Thanks to a Scottish sandwich shop there’s now a panini named after the Hollywood hunk. The Metro Sandwich Company devised a tribute to Pitt after the 47-year-old arrived in Glasgow this week to work on filming the post-apocalyptic zombie war movie, World War Z. When Pitt caught wind of the “Brad Pitt Special” from his film crew, the man himself sent his assistant to get the chorizo, salsa and cheddar sandwich, and quite literally ate himself.
So pleased with the nosh, he signed the outdoor poster promoting the mouthful of Pitt, writing “with extra onion and jalapeno…a delight for the senses. Many thx [sic] BP.”
Before you fly off to Scotland in search of this sandwich, I should warn you about my experience with Scottish cuisine. My dad’s mother, the occasional White Castle craver, was born in Port Glasgow, Scotland and came to the U.S. at five or eight or 12, depending on how old she was claiming to be when telling the story. She was a smart, strong and hilarious woman, but an absolutely woeful cook. And every once in a while she’d get a hankering for the old-world cuisine, and on rare occasion she’d subject us to it.
Brutal. I can’t even figure out why Scottish meat pies would be gross, since they’re just pastries stuffed with meat and I’m on the record as loving that stuff. But somehow they’re remarkably dry, and the meat inside is gray and flavorless. Hell, just look at the names of some traditional Scottish cuisines: “Cullen Skink,” “Cock-a-leekie soup,” “Arbroath smokies,” “Collops,” “Clapshot.”
Excuse me for working blue, but is it me or do all of those things sound more like sexually transmitted diseases than foods? (I guess, for that matter, a similar case could be made for the “Brad Pitt Special.”)
And maybe all those things are actually delicious and I’m just biased because of my beautiful, awesome grandmother’s “cooking.” But until I’m convinced otherwise, I’m going to side with the Mike Myers line in So I Married an Axe Murderer? that says, “I believe most Scottish cuisine is based on a dare.”
All that said, a chorizo, salsa and cheddar sandwich sounds like it could be pretty delicious, assuming the chorizo is good.
Oh, one other thing about my grandmother and food: Every year around the second weekend of December, my dad and I went to go set up her Christmas decorations — a remarkably laborious process because she had a huge nativity set made of cement. And every year when we finished, she invited us in for tea and these really dry shortbread cookies she had, the type that come in a plaid tin.
One year I suggested to my dad that I thought she might be putting out the very same cookies every year, so I scratched the date on the back of one that I didn’t eat — 1995. Two years later that same cookie showed up on the plate, looking no worse for the wear. She must have kept them in the freezer, next to the meat pies.