A Serious Phenomenological Query: Return of the Sandwich Eater’s Chronicles

Posted: August 26th, 2012 | Filed under: Sandwich Eater Chronicle | No Comments »

I know, I know, it’s been a couple of weeks. Rather than bore you with reasons for my absence, let’s simply forge ahead.

Understand I have been eating sandwiches. And I have been observing the passing scene while doing so.

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Let’s go heady from the start. With a phenomenological contemplation that certainly is worth considering at a blog titled “Sandwich Eater’s Chronicles.”

Unfortunately The Earl of S is not around anymore to give us a definitive answer. So here’s the toss up to you, my loyal readers.

If you are on the run and stop for a quick sandwich at a place like Jimmy John’s. (Which is a franchise, granted, but knocks out those sandwiches in a hurry if you are in one. Plus it has great chips. Great crunch. And the store in St. Matthews has a savvy young gal as manager, who refunded my money when they forgot the mustard and cheese on my #15. Which knowing move added to the already pleasant experience because some singer was doing a great version of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” over the always crankin’ sound system.)

Anyway, say you’re at J J’s, or anywhere that will accommodate your request. Is a sandwich wrapped in lettuce instead of bread — The Unwich at Jimmy’s — really a sandwich? Periodically I try to diet. To little avail these days. But that trip I ordered that #15 — a Tuna Club, I think they call it — as an Unwich.

But was it a sandwich? Or, was John Montagu looking down from above, shaking his finger at me reprimandingly?

At this juncture I trust you want a quick explanation of how that 18th century British statesman came to invent my favorite meal this side of pizza? After all, he was, according to Wikipedia, The First Lord of Admiralty and a plenipotentiary at the Congress of Breda. (Trust me I have never before — never, ever — used the word plenipotentiary. Don’t ask. You want an exact meaning? Look it up yourself.)

But he’s best known for inventing the sandwich. At least, that’s the lore and I’m stickin’ to it.

It seems Montagu was a serious gambler, who didn’t like to take time away from the gaming tables for anything as frivolous as eating. So, it is said, he ordered a servant to bring him some meat slapped between a couple of slices of bread so he could sup without not taking his attention from the betting at hand. (There does not appear to be a record as to whether he asked for mustard, mayo, lettuce, tomato or pickles.)

Which brings me back to the point of this Sunday morning rumination.

If your filling — fish, foul, whatever and fixins — is wrapped in lettuce instead of bread, is it still really a sandwich?

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