Nicoise Salad Sandwich

The pan bagnat is not a sandwich so much as a composed salad that learned to travel. In Nice, where the sun bleaches the promenade white and the markets overflow with the Mediterranean's bounty, fishermen and workers have packed these for generations. The name means bathed bread, and that is exactly what happens. The vinaigrette soaks in, the tomato juices run, and by the time you unwrap it somewhere with a view, everything has become one thing.

Start with the tuna. Olive oil-packed is the only choice. The cheap stuff in water tastes like compromise. Good tuna has richness and texture that holds up against the brininess of the olives and the punch of the anchovies. The eggs should be cooked through but still golden at the center, not the pale gray of overcooked cafeteria eggs.

The green beans matter more than people realize. They bring freshness and snap, a counterpoint to all that richness. Blanch them quickly and shock them in ice water. Keep them bright. Keep them alive.

Every meal is a meaningful choice. When you source good tuna, good olives, bread from a baker who cares, you are not just making a sandwich. You are supporting the people who make real food. The sandwich tastes better for it.