[Photo/The New York Times]

OLD Mr. Brown, a man I knew in Oakland, Calif., never ate anything but sandwiches. Ask him to a meal, pass the breadbasket. He put everything, from soup to nuts, between two slices. Evidently it was a lifelong obsession.

My pal Susan, when she makes me a tuna on wheat, always serves the lettuce leaves on the side, to be inserted just before eating the sandwich. The lettuce stays crisp that way, she says, perhaps because her greengrocer father said so.

My Aunt Ruth made an incredible grilled cheese with Muenster on rye that she mangled in a hot waffle iron for a Midwestern panino. The oozing bread became dimpled like crisp inverted croutons, and a little cheese always leaked out to form a crunchy snack. That sandwich remains a benchmark.

Everyone, it seems, if one can extrapolate a worldwide tendency from one’s acquaintances, wants their sandwich customized. It’s an everyday act that provides self-expression and utter self-indulgence.

My sandwich preferences are usually on the simpler side. As a young cook my midnight meal was a buttered baguette stuffed with watercress and seasoned with salt and pepper, a sandwich I still crave from time to time. With good Spanish ham, I want just bread and nothing else except a glass of Rioja or fino sherry. On warm focaccia or garlic toast, another favorite is garlicky roasted peppers and fresh mozzarella. Drizzled with olive oil. Basta.

Now that real vine-ripe tomatoes are finally in season, the best sandwiches are tomato. But the tomato sandwich is another minefield of opinion, prejudice and personal history. My friend Kevin goes into a swoon when he thinks about sliced tomatoes on white bread with Miracle Whip, but that is, I imagine, one of those tastes acquired in childhood.

With no such touchstone, I generally veer toward Mediterranean, and inevitably end up with a cross between the pan bagnat from Nice and the Catalan tomato bread with anchovy.

Tomatoes, olive oil, garlic, capers, anchovy and basil. A splash of red wine vinegar. It goes together quickly, but the ingredients need to stay inside the loaf for at least an hour. That way, the juicy tomatoes and all the tasty aromatics permeate the bread in a soggy, heavenly way. Eat it outside.

TOMATO SALAD?ON?A ROLL

Time: About 15 minutes, plus 1 hour’s resting

1 pound ripe tomatoes, in assorted colors and sizes

Salt and pepper

2 garlic cloves, finely minced

2 anchovy fillets, rinsed and roughly chopped, optional

1 teaspoon capers, rinsed

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 teaspoons red wine vinegar

Pinch red pepper flakes

12 basil leaves

A few tender parsley leaves

4 fresh French rolls or a long baguette.

1. Cut larger tomatoes in thick slices or wedges and smaller ones into halves, and put them in a salad bowl. Season with salt and pepper.

2. Add the garlic, anchovies (if using), capers, olive oil, vinegar, pepper flakes and half the basil, torn or chopped. Gently toss with the tomatoes and leave for 5 or 10 minutes.

3. Split the rolls or baguette lengthwise. Spoon tomato salad and its juices onto bottom of each roll (or bottom half of the baguette). Lay a few basil and parsley leaves over tomatoes. Replace tops and press lightly. If using baguette, cut crosswise into 4 pieces.

4. Cover sandwiches with a clean dish towel and wait for an hour or so before serving.

Yield: 4 servings.