Sarah: When we set out to source ingredients, Onstad and I both knew that there was only one place to get the meat from: our friend Eric Finley at Chop Butchery and Charcuterie, in the City Market here in PDX. Eric's expertise never fails to disappoint, and here, he shone: peppery pastrami, richly smoky bacon, pink roast beef, and salami so good it almost seemed wasted on a sandwich came to us in crisp white paper wrappers, along with enthusiastic suggestions involving mortadella and stuffed olives. (The Dagwood effect again—be prepared to embrace the enthusiasms of others when constructing this sandwich). After weeks of mental wrangling, we settled on a generally Italian sandwich as our Dagwood model, and Eric's meats marked the beginning of our porky, fatty odyssey made real. We added to the roster creamy havarti, tart Swiss, and sharp provolone, alongside pepperoni, butter lettuce, tomatoes, red onion, dill pickle slices, and hot dogs (briefly considered as architectural elements, vis-a-vis a dowel-like insertion into the guts of the sandwich). Eggs were softly boiled, so that their yolks were golden and creamily tender, and in a prep bowl we mixed together a sandwich spread whose ingredients are secretively maintained by a sandwich master in northern California (we can tell you that it involved spicy brown mustard and mayonnaise, but, you'll have to ferret the rest out for yourselves).