it, but I start with baguettes, either from Brio or Ramone’s — what kind is up to you, as long as they are not seeded. Cut the long baguette lengthwise, but not all the way through. Open it up and lay it on a cutting board crust side up. Peel a large clove of garlic and rub it on the bread crust as if you were drawing on it with a crayon, thus impregnating the bread with raw garlic. Now turn the bread over. Sprinkle the inside liberally with olive oil and a little bit of balsamic vinegar. If you like garlic, you can take the rest of the clove and another, mash them and dice them superfine and rub more garlic inside.

From here on out the various ingredients are optional. I usually start with some chopped, pitted, flavorful olives: kalamatas are good; any of Henry’s various olives will work as well. A pre-made tapenade is great if you’re in a hurry.

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