I believe I can trace it’s origins back to a Panini consumed at the small wine bar by our gate at Genoa airport (on our way back from Tuscany). "It" being our recent obsession with Mortadella. To kill time, we planted ourselves at the wine bar and enjoyed several rounds of prosecco. This gave us a bit of the munchies, so we randomly ordered a mortadella panini. We’ve been on a mortadella kick since.
Our mortadella source here in London is the Italian deli across the street from the butchers. We’ll usually pick up 4-6 slices on our Saturday morning Northcote route (except for the time when the deli owner went on vacation for 3 weeks in August - a sad 3 weeks). We’ll head home, put the groceries away, and then prepare for the treat.
Ed’s the official mortadella sandwich maker. He takes a 6 inch piece of baguette, slices a wedge along the side, slathers on mayo, carefully positions the mortadella, and voila, the scrumptious treat’s ready to be eaten. It’s our post-tennis/shopping treat.
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