So you think you can make a panini?

Author: Joseph Bergan

"Anybody can throw some ingredients in the panini machine, but only a master of darkness can concoct a true panini," says Zach Maxwell '07 as he carefully saunters around Proctor Dining Hall, dipping and diving into different salad bars, combining everything the dining hall has to offer into his panini.

A prominent musician on campus, Maxwell '07 is often in his own world, blazing his own path. You have most likely seen him jamming on his guitar at the Grille, completely immersed in his music.

Maxwell, however, is not only a musical innovator - he has garnered a certain amount of fame in Proctor as a "master of the panini machine."

The panini machines, three large two-sided sandwich presses, constitute the soul of Proctor. The presses are amenities that set the oldest dining hall on campus apart from its sleek new compatriots, Ross and Atwater.

Proctor even boasts its own salad bar solely for the panini machine, conveniently stocked with shredded cheese, assorted cold cuts, vegetables and your basic condiments such as mayonnaise, mustard and salsa.

During the first stages of the extensive panini process, Maxwell's panini seems pretty straightforward, as he adds sliced turkey from the dinner line, shredded cheese, onions and tomatoes to fresh lavash bread wrap. Shredded cheese is the best, he says, "except for the rare gouda day."

"It's all about the mood," says Maxwell about his choice of ingredients, and he stresses "the energetic layout of food ingredients," citing that most students get their "food dispersion" wrong.

While the base of his panini seems disappointing at first, Maxwell surprises me by grabbing a coffee cup and filling it with mayonnaise.

"The secret is in the sauce," he says, as he adds cranberry sauce to his mug of mayonnaise. Grabbing a spoon, he mixes the two and then spreads the sauce vertically on both sides of his turkey-cheese layout. "See, its all about dispersion."

Next, he is off running to the regular salad bar to grab a curious ingredient - croutons. "Croutons add a good crunch and a good garlic factor."

"But," he warned, "don't over crouton."

He's quickly moving again, this time to the legendary spice rack. He springs into action, adding olive oil, a bit of red wine vinegar ("for dissonance," he says), and garden seasoning.

Bouncing back to the panini grill, he is ready to go. "You should always try to get the machine with the ridges," he says as he wraps his wrap in a simple trifold and places it on the grill. While some students may stand and wait for their paninis to cook, Maxwell keeps himself busy with the last leg of his panini process.

"A key factor is the dipping sauce," he says, grabbing yet another coffee mug. After applying honey from the tea station, he's back over to the spice rack adding to his mug cider vinegar, red vinegar, red pepper flakes, olive oil, balsamic vinegar and garlic powder.

Walking back towards his creation, he notes, "If it isn't splooging, you didn't do it right." After settling into the couch in the Proctor Lounge, Maxwell sinks his teeth into his panini before offering me a generous slice. The taste is refreshingly unique, as I crunch into the sweet and tangy wrap. Maxwell is a master.