Sandwichist: Umami Sandwich at I Camisa on Old Compton Street

By · March 15, 2010 at 12:00 pm · No comments · Food and Drink · Report an error ·

In search of London’s best sandwich since sliced bread

“Oooooooo-mar-meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.” It’s a great word. If you can think of a better one you can join us for the next sandwichist mission. It’s also, quite literally, the ‘quintessential’ taste. Umami was “discovered” around 100 years ago by a Japanese scientist, called Kikunae Ikeda, who was the brainchild of MSG. Umami is the fifth basic culinary building block after sweet, sour, bitter and salt and means “deliciousness” in Japanese. It is naturally found in anchovies, soy sauce, veal stock, fish sauce, parmesan and increasingly in the kitchens of the world’s top chefs.

Mega chefs such as Heston Blumenthal and Ferran Adrià weave umami into dishes by using seaweed and exotic mushrooms. And with the introduction of a new product called Taste No 5 you can now squeeze it onto your food from a tube. Inspired by this, we went in search of an umami sandwich and found I Camisa on Old Compton Street.

I Camisa, which has been around for eighty years, is one of the best delicatessens in Central London. They stock a phenomenal range of hams, bread, olives, pasta, sausages and assorted continental goodies that have been smuggled into the UK to put a smile on our faces. As you are engulfed by the store and start to hear the chatter of Italian voices it’s hard to resist its culinary charms. And impossible not to fall stomach over head for their sandwiches.

After a brief queue full of eager and astute ‘gastro-nados’, we asked for a sandwich stuffed full of parmesan, anchovy, rocket and aubergine, in a bid to create our own umami rich lunch. After being asked whether it was really what we wanted rather than some beautifully fresh mozzarella, basil and tomato instead they relented and prepared the umami masterpiece. They lovingly enveloped the magnificent ingredients in a perfect ciabatta roll that was light with a slightly crisp crust and proudly presented their immaculate creation and a modest bill (£3).

It was deeply savoury, salty and very moreish. The squide of aubergine gave way to the tang of parmesan and finished with the meaty fishiness of anchovy. Whilst being so weird they almost refused to make it, this is a sandwich that really works, not that we expect to see it on many menus.

We went in search of umami and undeniably, found one of London’s finest sandwich shops.

61 Old Compton Street, London W1D 6HS, United Kingdom

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  • M@

    Wonderful stuff, Browners. Now do a sandwich that’s all bitter. Mmm, coffee bean, lemon peel and olive wrap.

  • Browners

    Haha. Glad you like the umami sandwich. I could do a bitter one. Or I could do a chocolate, peanut butter and jam sandwich just for the sugar spike!

    It just goes to show that a winning sandwich is all about balance. And not just a dominant taste.

  • http://undefined littleonesaid

    “a Japanese scientist, called Kikunae Ikeda, who was the brainchild of MSG”

    A scientist who was invented by a food additive? Curiouser and curiouser

  • Browners

    Good point. Maybe it should have been:

    “a Japanese scientist, called Kikunae Ikeda, who was the brains behind MSG”

    or

    ” Japanese scientist, called Kikunae Ikeda, who was the brainiac behind MSG”

    or

    ” Japanese scientist, called Kikunae Ikeda, who was the inventor of MSG”

    You choose, or suggest one of your own and I’ll change it.

  • http://undefined littleonesaid

    No, let’s leave it. I rather like it the way it is… :)

  • http://undefined Andrew

    Are you sure that the Fratelli Camisa online store you link to is the same as I Camisa & son where you got your umami sandwich?

    Fratelli Camisa used to have a shop at 1a Berwick Street (it appeared at least once on one of Delia Smith’s programmes, when she was cooking pasta). Later (in the 1980s, I think), they opened a branch on Charlotte Street, which was much friendlier than the Berwick St original. At the same time, I Camisa & Son were trading under their own name on Old Compton St (where they still are).

    I always assumed that they were two branches of the same family that fell out (as often happens!). It’s possible that the families have come back together, but I don’t think so, as the products on the Fratelli Camisa website aren’t the same as you get in I Camisa on Old Compton Street – notably the olive oils – I Camisa sell excellent olive oils under their own label.

    There’s a fascinating history of Soho’s Italian delicatessens waiting to be written. Alastair Scott Sutherland’s Spaghetti Tree (on the history and legacy of Mario & Franco) touches on the original Italian community of Soho, but only touches on it.

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