How To Make A Sandwich properly

Most people believe that they can make a sandwich. Unfortunately, the sad truth is that they are unequivocally, and undeniably wrong.

            You see, first we must consider what sandwich we wish to have. Do we want a ham and cheese sandwich, thereby perfectly marrying form and function, or would we rather have a BLT, gently and subtly blending meats and non-meat things. There is much to be said of dairy-non-grata, so maybe a fried egg between two slices of lettuce would do. Of course, this option may be for the rather more perverse and kinky of you.

Of course, we might prefer our sandwich to be thematic, rather than descriptive. As such, the ingredients do not matter as much as how each culture has managed to mash them together. For example, one might be tempted to try middle-eastern, where temperatures are hot, and the men even more hot headed. Another example might be the frenchy French, the temperamental lot that they are. One could even go all the way to Timbuctoo, although there isn’t much to find there other than a lot of history, which is quite frankly irrelevant to the point at hand.

I believe for now, I shall begin with some white toast, something that is both brilliantly simple, and simply brilliant. How could one possibly be less complex, and yet more complicated at the same time? As you may very well know, toast is the loafiest of all loafs, sliced to perfection, and perfectly shaped to fit a common toaster. In fact, you may even have a toaster right in your house! There’s probably a toaster there, sitting unused, and uncared for, yearning for the next loaf to enter its heated interior. So hot. But I digress.

            Let us instead qualify our hunger with a quality, as that is what qualitating is. Are we hungry, or are we merely peckish? Is this a meal reserved for One’s self, or is it to be shared with ungrateful others? Do I really wish to spend my expensive mustard now, or rather reserve it for a grander, much more brilliant sandwich later? Ultimately, unlike the mysteries of life, these questions are important, and can only be answered by one’s self.

            If you will allow me the presumptuousness at this point, to share a little story. I once met a man, quite well dressed and intelligent. He was a doctor, in fact, with a very long and profound career. We were sitting together one day, when he began to tell me about one of his surgeries. It was a 32 hour procedure, with over 25 nurses and doctors at hand. It was a transplant, the moving of a heart from one body to another. They toiled, and they tried, and at one point they came quite close to giving up, but in the end, they prevailed, and their subject survived.

            After he told me this story, I asked him but one simple question: “Yes, my dear doctor, but can you make a perfect sandwich?” As you can imagine his face of utter shock, and his silence, betrayed his sandwich making inadequacy. The fool that he was.

            Now let me come back to making a sandwich. You see, it is not merely a state that we must satisfy, it is a whole metaphysical and gestroepistemiological concept. We are not merely satiating hunger, but we are teaching our taste buds, expanding on the ever wondrous repertoire of oral delights. The fact that we chose a sandwich to do so is no mere coincidence, but rather, it is an intense internal desire, fostered by countless sandwiches before it. After all, how would we know that we want a sandwich, if we have never had a sandwich before it?

            Of course, one could go on for ages on the impact that sandwiches have made in our art. One can hardly conceal the truth of Romeo and Juliet, which were not but two different buns trying to come together, forever betrayed by the strangeness of their mixture. Nor can we deny the brilliance of Da Vinci’s The Last Super, sandwiches and breads shared equally among fair men. Finally, we cannot forget Sherlock Holmes, a brilliant relish, trying to fit in an imperfect loaf. Alas, sandwiches are simply everywhere, and yet no-one can see it! I feel quite like some relish myself.

            Some people have it all wrong. You should not make love to a sandwich. I dare say that this is a different kind of story that you’ll be wanting which you won’t find much of here. No, here you will only find the interminable craft of making a sandwich. The pure elation of a thoroughly thumped dough, inserted and removed repeatedly from a hot and well lubricated oven. The juicy feel of a freshly fingered ingredient.

Personally, I think you should go wash your hands at once you filthy pervert.

Anyway, one should not make love to a sandwich, but rather, one must Love their sandwich. The thought of making a sandwich should cause such fiery passion that the possibility of not doing so would be a wound upon the soul. One cannot merely wish to make a sandwich, its conception must be pure, and the intent, unstoppable. I would warn you this: Do not think of making a sandwich lightly.

And herein lies the crux of the matter: How can I possibly make a good sandwich now, while denying an even better one later? *sigh*. The problems of the mind will never finish. I think a plain cheddar cheese would be a nice base to choose. You see, cheese is what one might un-ironically call the bread and butter of sandwiches.

So where do we stand? Well, at the kitchen counter of-course! Where else would you expect to make a sandwich? As they say in show business, it’s all about “Location, Location, Location”. Incidentally, don’t ask me why they have to repeat it three times, maybe the person was slightly deaf or something. I don’t see much point in constantly repeating the same thing over and over and over and over again. We don’t have the time, we have sandwiches to make!

Of course, it is true that some choose to make their sandwiches in strange places, but I will leave greater philosophical minds to ponder that problem. Although, one does feel sorry for them (the philosophers I mean), with all the time they take to ponder, they never get a chance to taste all the varieties of sandwiches! Oh well, that’s why I make sandwiches, instead of complex treaties on some subject or other.

I think a light luncheon will do.

So now that we have our ingredients, let us bring our attention to a matter of the utmost importance: Placement. You see, one cannot simply throw the ingredients together; your meats, your cheeses, your vegetables and fruits. Not even the condiments that so grace your creation. Everything must be placed properly, for it is sacrilege to do otherwise. The title ‘sandwich’ is heavy to bear, and not all concoctions can claim nor handle this prize.

After all, sandwich is as sandwich does, and a sandwich which does not perfectly contain its ingredients is no sandwich at all! Maybe it’s something else altogether, like a flaffen, or a blooben, or some other kind of made-up word we’d have to create. I won’t hear of it. It should be done properly, or not done at all! You can’t have a sandwich with bits dangling off it after all!

But, I will go easy on you, for there are certain methodological problems when it comes to preparation. For example, how does one correct the incongruence of a round meat with a square piece of toast? Or even the incongruence of a square cheese with a round bun? Truly, these are problems that even I struggle with.

Fortunately, we are all blessed with geometry, I mean, why do you think we were taught that in school? To build buildings? To construct constructions? No, it is so that we can make a perfect sandwich, regardless of the irregular shapes that our ingredients must take. With a square cheese you must cut off the corners. With a round meat you must cut in quarters, and place on the edges with concentricity. Surely these thoughts have occurred to you as well?

Well, after we create our geometrically matched perfection, we must now considered what we must do with it next. Should we heat it, or should we eat it cold? Should we cut it diagonally or horizontally? Should we maybe just throw it all out in a fit of anger at the indignity of it all? These examples, I’m sure, will be quite common to you. Each answer has its own merit, and must be considered carefully before taken. A sandwich that is cut, cannot be uncut. You would spoil the thing forever.

My opinions on this are quite clear, of course; while I am generally a purist at heart, I feel that a light heating does wonders and adds much to the taste. Of course, you might have some ingredients that cannot be heated, or that maybe are already heated before being applied. The simple answer here is that you’re probably doing something wrong. Not to begrudge those philistines who do this, let me say that the complex answer is to add those ingredients after you have done your general toasting and heating.

So I place my sandwich, bread, meat, cheese and all, into the toaster I have preheated, to the perfectly perfect temperature. Of course, I will now do my own little secret, which is laying a slight layer of butter on each of the outside pieces of toast. You might find this mad, but try it, and you will understand all.

Now all that’s left is to wait.

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

Ok, sandwich’s done!

            Here comes the moment that we all wait for, the first bite. One’s teeth, exquisitely and slowly biting through a crunchy and crispy bread. The butter, expertly applied on bread, comes in contact with one’s tongue, exploding one’s buds in a sea of tasty delight. Then, comes the slightly melted cheese, squirting out through any crevice it can find. Finally, comes the meat, the perfect joinder and coup-de-grace of what is possibly the tastiest and most perfect sandwich that has been made.

            The soul sings at such slurpy sensations. The mind boggles, unable to comprehend the flawlessness and faultlessness at such a pure creation. The earth could crumble, and the universe could fall, one would not even notice, for one’s eyes are closed in such sincere and unmissable passion. At this state of existence, emotions are indescribable, problems are unimaginable, and everything else is simply colored bubbles. Truly, the endeavor of all matter and creation lies neatly and tightly upon one’s own tongue.

            And that, ladies, gentlemen, and everybody inbetween, is how you make a sandwich.