by Christi Vivar

Tennis Fuel

by Sarah Christine Bolton
April 23, 2008

This past weekend, for the first time in what feels like months, the temperature outside actually exceeded 40 degrees. In fact, it was 80 degrees, sunny, and the painting-perfect baby-blue sky was filled with white fluffy clouds. Birds were even singing.

Because of this, I played several hours of tennis on both Saturday and Sunday. Other than the fact that I had no sunscreen, it was glorious to be outside, sweating in the warm breeze. A treadmill in a sweaty gym can never compete with several hours of outdoor tennis.

I always crave a submarine sandwich after playing tennis. I’m not exactly sure why that is, but a six-inch grilled chicken on wheat with lettuce, olives, cucumbers and honey mustard hits the spot right on.

I really never eat subs at any other time except after playing tennis. I tend to get a bit worked up on a tennis court. Within three weeks of starting to play, I had broken a tennis racquet, insulted my opponent and discovered new ways to string together four-letter words. After one such match, my coach (my husband) took me aside and told me that I had to get myself under control. Which I do now, of course—for the most part.

My justifications for acting crazy on a tennis court are actually quite legitimate. First of all, I am not really competitive in any other area of my life, so a tennis court lets me get it all out. Second, all the pros are allowed to throw racquets and yell at people, so why can’t we, the little people, do it as well? And third … well, sometimes, throwing your racquet just feels good.

Regardless of whether or not I can keep it together on the tennis court, I must have a submarine sandwich as soon as I’m done. (Sometimes, I even crave one before I’m done playing, which probably explains my mistakes and subsequent temper tantrums).

One day, while preparing a sub after a day of tennis-playing, I become curious about the official history of the “submarine” sandwich. It seems that New Jersey grocery owner Dominic Conti was the first to use the term. He had a recipe from Italy for a sandwich made on a long crusty roll and filled with cold cuts, lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, onions, oil, vinegar, Italian spices, salt, pepper and cheese. One day in 1927, he went to see the recently recovered submarine Holland I that was put on display in Westside Park. He remarked that the submarine looked a lot like his sandwiches. From then on, they were called “submarine” sandwiches, at least in New Jersey. The same style of sandwich is called a hero, hoagie or po-boy in other parts of the country.

The other big plus about a sandwich is that it is the perfect on-the-go meal. Veggies, meat, and sauce, all held together by bread and held in one hand. A sandwich allows you to drive, eat and practice road rage. Hey, now that I have to play nice on the tennis court, I need to get that aggression out somewhere.

This sandwich recipe has all my favorites in it, but you can adapt it to fit your personal tastes. Regardless of how you make it, I still say a sandwich is the best way to remove tennis court rage guilt.

Sarah’s Killer Submarine Sandwiches

2 whole wheat hoagie rolls, sliced horizontally
2 tablespoons pesto
1/2 pound thin-sliced turkey
Several handfuls of red-leaf lettuce
1 avocado, sliced thinly
4-6 roasted red peppers

Spread pesto on hoagie rolls. Layer turkey, lettuce, avocado and red peppers. Serve immediately after losing your cool on a tennis court.

 
posted by on 04/23/08 at 08:26 PM. [printer-friendly version]   

posted by L.W. on 04/23/08 at 09:52 PM