The chicken tikka club at Jalapeno Afghan Kababs
When I walk into a place like Jalapeno Fresh Mexican Bistro/Jalapeno Afghan Kababs — a mind-bending, multi-headed hydra in Laurel that sells Mexican street foods, Mission-style burritos, Middle Eastern shawarma, Indian chicken tikka masala, Afghan mantu, Pakistani goat karahi and other dishes — I tend to fixate on the one thing that seems most out of place.
Like the chicken tikka club sandwich.
For years, Rana Iqbal supervised a handful of McDonald’s restaurants in the Baltimore and Howard County areas, so the Pakistani native was familiar with the magnetic pull of a signature sandwich by the time he opened Jalapeno Afghan Kababs in March 2021, a few months after he debuted his Mexican bistro in the same space. Iqbal worked with chef Jose Argueta to create the chicken tikka club, a sandwich that somehow brings together food cultures that date back to the stuffy country clubs of 19th-century America and to the Mughal-era kitchens of the Indian subcontinent.
It’s a sandwich that insists we have more to gain than to lose when worlds collide. It’s a sandwich that suggests that something valuable to one culture — sliced chicken breast, lean and susceptible to influence from the other ingredients of a club sandwich — can be enhanced and improved for the enjoyment of all. Argueta and Iqbal have replaced the breast meat with yogurt-marinated thighs, which are charred on the grill, then tucked into your choice of bread: white, wheat or naan. I prefer the white or wheat bread options, mostly because their toasty exteriors add contrast, an important element when everything else in the sandwich offers little resistance.
Jalapeno Afghan Kababs is a halal establishment, so you’ll notice its club variation dumps bacon from the preparation. The chicken tikka — supplemented with mayonnaise, Swiss cheese, lettuce and tomatoes, then generously dusted with sumac — packs so much flavor (and a hint of spice), you won’t miss those crispy strips of cured pork. You really won’t. This is a club sandwich that could open up new worlds for diners, maybe even you.
$12.99 for the sandwich, fries and a soda at Jalapeno Afghan Kababs, 13600 Baltimore Ave., No. 700, Laurel, Md. 240-786-6785; jalapenoafghankababs.com.
Tofu burnt ends banh mi at Federalist Pig
Once a blackened morsel of brisket given away free by Kansas City pitmasters, the traditional burnt end has been largely replaced with a product that demands even more work from a smokehouse crew. The modern burnt end is an effective way to use the entire brisket in a market where customers prefer lean slices to moist ones, but it comes at a cost, however modest: a rewriting and a rewiring of barbecue culture.
Pitmaster Rob Sonderman has pulled burnt ends even further from their origins with a vegetarian banh mi sandwich at the original Adams Morgan location of Federalist Pig. In the early days of the Pig — back when it was a sliver of a space with a modified Southern Pride smoker in the corner — Sonderman worked with chef Jonathan Uribe to create the centerpiece of the sandwich: tofu burnt ends. I guess I should put “burnt ends” in quotes, like they do at white-tablecloth restaurants when a chef’s riff on a familiar dish has only a passing resemblance to the original. You know, like cauliflower “steak.”
Calling them “burnt ends,” the Federalist Pig co-founder told me one morning over breakfast at Murry and Paul’s, was just a way to make vegetarians “feel like they’re a part of the party a little bit more.”
I understand the decision. I also understand that this smokehouse sandwich stands on its own, separate from the more ubiquitous veg options at barbecue joints, like smoked and shredded jackfruit as a stand-in for pulled pork. The tofu burnt ends banh mi — spicy, fragrant, smoky, crispy, meaty — has a personality all its own.
Based on a common Thai street dish — fried tofu with a sweet chili sauce and peanuts — the Pig’s banh mi begins with tofu cubes that are smoked for 45 minutes or so, then flash-fried. The crispy nuggets are promptly tossed in a three-chili rub and the same glaze used for Fed Pig’s superb spare ribs. From there, the tofu burnt ends are layered into a toasted hoagie roll with pickled veggies, cilantro, fried onions, jalapeño relish, chipotle aioli and a sticky garlic barbecue sauce that’s inspired by sweet Thai chili sauce.
You may not think “burnt ends” or even “banh mi” while biting into this beauty. But you will think about it long after it’s gone.
$11 at Federalist Pig, 1654 Columbia Rd., 202-827-4400; federalistpig.com.
The Tacchino sandwich at Bar Boheme
When Alex McCoy thinks about turkey sandwiches, his mind goes to two distinct, if somehow complementary, places: his grandmother’s farm in Leland, Miss., and European sandwich shops. The former is soaked in nostalgia, as McCoy recalls pulling together sandwiches from a freshly roasted turkey that his grandma, Barbara Stott, would place in the fridge for such purposes. The latter shops, to McCoy, are constant reminders about the primacy of local ingredients.
The common denominator? Both trade on simplicity.
McCoy, the chef and founder of Bar Boheme inside Union Market, makes regular visits to his grandmother’s farm and to Europe, including a recent trip to the south of France, where he was reminded, yet again, about the importance of a city’s sandwich culture.
“Every city has a good sandwich shop, or needs a good sandwich shop,” McCoy told me. “It’s like the backbone of almost every food scene.”
When it comes to sandwiches, the Washington area may not have the reputation of Philadelphia, New Orleans or New York, but we have our share of handheld amusements. Bar Boheme, which debuted in January, makes for a brilliant addition to the scene, with its insistence on housemade ingredients, including meats and bread prepared behind a Union Market counter that looks too cramped to accommodate anything more than sandwich assemblage.
The turkey sandwich at McCoy’s shop is called the Tacchino, which may be a bit on the nose for those who speak Italian, or just have access to Google Translate. The dough for the rustic French batard comes from Tribeca Oven, but the staff bakes it fresh at Bar Boheme, making for a crusty loaf that crackles with each bite.
The breast meat is seared first, then vacuum-sealed in a bag with rosemary, lemon thyme, English thyme, garlic and seasonings. The turkey is placed in a water bath and cooked 15 hours until the meat is juicy and aromatic. McCoy complements the bird with even more herbs via a green goddess dressing that’s packed with chervil, parsley, tarragon, chives and sometimes other leaves that the chef plucks from his own garden. The sheer density of herbs makes for a turkey sandwich that feels light on its feet, despite the presence of bacon, aged provolone, potato crisps and other accessories.
For better or for worse, I usually avoid turkey at sandwich shops, but at Bar Boheme, the Tacchino is my No. 1 choice. Every time.
$17 at Bar Boheme, inside Union Market, 1309 Fifth St. NE; barbohemedc.com.