FOOD FOR THOUGHT: Sandwich Stories

Food Fit for an Earl

It's often interesting to discover how particular foods have received their names. Take the sandwich, for example. The concept of a sandwich is nothing new. Meals have been consumed between slices of bread or rolled in flatbread for thousands of years -- in some Middle Eastern and Near Eastern countries bread is the sole utensil in which to eat with -- but it took a card game for this method of eating to be dubbed "sandwich."

In 1762 there was an English politician named John Montagu who -- like many Englishman -- enjoyed roast beef as his evening meal; he also held the title of the Earl of Sandwich, which made reference to the small and historic English town of Sandwich. This particular Earl also had a certain penchant for a good game of cards now and again -- and again and again. In fact, he enjoyed his card games so much that they sometimes lasted twenty-four hours, and he didn't like to stop the game for anything -- not even to eat.

It was during one of these marathon games that John Montagu was eating his dinner (as was his practice). Not wanting to set down his cards he took the beef off his plate and placed it between two slices of bread, thus keeping a hand free to play the game. It sounds as if good ol' John was a bit of an obsessive compulsive, or at least a creature of habit, and acting as such he suggested that his servant make his meals like this often, so often, in fact, that his friends began to call his meals a "sandwich." Interestingly, John Montagu also had an investment in exploration and ultimately sponsored the voyages of Captain James Cook. And in 1778 Captain Cook named a series of small South Pacific islands after the Earl, calling them The Sandwich Islands. Today, of course, these islands are known as Hawaii.

John Montagu was the fourth Earl of Sandwich, the first (Edward Montagu) was actually intended to be the Earl of Portsmouth but the title was apparently changed in tribute to the town of Sandwich because the fleet of ships he was commanding were moored just off its coast. This act of compliment started not only a string of "sandwich earls," instead of portsmouths, but also changed the name of a meal that happened generations later, a name that would become a household word and carry on for centuries.

Not all sandwiches received their names in such a grand manner, or from a noble-person. The dagwood, for example, took its name from the cartoon character in the comic strip Blondie. The taco is so named simply because the Spanish word refers to a long narrow shape (pool queues and women’s high-heeled shoes can also be referred to as tacos in Spanish). The hearty muffuletta sandwich of New Orleans carries a couple theories of origination. Some say it's named after an Italian immigrant who began serving his favorite concoction in the Crescent City around 1900. But chef and culinary historian John Folse speculates that it began as a humble snack invented by the Italian immigrants who worked the markets in New Orleans. They collected broken olives found at the bottom of the barrels (olive salad is the base to muffuletta), and stuffed them into round loaves of bread, which were called "muffs." Whichever the origin, muffulettas are delicious and best made in the traditional fashion -- one large sandwich cut into single servings. To this day tourists and locals alike throng to the Central Grocery on Decatur Street -- which claims to be the originator of the muffuletta -- for some of the best muffulettas in the country.

The club sandwich is said to be named simply because of its popularity at resorts and country clubs -- it was elegant and decadent enough to be served to the financially privileged. In its original form it consisted of the classic combination of bacon, lettuce and tomato, with a third slice of bread and sliced chicken breast. In the mid-1980's the club sandwich was brought to a new level of decadence -- Chef Anne Rozenwieg began serving a lobster club sandwich at her restaurant, Arcadia, located on the upper west side of Manhattan. The sandwich consists of grilled and chilled lobster tossed with house-made lemon mayonnaise and layered between slices of buttery fresh-made brioche with mesclun lettuce, organic tomatoes and crisp bacon. The cost: $25.00. The sandwich was an instant success, to such an extent that when chef Rozenwieg opened her second restaurant she named it aptly after her famous creation, calling it "The Lobster Club."