When I was a kid, I ate sandwiches every day. I wasn’t necessarily fond of eating them, it’s just that was what my family could afford. In my Empire Strikes Back lunchbox every day, my mom would pack a sandwich, some kind of fruit (raisins, apple, etc.), cookies or chips, and a thermos of milk, which felt like I was drinking about half a gallon out of that huge screw cap cup that came with the thermos. Sometimes she would mix it up with fig newtons or a cheese stick. Sandwiches ranged from the usual PBJ to the plain cheese to the more rare and exotic cold meatloaf sandwich with mayo on wheat bread. Every so often, I would get olive loaf bologna or that salami with the giant tear-inducing peppercorns with mayo.
Other than the hot lunches served at the cafeteria, which weren’t all that great, I ate my lunch out of that steel box for six years. When I was in high school, I would often scrounge at home during my lunch time. Crackers and butter, sometimes leftovers from the fridge. I tended to avoid sandwiches.
My dad’s idea of road trip food was to pack a cooler with a loaf of white bread, a bottle of mustard, some processed ham slices, and a bag of chips. The construction method for one of my dad’s sandwiches was simple. A signature of mustard on one piece of bread. A slab of cold, gelatinous “ham”, and a second piece of tasteless bread that had absorbed much of the humidity from the melting bag of ice in the cooler to seal it like a tomb. Sometimes there would be American cheese slices. A handful of chips that had been ground into bits accompanied the sandwich on a paperplate. Everything was eaten while we drove.
I hate sandwiches.
Tuna sandwiches, no matter how much mayo is mixed in with the chunk light tuna usually stops about halfway down my esophagus and has to be chased with a mug or two of milk. It’s not just my angst against American bread that fuels my dislike of sandwiches. The bread you can buy in the store is more like cake. It squishes down to nothing. Tastes much like what it squishes down to–air. It’s the utilitarian aspect of it. Sandwiches are basically just an exercise in chewing and consuming calories.
I have only had a few typical sandwiches that exceeded my expectations. These have almost always included bacon, lettuce, and tomato. Or toasted cheese dipped in tomato soup. But outside of the pedestrian version of bread, condiment, meat, and/or cheese, sandwiches are mostly a waste of time. Unless they are preceded by the word “Submarine”. Sandwiches are an exercise in monotony.
I’ve been travelling across California for the last few weeks. On average, it costs about fifty cents per mile and everything is very spread out. I haven’t had the luxury of being able to stop and eat out, and the price of food is rising with every stop. In CA, it’s not unusual to see a pound of hamburger for $8 (ground chuck). Everything out here is expensive, except for wine. You can get a decent bottle of Cab Sav for about $4. Which is the same as a can of refried beans and an apple.
When I stopped in Bishop, CA, I visited Schatt’s Bakkery, which had the original sheepherder bread. Jeeez. Talk about a game changer. It was the kind of bread that lent itself to being crafted into a sandwich. Along with some streaky bacon, ripe tomatoes, and some mayo and tabasco, I had a perfect BT (the L is saved for the rabbits). It was even good with peanut butter and marmalade. It even made sliced deli ham and peppercorn salami tolerable.
The best part is while I worked my way up the central valley, from Lake Isabella to Sequoia and Yosemite National Parks, most of my money went into the gas tank. Sandwiches meant that I could still chew and fuel my body. It didn’t waste propane to make a soup, and I didn’t have to search everywhere for fresh water to do dishes after making a serious meal. The sandwiches sufficed.
Sometimes you need to make sacrifices to do the things you really want to do.
There’s a shortage of public lands in central California. All the land is being used for orange groves and vineyards, which explains the cheap bottles of wine at least. Gasoline is around $6 per gallon. Propane is upwards of $12 per bottle. And for some reason, the National Parks I have visited are always hours and hours away.
When I visited Sequoia and Yosemite, I had a coffee for breakfast and a sandwich in the late afternoon. The rest of my cash went into the tank. Sandwiches still aren’t my favorite. There are times I can literally taste a slice of hot pizza if I think about it for more than a few seconds. But the soul isn’t fueled by such things. It’s experiences. The way the Yosemite Valley opens up after the tunnel, or that first glimpse of the giant sequoias is food for the soul and tastes better than just about anything.
I still hate sandwiches, but I appreciate what they can get me.
“You can get a decent bottle of Cab Sav for about $4. Which is the same as a can of refried beans and an apple.”
Liquid diet?
Nothing deglazes like a good red.