If you like driving — not driving to see stuff, just driving for the sake of driving — Florida is a nice place to be. Lots of flat, straight highways. I read about this sandwich in the excellent book Roadfood, so I took the hour-some trip down to West Palm Beach to enjoy it.

The sandwich: Media Noche from Havana Restaurant, West Palm Beach, FL

The construction: Roast pork, ham, swiss cheese, pickles and mustard on sweet bread — not like the brains or whatever, like bread that is sweet.

Important background information: It is the bread that distinguishes the Media Noche from the classic Cuban — a Cuban is served on Cuban bread, and I believe this bread is of Portuguese origin. Havana also serves a Cuban sandwich, and Cuban communities also enjoy Medianoche sandwiches. They are so named because they are popular in nightclubs around midnight. Havana Restaurant has a walk-up window that’s open 24 hours. I was there for an early dinner, around 5:30 p.m.

The pickles and mustard were both optional, but I took ’em both, because duh. I ordered it with a side of fried plantains, which will come into play later.

What it looks like:

How it tastes: Delectable. The pork was tender, the ham hammy, the cheese gooey and melted. The pickles and mustard added tons of vinegary goodness, and the bread was amazing — soft, sweet, eggy, kind of like Challah I suppose, but longer. And it withstood the pressures and greases of the meat, a very important quality for good sandwich bread.

But while the saltiness of the pork and ham and the various vinegar flavors played well together, I found myself wanting a little something more in the flavor department — not that it wasn’t really good as constructed, only that it could have been downright great with like one more taste or texture in there. The Swiss cheese got overpowered a bit by the pickles and pork and, since the pickles were a little soggy and the bread was so soft, it didn’t offer a great variety of textures.

So after my first half sandwich I started tinkering. I dashed on a little Tabasco since it was on the table. Didn’t do anything crazy —  just tasted like this sandwich and also Tabasco, not like the Tabasco was doing anything to amplify the flavors in the sandwich.

Then I looked to my fried plantains. They came, I should note now, with something Havana calls “Mojo sauce,” which was basically olive oil with some herbs and an absolute ton of minced garlic — enough to make it almost spicy, but spicy of garlic. Amazing tasting, provided you’re over 1000 miles from your wife and not planning on making out with anyone. Actually, this would be amazing tasting even if you were planning on making out with someone, it just wouldn’t be advised.

Maybe this is somehow cheating, but I threw a couple of the fried plantains atop the Media Noche and spooned on a little of the Mojo sauce. And holy hell, did this sandwich sing.

The plaintains, fried crispy like potato chips but hearty enough to stay extremely crunchy while holding the oil, added the texture I longed for. And the Mojo sauce, though it added oil to an already-greasy sandwich, gave the whole thing this outstanding kick, a burst of pungent garlicky awesome to counter the vinegar and follow all that pork. Outrageous.

What it’s worth: Oh yeah, that’s the other thing. The Media Noche cost $5.89. I sat down, had a glass of sangria* and the plantains, so the whole thing wound up costing me $20 with tip, but you’re not obligated to do any of those things at the pick-up window.

How it rates: I feel obligated to rate the sandwich as constructed — adding anything more than condiments to a sandwich makes it a new sandwich, and the fried plantains count as more than a condiment. So this puppy gets a still-respectable 84 out of 100.

One of my No. 1 all-time good-weather songs:

*- Why is it that I feel so much more comfortable eating a meal and having a drink alone in a restaurant in tropical locales?