It all started on one fateful night in 1762, in a dark and crowded English tavern. A nobleman named John Montagu was engaging in his favorite pastime: gambling with his friends. Usually Montagu, whose claim to nobility was that he was the fourth Earl of a mundane town called "Sandwich," (named after the Old English sandwic, or "sand town") was one of the finest gamblers in the entire English underworld.
But tonight, the Earl was off his game. Montagu had forgotten to grab dinner on his way to the gambling den, and desperately needed a snack to tide him over and allow him to focus. He hastily called over the nearest butler.
"Good sir, I am famished, and I could horribly use something delicious to dine upon," Montagu said.
"Of course, sir," answered the obliging butler. "Shall I bring you the usual, a steak with a side of fried potatoes?"
"Sounds delectable," Montagu said. "But wait! I am busy gambling, and eating a steak would require both of my hands. I cannot afford to lose any time placing dubious wagers!"
"Well, sir, that is certainly true," the butler said. "What shall I make you then?"
"Let's see. Do you have any roast beef on hand?"
"Of course."
"And what about two slices of bread? You must have bread, correct?"
The butler nodded.
"Well, then you must place a few pieces of roast beef betwixt two slices of bread, so that I may hold the meat in my left hand as I make deadly bluffs with my right."
"Of course, sir, right away," said the butler, as he went into the other room, completely unaware of the impact of the food he was about to construct.
Montagu's invention quickly caught on with the other noble English gamblers. It was ingenious, this new creation: a convenient way to eat a delicious meal with minimal effort and without grease and meat-juice getting all over one's hands.
Montagu's friends, who used each other's hometowns as nicknames, soon began ordering the "same as Sandwich," which eventually was truncated into just "sandwich." And a legend was born.
Fast-forward 248 years: Today, the sandwich is one of the fundamental components of world cuisine. A good sandwich packs loads of flavor into a mobile package. It is a purveyor of cultural culinary knowledge. We can bite into a croque-monsieur (the French version of the "grilled cheese") and be transported to a crowded Parisian street; one bite of a succulent gyro takes us to the maritime landscape of Greece.
The sandwich is the ultimate food equalizer. It is a meal that binds all eaters together, whether they are second-graders at an American elementary school enjoying a bologna on rye, or sophisticated diners at a bistro having honey-glazed ham with melted brie, Dijon mustard and sliced apple, all contained in a buttery brioche.
In a world in swift motion, we all share the need for expediency and convenience in our dining experiences. Yet I firmly believe that a sandwich must be both convenient and delicious. It may not be fancy or particularly glorious, but a sandwich has the power to bring people together and fill our lives with memorable, flavorful moments.
This semester, I promise to do my best to discover some of the finest sandwiches sold in the Medford and Somerville area, and to vilify those that do not fit the bill. I will also reveal some creative ways for you to make delicious sandwiches on your own, and will interview some sandwich experts in the community as part of my continuing search for sandwich nirvana.
We'll take a look Between the Slices. And I promise you: the journey will be a savory treat.
--
Ben Kochman is a freshman who has not yet declared a major. He can be reached at Benjamin.Kochman@tufts.edu.
