Hold the Selection
“I’ll have the ham and swiss, please.”
“Okay. What would you like on it?”
“I don’t know. Whatever the hell you put on a ham and swiss.”
I hate ordering a sandwich, expecting to have it nicely prepared, but then finding myself peppered with the minute details of how my sandwich is to be constructed. Onions? Tomatoes? Cheese? Cucumbers? A gauntlet of decisions stands between my lunch and me.
I blame Subway. They popularized the technique of presenting a display case full of chopped vegetables and condiments, then demanding decisions from the customer. Now we all wait in line while each person runs through a detailed shopping list of toppings.
I’m not complaining because I’m indecisive. I’m complaining because these are decisions I’ve already delegated to the sandwich-maker. I expect a minimal level of expertise, that enables the preparer to arrange the appropriate ingredients in a fashion that is pleasing to my palate.
Some ingredients don’t belong on a corned beef sandwich. (Corned beef and mushrooms?) Why offer them to me? It insults my taste, and the professionalism of the one making the sandwich.
…professionalism? Of a sandwich maker?
Yes. These are the people I have entrusted to prepare a sandwich—a glorious, savoury creation—in the manner they deem fit. I completely defer to their judgement in the same fashion I defer to the judgement of my accountant or my lawyer. They are paid to make decisions on my behalf.
Picture these sorts of micro-decisions in a different setting: What if your accountant asked you whether you prefered you debits in the left-hand or right-hand column? (In complete contravention of the “credits by the window, debits by the door” convention.) Although this might seem trivial to you, the result could very well be some bad accounting. Tomatoes on a Reuben? Bad sandwich!
Pining for Schwartz’s
The best sandwich I ever had was the smoked meat at Schwartz’s Montreal Hebrew Delicatessen. The only question I was asked was whether I wanted it medium or lean. (Lean: for the self-deluding, heart conscious regular, I suppose.) What I received was a three-inch mittfull of blissfully moist meat between two thin wisps of bread, with a little yellow mustard thrown in. I had to order the pickle separately. It was brilliant.
Imagine trying to order that sandwich Subway-style at Schwartz’s.
“Can I have a smoked meat sandwich with mayonnaise, lettuce, cheese, hot peppers and special sauce?”
“Get out, you stupid English.”
And what’s more, the sandwich would be inferior in every way.
The Proper Way
When ordering a sandwich, you are allowed one hold. As in:
“Ham and swiss, hold the mayo.”
or:
“Meatloaf sandwich, hold the onions.”
This hold is not an opportunity for substitution. Picture the soup-Nazi from Seinfeld. Would you ask him to change something not to your liking?
If you want your sandwich exactly how you would make it, then make it yourself at home. The rest of us who are serious about finding great sandwiches can’t do so if every shop insists on making every sandwich differently.
I don’t expect a choice. The vendor shouldn’t offer it. The genius is in the not-asking.
ev · PDDCXII
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