Between Two Bread Slices
I'm pretty sure the first time I met Cal we were eating sandwiches. It was in San Francisco after my younger brother, Dave, arrived from NYC back in 2013 for an epic California adventure (you can see their adventure catalogued under #calvinanddobbs). Cal and Dave went to college together and one of the first things Dave told me about Cal was his personal passion for sandwiches. Though you might spot the hashtag #instagramwiches often these days, let it be known: Cal hastagged it first.
The news has been pretty heavy these days (more on that soon); in light of everything, I'm really happy to share something that reminds us to take time to appreciate something as simple as a sandwich -emidobz
I’ve had some pretty bad sandwiches.
On a flight to Luang Prabang, Laos, the airline served what could only be described as minced mystery meat, injected into a roll.
I’ve eaten my share of Subway footlongs, and rumpled PB&Js while hiking.
I’ve had tremendous sandwiches, too. From street-corner turkey tortas in Mexico City, to Philly roast pork and towering Jewish deli sandwiches. Regardless of what goes in them, I’ve come to the conclusion that sandwiches are the perfect food.
A proper sandwich hits every food group: a base of hearty carbs, a stack of protein, veggies and fruits, dairy, and a dash of salts and fat.
Or maybe more than a dash.
The sandwich is vastly customizable. Don’t like onions? Say no more. Need gluten-free bread? Go for it. Sandwiches are portable -- I’ve taken one to school or work for most of the last 20 years -- and generally affordable (though not so much in San Francisco).
Whether you call it a hoagie or a sub, grinder, hero, or po’ boy, you probably have a very real connection to a favorite sandwich or deli.
I appreciate sandwiches so much that I started cataloguing them six years ago, actively documenting each one I encounter and devour under #instagramwiches. When I started this, it was never about rankings or ratings. There are enough top 10 lists to feed an army. I like to think of my running project as portraits of sandwiches. Every single one, good or bad, simple or extravagant, deserves its due.
Perhaps, though, what I love most about a sandwich, is how one can carry a sense of place. Whether it’s perfect harmony of Vietnamese ingredients and French colonial baguette and pâté in a bánh mì, or the all-in-one fries and slaw with the pastrami inside the italian bread of Primanti Bros in Pittsburgh, sandwiches can tell quite a story, all between two slices of bread. -Cal Silcox