The sandwich is back!
Yep, there's a proclamation. One must always proclaim at the beginning. William Shakespeare taught me that, with such epic opening to his little plays like:
"Well, now is the winter of our discontent...."
Awesome. Grab the audience with a bold statement, pull them closer with the intrigue of that which requires explanation, set the table for what is to follow and they are yours, for however long your literary skills allow you to hold them. All one has to do, is follow such an opening with a few hours worth of dialogue, throw in something like 'a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse' at the end, and you have something approaching the quality of Richard III. Easy as that, if you just start it off right.
You may say, that my statement above may not have grabbed, nor intrigued nor even set any tables (although, technically, no sandwich should ever require a set table - just use your hands and eat it out of the paper bag it comes in!) however, just like the rest of the Richard III play itself, there is perhaps a question to the accurate validity of the statement. You see, despite being one of The Barb's greatest plays and probably because of how famous and beloved it has become, many historians take great umbrage with the way the former King of England is portrayed in the great play. Shakespeare shows him to be a maniacal, physically deformed, sociopath, who essentially maneuvers his way though a litany of immorally ingenious actions and cruel and violent provocations, in order to achieve his ultimate goal - that of wining the crown for his head. (I was tempted to define his actions as 'Machiavellian', but it's way too early for a dodgy and elite academic metaphor which confuses two great writers - there's enough private jokes in my work as is.) Only at the very end, when he is faced with the ultimate consequences of such a great many actions of marginalisation and isolation, does he, somewhat simply, repent.
In historical reality, however, Richard III was a truly great and somewhat benevolent leader of England. Even prior to his ascent to the throne, he was much loved throughout the Northern reaches of England, for instigating and maintaining certain systems that were key to improving the social welfare of many. Despite the great many attempts to displace him from his throne, these were more so motivated by long running feuds between ancient families, rather than due any great evil he committed as a ruler. Even the charges that he conspired in the murder of his brother and his nephews, are impossible to prove and are now widely believed to be untrue.
But that is enough of the English Class for today. I only mentioned this famous fictitious retelling of history, because of the similarity in accuracy between it and the statement I began this post with:
"The Sandwich is back!"
I don't think The Sandwich ever actually went away. In fact, I'm certain it didn't.
What a dickhead - with all that Shakespeare talk and the Richard III nonsense. All of that was about a desire to add a dramatic weight that, even though it was supposedly about highlighting the incorrectness of my proclamation, would actually serve to distract you from the gross inaccuracy of it.
The Sandwich hasn't gone anywhere. Never did. We may have renamed it the Panini or the Focaccia for a while or gotten a little carried away with a gross gambit of bread selection (wholegrain linseed and rye, with quinoa flakes anyone? Do you want that toasted?) or even done away with the bread completely ( there's an ad on TV at the moment, for some fast food chain that has a sandwich consisting of slices of cheese bracketed between two pieces of grilled chicken. "so big, we left out the bread " they claim.). We may have taken it out of the Tuck Shop (look that term up if you're unsure - great Aussie colloquialism) and put it into the Trans-Atlantic Economy Class Dinner Menu or onto some Molecular Gastronomy Degustation routine. There's that Hot Dog at the Yankee Stadium, the one that costs $17, that is a type of sandwich. There's the Banh Mi which is a sandwich, or the Taco which is also a type of sandwich. There is even that poor Mexican boy, whom I witnessed getting flipped off his bike and over the top of the car door that opened just in front of him out him on East 10th - he was part of a sandwich, as he and the bike he was on, got tragically wedged between the parked car to his right and one that was passing to his left. He, just like The Sandwich itself, survived (Mexican delivery boys are one tough breed) - The Sandwich is a culinary survivor.
So then what am I talking about? What do I mean that it is 'back'?
Here's the foundation:
I have now become properly ensconced in my new neighborhood. The East Village is where I'm at and its where 'its' at. This is where those that are hip AND have a permanent career live (as opposed to those that are hip but are tending bar, whilst waiting around to be discovered as the next genre-defining, postmodern, vitally important, black and white photographer, that will one day define their generation. Those hopelessly over-important and mainly unemployed clowns live in Brooklyn). High disposable income flows wild and free around the streets South of 14th and East of Broadway. Correspondingly, the retail outlets to collect that cash are densely abounds. Many of those outlets purvey in the Food and Drink business. And (fuck you - I've educated a little English Class about Shakespeare, so now I get to start a sentence, grammatically incorrectly with 'and' ) many of those are simply 'Sandwich Shops'.
Now, because this is the oh-so-urbane and grown up 'E-Vill' (I prob just invented that tag), these aren't just chopped lettuce and sliced tomato stalls. Not all. Just a cursory wander around the streets, will serve to locate fresh lobster rolls, bursting with sweet crustacean flavour and an even sweeter indefinable sauce at $20 a pop. There is the hole in the wall sized shop, that, all day, roasts up rolled and stuffed hams, to pull apart whilst still hot and line a crusty baguette with. There's the Vietnamese sandwich joints, that sell the aforementioned Banh Mi, or the Cuban Sandwiches sold by a litany of dodgy delis. And (yep, that's the second time I've started a sentence with 'and') then there's my favorite - the sister business to one of the most sought after pizza places in town, that serves only three sandwiches, each of which is better than the next and frames the whole thing in the Hipster Aesthetic (Cheese Whiz on freshly sliced roast beef - wow, how ironic....).
The list goes on, but I don't want to sound like a Time Out Magazine Top 10 List, so I'll stop here. But you get the point - the sandwich is cool again. It must be, for like mustaches, tattoos, indie-pop-post-punk-new-electro (what the fuck is that?!?!) and skinny jeans, the hipsters have decided so. I, for one, am so happy, so embolden by this bit of new fashion. You see, I missed the last two and a half years of school and, if you include that bizarre year or so in a Rabbinical College in LA around 9th grade, I missed another year of 'normal' schooling on top of that. That works out to be over 3 years of missed school lunches - over 3 years worth of missed sandwiches and I think this deficiency is what set me off; what screwed me up. It has to be the only reason I got to be so, well, 'special'. Surely, it's the missing link. It cannot be anything else.
Yep, there's a proclamation. One must always proclaim at the beginning. William Shakespeare taught me that, with such epic opening to his little plays like:
"Well, now is the winter of our discontent...."
Awesome. Grab the audience with a bold statement, pull them closer with the intrigue of that which requires explanation, set the table for what is to follow and they are yours, for however long your literary skills allow you to hold them. All one has to do, is follow such an opening with a few hours worth of dialogue, throw in something like 'a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse' at the end, and you have something approaching the quality of Richard III. Easy as that, if you just start it off right.
You may say, that my statement above may not have grabbed, nor intrigued nor even set any tables (although, technically, no sandwich should ever require a set table - just use your hands and eat it out of the paper bag it comes in!) however, just like the rest of the Richard III play itself, there is perhaps a question to the accurate validity of the statement. You see, despite being one of The Barb's greatest plays and probably because of how famous and beloved it has become, many historians take great umbrage with the way the former King of England is portrayed in the great play. Shakespeare shows him to be a maniacal, physically deformed, sociopath, who essentially maneuvers his way though a litany of immorally ingenious actions and cruel and violent provocations, in order to achieve his ultimate goal - that of wining the crown for his head. (I was tempted to define his actions as 'Machiavellian', but it's way too early for a dodgy and elite academic metaphor which confuses two great writers - there's enough private jokes in my work as is.) Only at the very end, when he is faced with the ultimate consequences of such a great many actions of marginalisation and isolation, does he, somewhat simply, repent.
In historical reality, however, Richard III was a truly great and somewhat benevolent leader of England. Even prior to his ascent to the throne, he was much loved throughout the Northern reaches of England, for instigating and maintaining certain systems that were key to improving the social welfare of many. Despite the great many attempts to displace him from his throne, these were more so motivated by long running feuds between ancient families, rather than due any great evil he committed as a ruler. Even the charges that he conspired in the murder of his brother and his nephews, are impossible to prove and are now widely believed to be untrue.
But that is enough of the English Class for today. I only mentioned this famous fictitious retelling of history, because of the similarity in accuracy between it and the statement I began this post with:
"The Sandwich is back!"
I don't think The Sandwich ever actually went away. In fact, I'm certain it didn't.
What a dickhead - with all that Shakespeare talk and the Richard III nonsense. All of that was about a desire to add a dramatic weight that, even though it was supposedly about highlighting the incorrectness of my proclamation, would actually serve to distract you from the gross inaccuracy of it.
The Sandwich hasn't gone anywhere. Never did. We may have renamed it the Panini or the Focaccia for a while or gotten a little carried away with a gross gambit of bread selection (wholegrain linseed and rye, with quinoa flakes anyone? Do you want that toasted?) or even done away with the bread completely ( there's an ad on TV at the moment, for some fast food chain that has a sandwich consisting of slices of cheese bracketed between two pieces of grilled chicken. "so big, we left out the bread " they claim.). We may have taken it out of the Tuck Shop (look that term up if you're unsure - great Aussie colloquialism) and put it into the Trans-Atlantic Economy Class Dinner Menu or onto some Molecular Gastronomy Degustation routine. There's that Hot Dog at the Yankee Stadium, the one that costs $17, that is a type of sandwich. There's the Banh Mi which is a sandwich, or the Taco which is also a type of sandwich. There is even that poor Mexican boy, whom I witnessed getting flipped off his bike and over the top of the car door that opened just in front of him out him on East 10th - he was part of a sandwich, as he and the bike he was on, got tragically wedged between the parked car to his right and one that was passing to his left. He, just like The Sandwich itself, survived (Mexican delivery boys are one tough breed) - The Sandwich is a culinary survivor.
So then what am I talking about? What do I mean that it is 'back'?
Here's the foundation:
I have now become properly ensconced in my new neighborhood. The East Village is where I'm at and its where 'its' at. This is where those that are hip AND have a permanent career live (as opposed to those that are hip but are tending bar, whilst waiting around to be discovered as the next genre-defining, postmodern, vitally important, black and white photographer, that will one day define their generation. Those hopelessly over-important and mainly unemployed clowns live in Brooklyn). High disposable income flows wild and free around the streets South of 14th and East of Broadway. Correspondingly, the retail outlets to collect that cash are densely abounds. Many of those outlets purvey in the Food and Drink business. And (fuck you - I've educated a little English Class about Shakespeare, so now I get to start a sentence, grammatically incorrectly with 'and' ) many of those are simply 'Sandwich Shops'.
Now, because this is the oh-so-urbane and grown up 'E-Vill' (I prob just invented that tag), these aren't just chopped lettuce and sliced tomato stalls. Not all. Just a cursory wander around the streets, will serve to locate fresh lobster rolls, bursting with sweet crustacean flavour and an even sweeter indefinable sauce at $20 a pop. There is the hole in the wall sized shop, that, all day, roasts up rolled and stuffed hams, to pull apart whilst still hot and line a crusty baguette with. There's the Vietnamese sandwich joints, that sell the aforementioned Banh Mi, or the Cuban Sandwiches sold by a litany of dodgy delis. And (yep, that's the second time I've started a sentence with 'and') then there's my favorite - the sister business to one of the most sought after pizza places in town, that serves only three sandwiches, each of which is better than the next and frames the whole thing in the Hipster Aesthetic (Cheese Whiz on freshly sliced roast beef - wow, how ironic....).
The list goes on, but I don't want to sound like a Time Out Magazine Top 10 List, so I'll stop here. But you get the point - the sandwich is cool again. It must be, for like mustaches, tattoos, indie-pop-post-punk-new-electro (what the fuck is that?!?!) and skinny jeans, the hipsters have decided so. I, for one, am so happy, so embolden by this bit of new fashion. You see, I missed the last two and a half years of school and, if you include that bizarre year or so in a Rabbinical College in LA around 9th grade, I missed another year of 'normal' schooling on top of that. That works out to be over 3 years of missed school lunches - over 3 years worth of missed sandwiches and I think this deficiency is what set me off; what screwed me up. It has to be the only reason I got to be so, well, 'special'. Surely, it's the missing link. It cannot be anything else.
But now I have found a place to cure me - here in the E-Vill, the home of The Rebirth of The Sandwich. I have discovered my Jerusalem and I will now be saved. One pastrami on rye at a time.
Praise the Lord, this boy will be sanctified!
I was lost, but The Sandwich has found me.
