Panini, -Nini, -Nini, Anyone?

I consumed quite a few on my first trip to Paris. I drooled along la rue Mouffetard smelling the many street side vendors' food offerings.  The unfamiliar pasty white sandwiches sat row by row piled high behind glass windows. Then the man plucked one from the pile, pressed it in the grill, and a few short minutes later, quickly tucked the hot golden brown sandwich into a thin crinkly paper sleeve to present to the hungry customer.  Light on the wallet, heavy on the stomach, and tasty in the mouth, it was going to be a while before I got over my newfound addiction to the magnificent pressed sandwich, aka the panini. 

But then we returned to the States and the affair ended - temporarily.  At long last, years went by and Soeur introduced me to the mouthwatering three cheese panini on Tria's menu: tantalizing.  She then introduced me to the grilled eggplant, pesto, and mozzarella panini at Follow Me Cafe: scrumptious.  Then she whipped out the panini press for Christmas: hot diggity, that's simply delish.  Soeur knows how much I'm addicted to this hot grilled phenomenon.  I can't even bear the thought of a cold sammich.  What loser would do a thing like that when there's so much more to be had by the crispy outside layer, the telltale grill marks, and the warm melty fillings of one of these bad boys?

Oh, the fillings.  Chutneys, meats, cheeses, fruits, vegetables, whatever you want, really.  Pesto, nutella, sundried tomatoes, ham, arugula, tapenade, vine-ripened cherry tomatoes, fig jam, prosciutto, roasted red peppers, spinach, mascarpone, mozzarella, grana padano, gouda, goat cheese, brie, cheddar, fontina.  The list is endless.  Choose a good bread, throw in whatever your little belly desires, and you'll see: 



Close the grill, and five minutes later you'll see: