Tag Archives: tea sandwiches

December 10, 2012

Tea sandwiches have no calories

Or at least that was my thinking apparently. Every year, the morning of the English Tea, I vow, as food chairman, I will not partake of the tea sandwiches and sweets even though the Women of St. Paul’s make extras precisely because they know the kitchen crew and servers will pilfer a few here and there.

So here’s how it went this year.

9 a.m.: Pick up chocolate-covered strawberries from my beloved Publix. Buy a bag of carrots to eat during the day so I will not dip into the tea sandwiches.

The Cucumber Sandwich Express - 600 in about an hour and a half

9:30: Head down to Founder’s Hall to help assemble 600 cucumber sandwiches. Snatch just the tiniest piece of shortbread from the sweets trays to ward off hunger pains I am imagining.

10:15: Cucumber sandwiches done and it’s obvious we have more than 600. Quality control must be maintained. I eat two of them.

11 a.m.: Help Marida Stearns with the chocolate mousse cups topped with peppermint sprinkles. We’ve never had these at the tea before so, once again, quality control must be maintained. I eat one.

Noon: We begin plating scones. We made them last week and froze them. How did that work out? I eat half a scone just to make sure. Delicious. Katie Faulkner helpfully admonishes the kitchen staff to eat some lunch so our blood sugar doesn’t take a dive during service. She is a nurse so we feel obliged to take her advice. I move the bag of carrots in the fridge to get to the turkey and arugula mayonnaise sandwiches. My finger happens to graze an egg salad sandwich in the process. I have touched it. I must eat it.

2 p.m.: The first seating is over and the tiers come back to the kitchen. Oh, dear. There are three cucumber sandwiches and four Blue Moon’s on one of the plates. I eat one cucumber sandwich and two Blue Moon’s (a jacked up pimento cheese) because I haven’t tried them yet. Plus a lemon curd tart.

Cranberry Orange Scones

4 p.m.: Second seating starts and that means it is 0-wine-30 in the kitchen. I pour myself some Pinot Grigio and since I have not broken out the carrots yet and have very little food in my stomach, another turkey and arugula. And another chocolate mousse cup.

5:30 p.m.: Second seating ends and the leftovers come back to the kitchen. We offer some to the servers who have been very brave during the seatings and have not snatched a single sandwich off a guest’s plate. The number of leftover cucumber sandwiches is beginning to dwindle. I have a slight panic attack and eat two.

7:15 p.m.: I head home with several baggies of sandwiches and shortbread. And my carrots.

 

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December 2, 2012

Artichoke tea sandwiches

So, of course, I’m obsessing about the English Tea, of which I am the food chairman, all this week. Forgive me.

The line-up for the savories is always the same. Much-beloved recipes that, like our children, defy picking a favorite. We simply cannot do without the curried chicken salad, the Blue Moon’s, the egg salad, turkey and arugula mayonnaise, and the all-time winner, the cucumber sandwiches. It is slightly embarrassing that the kitchen staff gazes longingly at the cucumber sandwiches as they’re placed on the tiers, hoping against hope that someone out in the tea room is allergic to cucumbers. Would we eat a “used” cucumber sandwich that came back to the kitchen? Why, yes we would. Without shame.

If we could ever figure out a way to cram a sixth sandwich on the plate, it would be this one. The recipe is from Saveur and these sandwiches are ridiculously easy to make. But so seductive. So unusual. We will use bigger plates for next year’s tea.

 

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May 20, 2012

When the Bishop comes

Bishop John C. Bauerschmidt makes a pilgrimage to the center of the universe, the kitchen at St. Paul's Episcopal Church.

When the Bishop comes. It’s momentous. It’s a big, big day. It requires weeks of preparation on the part of the Women of St. Paul’s. We go into battle mode and our  arsenal is vast: cucumber sandwiches, pimento cheese, deviled eggs, lemon cupcakes and chicken salad, white meat only naturally. And that’s just for starters.

Of course, the Bishop is not coming to eat. He’s coming to preach, to confirm new members and to baptize babies. As far as food goes, he’d probably be just as happy eating some 7-layer Mexican dip and a few Cheetos. But that’s not how we roll at St. Paul’s. Not. At. All.

Presentation is everything

A few weeks before the Gala Reception – and it’s always called the Gala Reception for reasons I’m unclear about – the word goes out to the Women of St. Paul’s. Each and every year, the food chairman is immediately worried that we will not have enough food. Could you make a few more egg salad sandwiches? How about adding some brownies? Each and every year, we could feed Congress with what ends up on the immaculately decorated tables. It’s a point of pride. We make beautiful food because this is what we do.

Wanda (we made her pose like this) with her floral masterpiece

This is how the day goes. The reception is at 1 p.m. (actually, it was supposed to start at noon but, ahem, the Bishop slightly runs over the normal duration of a sermon). The women have been hard at work since 9 a.m. The massive floral centerpiece has been in place since last night in the middle of the series of tables put together to resemble a cross. How ecclesiastical of us. The centerpiece is the size of a child’s wading pool. Wanda Woolen, who has been elected Chairwoman of Everything for Life, just threw it together using flowers from her garden. Really now. If I did the centerpiece from my garden it would consist of crabgrass and dandelion leaves.

Mini ham biscuits with floral flourishes

Platters start to arrive around 10 a.m. We appreciate the contribution of each and every woman and time associated with assembling 75 cucumber sandwiches or 80 lemon cupcakes. However, some of the presentation is not quite…uh…up to standards. I won’t go into details here. Let’s just say that Leslie Frasier, the presentation architect of the women’s group, has come armed with clusters of grapes, ivy leaves, hydrangeas and other decorative flourishes to assure that the Bishop, who won’t notice, notices. Cheetos. The man just wanted some Cheetos.

Leslie (yes, I made her pose for this, too) adds a final touch to a plate

Actually, I did some reconnaissance of the Bishop’s plate as I was leading him to the kitchen for a photo opportunity with the women who make it all happen. Three shrimp tails. A dab of cocktail sauce. That was it.  Unlike some of us (me), who roamed the buffet tables like a starving hyena, pausing momentarily to appreciate the neatly arranged sprigs of parsley intertwined around the chicken salad phyllo cups.

At the end of the reception, we are well pleased with ourselves, even though we are led as Christians to practice humility. We can be humble in the real world. We’re allowed just a wee bit of self-satisfaction within the confines of Otey Hall. We are fools for God. Fools for the God who appreciates a well-executed deviled egg plate.

 

 

 

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April 29, 2011

Champagne, cigarettes and a facial

It was lovely and it went off without a hitch. The Wedding Party was a complete success. I understand the Royal Wedding went as planned also. Bravo.

JoAnn and I arose at 4 a.m. to listen to Piers Morgan discussing one of the early arrivals at Westminster Abbey, a lower level royal who apparently had publicly suffered from a slight substance abuse problem. Piers told the world that she had enjoyed a wicked cocaine habit that destroyed her nose, which had to be redone. Here, here. Commentary for the modern era.

So we started with JoAnn’s heart-shaped scones and some coffee with a shot of Glenlivet. Cheerio, indeed. We are very much enjoying David Beckham arriving wearing his Office of the British Empire medal pinned to the wrong side of his chest and the wife of the British prime minister showing up with a hair clip instead of a hat, which did not conform to protocol. It’s going to be a good day and it’s not even light yet.

About the time Sir Elton John arrives, looking a little unsteady on his feet I might say, it is time to break out the Champagne. I should reveal at this point that we did not snap photos of each other during the Wedding Party, thereby encouraging a comparison of the royal guests to the members of the Wedding Party, who were not, I will admit, at our most photogenic. However, while the royal guests were stuck sitting in their tiny seats for an hour with nothing to drink or eat, we were sipping Champagne and one of us was slipping outside for a smoke, also not encouraged at Westminster Abbey. As you may be able to tell it is still dark out and we’re already indulging in unfortunate behaviors.

However, we were a little peckish so we decided to serve the tea sandwiches: Blue Moons, cucumber and almond/egg salad. We understand that the guests at the royal reception were expected to eat 15 canapes each, so we decide that would be an appropriate allotment for us as well. By the way, Kate and Will are doing an outstanding job at this moment. The Queen looks as though she might have fallen asleep, but then we realize she is just deeply studying her program.

And then, all of a sudden it seems, it’s over. The royal entourage has arrived at Buckingham Palace, Kate and Will have delivered the royal “first” kiss ( we had hoped for something a little juicier, but no matter) and now poor Piers is recapping for the 275th time that this a new dawn for the monarchy.

“What did we do after Charles and Di’s wedding,” JoAnn asks. “Did I just go home?”

We decide to go to the spa. I am not normally a spa person, but this is a special occasion and I decide to get a facial, which I realize will not relieve the inequities of time that have marched across my face but, again, no matter. After filling out a form that attests to the fact that I have no open wounds or communicative diseases, I am asked by my facialist (if that is a word)  to take off my clothes and put on a spa robe. Oh, no. This is precisely why I opted for a facial instead of a massage. So I would not have to take off my clothes. I did and put on the robe and, once in the facial room, realize that the preheated warm bed would not feel nearly as good with clothes on. I am completely a mass of ooze when the facial is over and, inexplicably, purchase $84 worth of beauty products, the purpose of which escapes me.

So, it’s been a good day. Champagne, scones, scotch, tea sandwiches, warm bed, facial and beauty products. Just what I always imagined this special day would be all about. Sharing a second Royal Wedding with a good friend of more than 30 years who did not miss the fact that Kate’s veil was covering her face when she entered Westminster Abbey but mysteriously was pulled back in the next shot. That kind of thing bothers JoAnn. Good girl.

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February 18, 2011

Cream cheese and walnut sandwiches

This is going to be a long way to get to Martha Dorney’s funeral. But I’ll try to make it as brief as possible.

I have a lot of cookbooks, more than I will need in a lifetime. And every once in awhile I crack an old one open. A few days ago, I rediscovered Marcia Adams’ Heirloom Recipes. Marcia used to have a cooking show on PBS that I was devoted to and I love her Midwestern culinary point of view. So I am reading her cookbook again and I wonder whatever happened to her. So I Google her.

It turns out she died not eight days ago. And it sounds like what got left off her obituary makes for a sad story. She wrote a blog and in her last blog entry sometime in 2010 she talked about writing a novel involving a battered wife. In her books, she talked extensively about her husband, Dick. But in the obituary there is no mention of him at all. Novel? Maybe not.

Now to Martha. Martha Dorney was a beloved member of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. She was a woman who quietly went about doing good works. Quick with a smile and a hug, Martha was the embodiment of a good Christian woman and that is saying quite a bit in my humble opinion. Unlike Marcia Adams (apparently, I should say), Martha was married to a devoted husband, also named Dick, who died a few years ago. Mark remarked on learning of Martha’s passing, “The happiest man in Heaven today is Dick Dorney.” Truer words were never spoken.

Yes, there is food involved here because it is an Episcopal funeral and reception, after all. Martha’s funeral is today. The silver is out and polished for the reception. I am heading to church in an hour to help set up the tables, lay out our finest tablecloths and arrange the reception food. It does not take more than five minutes for the reception train to leave the station after word of someone’s passing is received. It’s automatic, like answering a phone on the first ring.

When I was carefully considering what to make for the reception, I went back to Marcia Adams’ cookbook and found her cream cheese and walnut sandwiches. It’s an unusual recipe I’d never seen before. So I made the sandwiches. They’re delicious. I mean really, really good. Fitting to celebrate the life of two very good women.

Marcia Adams’ cream cheese and walnut sandwiches

12 ounces cream cheese, softened

½ cup ground toasted walnuts (baked at 375 degrees for 7-8 minutes)

2 tablespoons finely minced parsley

1 tablespoon finely minced green pepper

1 tablespoon finely minced onion

1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

¼ teaspoon grated nutmeg

Salt and pepper to taste

24 slices thin white bread, crusts removed

Softened butter

Beat the cream cheese and the next seven ingredients until well combined. Spread each slice of bread with butter. Top one slice with cream cheese mixture and end with another slice, butter side down. Cut into triangles.

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December 13, 2010

Tea sandwiches

I will modestly say that the 2010 English Tea was a smashing success. Stay with me here. Recipes will follow.

I know I have written about the tea extensively, but for those of you who don’t know, the women (and one man) of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church put on an elaborate tea every December. Tickets are much sought after and the tea sells out about a week after the tickets go on sale. The tea is headed by “She Who Must Be Obeyed” Wanda Woolen. Here she is surveying the tables between seatings. Everything must be perfect. Nothing is left to chance. If you tend to be on the shy side or your feelings are easily hurt it’s best that you not serve on the tea committee.

There is strict adherence to the line of demarcation between the kitchen crew and the servers in the tea room. And not even Wanda is allowed to cross that line. That’s because there’s no room.

Here are the “Back Hall Generals,” Leslie and Sandra. They are in charge of moving the 250 tea tiers from the kitchen to the servers. You do not enter their space during service. YOU DO NOT. I feared for my life just snapping this photo and ran quickly back into the kitchen after I did.

I will say that very few people aspire to be a Back Hall General, but many contend for the kitchen slots because there is alcohol involved. We are Episcopalians, after all, and it is not at all uncommon to find wine and beer in the church refrigerator. And after four hours of non-stop plating and dish washing between seatings, we need a little nip.

The kitchen crew is hand-selected every year based on several factors. The first is self-sufficiency. We move at lightning speed during the tea and the indecisive are not allowed. The kitchen crew must also be able to deal immediately with impending disaster such as a tier getting dropped in the tea room (it rarely happens, but it does) or an odd request for a teapot of plain hot water because someone brought their own tea (it happened this year). And they must be constantly cheery and funny. No whiners allowed.

Somewhere around the end of the first seating or just after the second seating food has gone out, we break out the wine. Gerald Hancock, the only man allowed in the English Tea kitchen and the chief tea brewer, brings it every year.

Here he is, part of the communal back rub after the tea is over. We are all very happy. The tea went off flawlessly. We have had a few Styrofoam cups of vino. Gerald survived a life-threatening scalding of boiling water (did you know that if you rub plain yellow mustard on a burn that it will soothe the pain?). And clean-up is over.

Wanda was pleased. I believe I will be able to retain my position as Food Chairman next year. We will most definitely have the cucumber sandwiches again. And the heavenly egg salad and curried chicken salad. The shortbread was divine. And the pecan tarts? Unbelievable.

Two of the perennial favorites are the Smoked Turkey with Arugula Mayonnaise and the Blue Moons. Without further ado, the recipes. Enjoy a little wine with them.

Smoked Turkey Tea Sandwiches

12 thin slices firm white bread, crusts trimmed

Arugula Mayonnaise

10 ounces smoked Boar’s Head turkey, thinly sliced

Spread one side of each bread slice thinly with arugula mayonnaise. Layer ½ of the bread slices with equal portions of the turkey and top with remaining bread slices mayonnaise side down. Press lightly to adhere. Cut each sandwich diagonally into quarters. Makes 24 sandwiches.

Arugula Mayonnaise

½ cup mayonnaise

1 cup packed coarsely chopped arugula

1 tablespoon minced shallots

½ teaspoon grated lemon zest

Salt and pepper to taste

Combine the mayonnaise, arugula, shallots and lemon zest in a bowl and mix well. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

 

Blue Moon Cheese Sandwiches

2 cups finely grated sharp New York Cheddar cheese
1/3 cup chili sauce
3/4 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup chopped stuffed olives
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1 teaspoon Worcestershire

Mix together well and chill before using. Trim crust off whole wheat bread and spread with mixture. Cut into 4 triangles.

 

 

 

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April 19, 2010

The bishop is coming, part two

O.K., ya’ll. It occurred to me last night as I was frantically cutting bread rounds that if I don’t completely detail the finishing of the cucumber sandwiches, this culinary knowledge might be lost if I keel over tomorrow from a cream cheese overdose. See previous post before reading on.

The bread must be white and these sandwiches actually work better of it’s the “Wonder Bread” type of white bread. Cut them with a small biscuit cutter. There will be a lot of waste. Make homemade breadcrumbs with the leftovers.

The cucumbers that go on top of the sandwich must be thinly sliced and dried on paper towels to get the excess moisture out. Do you think I’m being to anal here? No, I am not. There is a right way and a wrong way.

So here’s what they should look like. Bread, cream cheese filling, cucumber round, dried dill. It’s better with fresh, but there’s a limit to what I can do Saturday night after a BBQ contest.

So I have to show you a few pictures of the reception food before the event started. Church ladies in general are good at receptions, but I have to say Episcopal church ladies are exceptionally good at receptions. We’re practically born with the ability.

Here’s Julie Reinhardt mixing the punch. She looks all happy and calm here, but it’s a facade. She is at the head of the pack of Type A women and when there was a lull in the preparations due to a lack of anything to actually do, she completely reorganized  the utensil drawers in the kitchen. And not a single one of us thought that was odd. Please note in front of the punch bowl are homemade macaroons.

There was some debate about whether wine should be served at a noon reception. That lasted for about two minutes.

Of course, wine will be served. Didn’t Jesus set that precedent? This is a religious event, after all. Who are we to argue with Jesus? We did have an adult at the wine table to make sure the privilege wasn’t abused. We do have some standards in that area.

And, here, after their long journey from raw ingredients lovingly crafted in the Mayhew kitchen to reception table at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church are the cucumber sandwiches. On silver, of course.

They are always the first to go. People can’t seem to get enough of cucumber sandwiches.

So why is this important? The bishop’s reception is a small example of doing things right. It is becoming a lost art in this country. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a cucumber sandwich or building a car. It needs to be done right. I heard on the radio the other day that General Motors knew for 30 years that it was building shoddy cars. They actually got Toyota to come over and show them how to do it right. And then, of course, Toyota got found out. It’s very confusing. How hard is it to do it right? If Episcopal women built cars (which they wouldn’t – far too messy), those vehicles would run forever. And everything would be color coordinated.

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December 14, 2009

The back hall nazi

Well, the tea was a tremendous success! There were a few snafus but no major disasters, thanks in large part to the back hall nazi.

You have to kind of get a mental picture of this. St. Paul’s has a small kitchen separated from a large social hall by a narrow hallway. There is a strict rule that the servers are not allowed in the kitchen and the kitchen crew cannot breach the sanctity of the social hall where the tea is held. There’s really no room.  So someone must keep order. That is the role of the back hall nazi.

Her name is Leslie Fraser and she is the daughter of Wanda Woolen, the tea chairman. This creates some tension all its own because Wanda is the worst offender of violating the rule. Ten minutes before the first seating yesterday, Wanda crossed the line into the kitchen. “Wanda!” Leslie commanded. “Get out!” Niceties go out the window during tea service.

Leslie commands her narrow space. In the kitchen, we are frantically putting together 250 individual phyllo cups filled with curried chicken salad. Gerald Hancock, the lone man allowed in the food preparation area, is in charge of the actual tea (he’s also in charge of bringing the wine, which he points out makes him the only indispensable member of the tea team.

On the other side of the hall is chaos, as the servers line up to receive the tiers of savories and sweets and the pots of tea. The servers all wear white lace aprons. Don’t they look stressed out here? It’s because they know we’re slugging down the Chardonnay in the kitchen and there’s none for them until after service ends. You can’t see it, but Leslie is just on the other side of the line of servers. They are scared of her. You can see it in their faces, can’t you?

Well, it just goes like clockwork because of the back hall nazi. The tiers are precisely lined up by table number. They go out like good soldiers along with the tea. Everyone is happy because there are no mistakes and no uncalled for drama.

The tea is probably the highlight of the holiday season for me. It is a grand gesture of historic Southern gentility. It brings together people who bond for a few hours in a unique way. It is all about the pleasure of our guests, the precision of our skills, and catching each other if we happen to stumble along the way.  And a few Dixie cups of Chardonnay. The hall nazi partook once she’d commanded her troops. She deserved every sip.

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December 11, 2009

‘I’m just persnickety’

Isn’t persnickety a good word? It means being fussy about details and it is Wanda Woolen’s favorite word the week before the English Tea at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Franklin, Tennessee. Southern women, in general, are persnickety about things. We like our pimento cheese made a certain way.  We’re very fussy about Christmas sweaters (they can tend toward the tacky if you don’t watch out). We always run our fingers over the type on wedding invitations to make sure they’re hand engraved.

But nothing tops Episcopal women and the English Tea in the persnickety department. Here is Wanda, the tea chairman, trimming the  mantle of Otey Hall, where the tea takes place. She has rearranged the nandina until every leaf is just so. She is smiling, but it is a forced smile. She’s still not happy with the ribbons.

The tree is covered in copper ornaments to complement the color of the nandina. Dannie Lature and Lucetta Mannion have been working on that tree for three hours. It is quite possibly the prettiest tree in Williamson  County. Even with that, when the head decorator, Susan Miller, comes back she starts rearranging the copper balls. Persnickety.

I have been persnickety as well the day before the tea. My friend and food co-chairman, Anne Evans, and I have been all over Franklin. We went to the Publix for the lemons and sugar cubes. You cannot serve granulated sugar at an English tea. It’s just not done. Then we go to the Costco for grapes. The grapes at the Publix didn’t look, well, perfect. Costco always has perfect grapes. I think they’re genetically engineered.

Then it’s to the Franklin Tea Shop for special tea bags. You don’t think we use Lipton, do you? No, siree. We use loose Assam tea that has to be spooned meticulously into these special tea bags. Here is Anne with bag in one hand and teaspoon in the other. Not a measuring spoon, for goodness sake. An actually teaspoon. How do you think it got that name? We’re storing the filled tea bags in a giant colander, which is definitely not persnickety, but nobody’s going to see that anyway.

By tomorrow morning, all the decorating will be done and you will not believe how beautiful the room will look. I’ll have pictures. An army of women will have dropped off trays of precisely made tea sandwiches. Every one will be perfect. Carolyn Savage will have brought her shortbread, which is truly a masterpiece. Donna Stokes-Rogers will have left her apricot rosemary scones and you don’t even want to contemplate how perfect they will be.

You might be tempted to come to the conclusion that we are all a bunch of flighty Southern women whose priorities are slightly out of whack. But here’s the thing. The tea sells out every year. Almost 300 guests come to two seatings. At the end of the day, we make a lot of money at this and it all goes to keep our historic church in good shape. St Paul’s was completed in 1834. It has been lovingly preserved for the last 175 years. That’s a lot of persnickety to live up to. But we’re up to the task.

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October 24, 2009

Sister, sister

It was about 9 a.m. today, as the P.E.O. Sisterhood was setting up for our annual Green Tea to raise money for women in education, when everything just stopped. Some of us were setting up the tables and some of us were still bringing in food when we heard a crash in the kitchen. And I don’t mean like dropping a pot on the kitchen floor. I mean like someone had taken a bowling ball and hurled it through the wall. We all froze and then we ran. And there was Clara Dean Finley on the floor. Flat on the floor.

We are a group that is accustomed to injury. Especially at the tea. Last year, Kathy Ulezelski went to the store to get the mixed nuts she’d forgotten and slipped and broke her arm in the parking lot. That girl came back and went all the way through pouring tea and fixing tea sandwich trays before she told anyone.

So we get Clara Dean up and into a chair and get some ice packs for her head and her leg. She’d gone head first into the ice maker door and, of course, the linoleum floor was not forgiving when she fell on her leg. But here she is, looking pretty beautiful for someone who’d just smashed into an ice maker. DSCN0595I mean really. Just look at her. A true Southern belle, striking the pose. Only the hand behind her head is holding a baggie full of ice and the hand on her hip is doing the same. That’s why they call us Steel Magnolias.

The thing about my Sisters is that they’ve always, always, got your back. Just like Kathy, Clara Dean declared that she was just fine and could jump right up and get to arranging tea sandwiches. But we would have none of it. We called her husband and packed her off to the emergency room for an MRI. The last thing she said as Wayne was carting her off was to make sure we warmed up the silver teapots for ten minutes before we put the tea in them. That girl’s a trooper.

Well, the tea turned out fine.

DSCN0601Here’s the tea committee just before we opened the doors. That’s Kathy to the left of me, the one who broke her arm last year. Carole’s right in front of me. Talk about injury. She walked through an open basement door in the dark a few years ago. You don’t even want to think about that.

You know that thing about blood being thicker than water? Well, that may be true but I can tell you that the devotion of P.E.O. Sisters is a pretty close second.

So now I’m going to give you the recipe to the number one tea sandwich we served today. We probably ate more of them in the kitchen than we served to the guests. Clara Dean, I’d like to say we saved one for you. But, honey, we didn’t.

Smoked Turkey Tea Sandwiches

12 thin slices firm white bread, crusts trimmed

Arugula Mayonnaise

10 ounces smoked turkey, thinly sliced

Spread one side of each bread slice thinly with arugula mayonnaise. Layer ½ of the bread slices with equal portions of the turkey and top with remaining bread slices mayonnaise side down. Press lightly to adhere. Cut each sandwich diagonally into quarters. Makes 24 sandwiches.

Arugula Mayonnaise

½ cup mayonnaise

1 cup packed coarsely chopped arugula

1 tablespoon minced shallots

½ teaspoon grated lemon zest

Salt and pepper to taste

Combine the mayonnaise, arugula, shallots and lemon zest in a bowl and mix well. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

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