Sandwiches

As soon as you place your order at Pita Pockets in Northridge, a cook slaps a soft round of dough onto the wall of a blazing tandoor-like oven. After a few moments, a bubbly disk of laffa, catacombed with air pockets and rich with yeasty char, is ready to be filled. Next a counterman slathers the chewy flatbread with lemony hummus, then loads it with grilled vegetables or juicy marinated kebabs.

Nonstop canapés on gold-rimmed porcelain cocktail plates at diplomatic soirees. After a while, they get to be just a bit of a yawn, don't you find? So I cheered at the announcement that the G-20 summit would take place this week in Pittsburgh. Anyone puzzled about why it was selected hasn't been here recently. President Obama noted that Pittsburgh has "transformed itself from the city of steel to a center for high-tech innovation -- including green technology, education and training, and research and development."

Milton Parker, 90, the longtime owner of New York's famous Carnegie Deli, renowned for its gargantuan pastrami, tongue and chopped liver sandwiches with such names as "Nova on Sunday" and "50 Ways to Love Your Liver," died Jan. 31 in Queens of respiratory problems, said his daughter, Marian Levine. His family says nothing will change at the legendary deli in Manhattan's Theater District, where Woody Allen filmed scenes for "Broadway Danny Rose." Over the years, the restaurant has developed a devoted following for its oversized sandwiches stuffed with meat, some costing more than $20 and named after celebrities including comedian Henny Youngman.

Bargain hunters in a grocery store northeast of Paris squint as they scan figures stamped on shrink-wrapped chunks of Gruyere and bags of green olives. They're not zeroing in on the price, certain to be low in a place that specializes in surplus goods from big-name supermarket chains. They want the "use by" date. Just one day remains before the cheese is past its prime. The olives have just crossed their threshold. And shoppers are snapping them up. Buying expired food sounds like culinary blasphemy in a place like France, where many already fear the cherished art of preparing and indulging in a good meal -- so central to the nation's self-image -- is slowly evaporating.

Southern fried chicken? Check. Coleslaw? Check. Potato salad? Check. Tapenade and crostini? Check. The best brownie recipe I know? Packed. Corkscrew, wine, stemless wineglasses? Present. For me, one of the best parts about going to the Bowl is planning the meal with friends. It's usually a group effort, with menus and recipes bandied about endlessly. But on a night when you don't feel like cooking or don't have the time, you can always pick up something from one of the following: Joan's on Third, 8350 W. 3rd St., L.A.; (323)

Looking to entice those hungry for a more healthful option, Dunkin' Donuts is introducing some better-for-you offerings this month. The menu, which will debut in stores Wednesday, will feature two flatbread sandwiches made with egg whites. Customers will be able to choose either a turkey sausage egg-white sandwich or a vegetable one. Both will be under 300 calories with 9 grams of fat or less, the company said. "We just felt it was important to provide some choice in our menu," said company President Will Kussell.

\o7T\f7\o7ARTINE\f7, \o7llesque\f7, \o7smorrebrod\f7, bruschetta.... whatever it's called, one thing is abundantly clear: The open-faced sandwich is internationally well liked. Walk through Paris' St.-Germain-des-Pres and you're bound to see a glamorous cafe patron lingering at an outdoor table over a gorgeous \o7tartine\f7, maybe piled with slices of ham and topped with a dollop of \o7griotte\f7 cherry jam and a big curl of butter, served on a large slice of Poilane sourdough.

As every "Jeopardy" contestant knows, the sandwich was invented during a 24-hour gambling binge, when John Montagu, 4th Earl of Sandwich, demanded something he could eat without having to put his cards down. The idea spread like wildfire in 1762. Lord Sandwich actually wasn't the first to wrap meat in bread; people had been doing that for centuries. So how did the idea end up with his name on it? Here's how.

Ever since I went on the low-carb Atkins diet, I've been thinking about sandwiches, which are basically forbidden on the plan. I've been thinking of the incomparable taste and satisfaction of meat between two slabs of bread, of where renowned sandwiches -- the po' boy and the croque-monsieur, for example -- came from and of great sandwiches I have known during my travels.