Why Mexico's Festive Sandwiches Are the Real Deal

Christmas. That magical time of year when the world forgets its grievances, pretends not to notice Uncle John’s unsightly sweater, and collectively agrees that consuming enough calories to sustain a small village is not just acceptable but essential. Normally, I’d wax lyrical about roast turkeys, the plump, defenseless birds sacrificed at the altar of tradition. But no, today we embark on an altogether more audacious quest — one that involves a culinary marvel often overlooked by the pompous elites of European cuisine: the Mexican Christmas sandwich.

Let’s clear something up. I know what you’re thinking. Sandwiches? At Christmas? Surely, this is a food of last resort, the hurried concoction of whatever’s left in the fridge when the clock strikes midnight on Boxing Day. Wrong. Mexico doesn’t mess around with sandwiches — these aren’t your limp, cucumber-infested British teas or dreary American PB&Js. Mexican sandwiches, particularly around Christmas, are a full-throttle assault on your taste buds, a blend of spice, meat, and the kind of unapologetic indulgence that makes you want to write poetry or run a marathon. Probably both.

First on our pilgrimage of gluttony is the Torta de Pierna. Imagine, if you will, a soft bolillo roll — Mexico’s answer to the baguette — sliced open to reveal slow-roasted pork leg, tender and juicy enough to make you question your life choices up until now. Add refried beans, avocado, pickled jalapeños, and lashings of mayonnaise. Yes, mayonnaise. Why? Because this isn’t some insipid diet food for Instagram influencers. This is comfort incarnate, and mayonnaise is non-negotiable. It’s there to bind all the flavors into a glorious mess that drips down your hands as you eat. Don’t fight it. Embrace it.

Next, the Pambazo — a sandwich that seems to have taken one look at the concept of subtlety and decided it wasn’t having any of it. This is a roll dipped in guajillo chili sauce and then grilled, so it emerges from the process looking like it’s been through a particularly brutal battle. Inside, you’ll find chorizo and potatoes, a combination that sounds simple until you realize it’s been designed to set off fireworks in your mouth. The bread, having absorbed that fiery chili bath, offers a smoky punch that could wake the dead. This isn’t a sandwich; it’s an experience. You don’t just eat it; you survive it.

Bacalao. Salted cod. For most of the year, it languishes in the culinary backwaters, the kind of thing only your grandmother insists on eating. But come Christmas, it takes center stage. The Torta de Bacalao is the epitome of festive excess. Here, the cod is prepared a la Vizcaína — a rich stew with tomatoes, olives, capers, and enough garlic to ward off vampires until Easter. Piled into a crusty roll, it transforms into something extraordinary. Each bite is a rollercoaster of salt, acid, and umami, a reminder that sometimes, the old ways are the best ways.

Then there's the Tortas de Tamales. Now, this is where things get interesting. Forget those dry, cardboard-like tamales you get at the supermarket. These are fresh, homemade tamales wrapped in corn husks and filled with pork, chicken, or even cheese. They're then smothered in a rich, creamy sauce and served on a fluffy roll. It's a Christmas miracle in every bite.

Finally, don't forget the Quesadillas de Puerco. These are grilled tortillas filled with shredded pork, cheese, and a variety of toppings, like onions, cilantro, and salsa. They're simple, satisfying, and perfect for sharing with friends and family.

Why Sandwiches? Why Not?

You see, Christmas in Mexico isn’t about restraint. It’s about celebrating life, flavor, and the glorious chaos that comes from putting everything you love between two slices of bread. It’s about understanding that sometimes, the simplest things — a roll, some meat, a smear of beans — can be transcendent.

So this year, forget the turkey. Forget the ham. Forget whatever sad, overcooked thing you were planning to serve. Instead, embrace the Mexican Christmas sandwich. It’s messy. It’s indulgent. It’s everything Christmas should be. And if you don’t like it? Well, there’s always mayonnaise.