The
generally accepted view is that the club sandwich is an American invention.
Indeed, Wallis Simpson - “that American woman” for whom King Edward VIII gave
up the throne – claimed to have introduced it to England. A more specific, and
oft-repeated point of history about the club sandwich is that it was invented
at the Saratoga Club House
in New York in about 1894.
The truth is of
course that the club sandwich was not “invented” at a specific moment in time nor
a specific location nor by a single individual. As with all recipes, the club
sandwich evolved from existing ideas. This is no less interesting a process, of
course, to those of us who love unravelling these things, but it does not
provide the single-sentence ‘bite’ so convenient for quickie-writers – hence
the perpetuation of many of the myth-tories of food history. My particular
favourite myth-tory in relation to the sandwich is one that I am sure you all
know – that it was “invented” by the Earl of Sandwich himself one night when he
was reluctant to leave the gaming table for a proper meal, and called for a bit
of meat wrapped in bread that he could eat in his hand.
Firstly, let us
go to our first port of call in this sort of investigation: what does the
Oxford English Dictionary says about the club sandwich?
club sandwich n. (orig U.S.) a thick sandwich containing
several ingredients, as chicken or turkey, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, etc.;
also fig.
What I find a
little odd, and rather disappointing, about this entry is that it makes no
mention of what I feel sure most of us would agree are the key features of a
club sandwich – that it is made up from three slices of toast (not bread) and two (not one) layers of filling.
The earliest reference
I have found so far (after an admittedly very brief search) to the club
sandwich pre-dates that in the OED,
and comes from a British newspaper, which hints at British roots:
Sandwiches. …. The well-made sandwich
is of inestimable value. … The use of lettuce as a filling for sandwiches is
comparatively new, and has met with unqualified favour. Dressed with
mayonnaise, and laid with bits of chicken or beef or any other kind of meat
between thin slices of toast, it makes claim to the title of club sandwich.
Westminster
Budget
of October 16, 1896
Note however,
that although this description specifies toast, it not assume multiple layers.
Here is a rather
interesting and amusing Englishman’s view of Americans and of sandwiches eaten
in gentlemen’s clubs (and the “formulators” of such things,) which may also
point to the ancestry of our dish of the day:
Speaking of Americans, reminds me
that I read in a New York newspaper the other day a long account of a Mr. E.
Ely Goddard, who seems to have been outrunning the constable out there.
According to the newspaper, Mr. Goddard “holds a rather picturesquely pro-eminent
position in the local gallery of social celebrities,” whatever that means, and
rests his claim to social recognition upon having become one of the founders of
the Tenderloin Club and “the formulator of the equally famous Union Club
sandwich of toasted bread and sliced chicken.” What a giddy eminence Mr. Ely.
Goddard has fallen from! And what a very young people the Americans are. They
were serving chicken sandwiches on toast at Pratt’s, Limmer’s and Long’s long
before Mr. Goddard was born, but no one troubled to know the name of the
“formulator.”
London Man Of The
World
(London, England) of July 29, 1891
So, another hint
that the idea of a sandwich made from toasted bread may have been a popular
offering at the English gentleman’s club.
The investigation
of the evolution of multi-layered sandwiches is taking a little more time, and
will probably provide fodder for another post in the future. They were
certainly common in the first decade of the twentieth century, but I feel sure
that their existence can be pushed back a little further.
As for the
American connection, I give you a couple of mentions from the early twentieth
century:
Lawmakers at Lunch: What Statesmen eat in the
Capitol Cafes.
…. while Vreeland, of New York,
finds no other luncheon quite so satisfactory as a club sandwich.
The Washington Post of 27 May 1900.
And from The Washington Post of 12 August 1905,
an article taken from the Baltimore
News about a self-styled expert in the art of making a club-sandwich, who
includes his own personal recipe:
Dr. George D. Cromwell, of St.
Paul, lifted off the top piece of toast, in the café of Joyce’s.
“They say there is nothing in
which a man with a good stomach is so fastidious as sandwiches and coffee,” he
remarked. And by the way he imports coffee, and says it is all a mistake that
there isn’t a pound of genuine Java or Mocha in this country, and that its all
used up in England. There’s loads of it, he says.
“But speaking of sandwiches,” he
continued, cutting into a choice chunk of chicken, “I think I make the best
club sandwich and the best oyster stew in the world. It’s like carrying coals
to Newcastle to talk about my oyster stew in Maryland, but the sandwich –
listen: People, as a rule, don’t know how to toast bread. Bread should be just
browned, not toasted in the oven or in an ordinary toaster. The best way is to
cut your slice medium thick from a fresh and close-kneaded loaf. Have ready
some slices of mealy chicken, without a grain of toughness in it some broiled
ham, some crisp bacon, some fresh and young lettuce, some mayonnaise dressing,
and a hot pot of coffee. If you like them, some thin slices of tomato, or
better still, the tomato pulp crushed. Now, throw your bread on the lid of a
hot stove, and the minute it starts to smoke, turn it quickly. When it is
browned, but not hardened, take off and butter generously. Lay on a cover of
lettuce, next a piece of bacon, then your chicken, then your mayonnaise, then
another piece of toast, piping hot. Then another piece of lettuce, a slice pf
ham, a layer of tomato, chicken again, mayonnaise again, plenty of lettuce, and
your third slice of toast. A club sandwich, to be right, should always be three
stories high, with bacon in one slice and ham in the other. This sounds thick
and clumsy, but it depends upon how you make it. And a club sandwich without coffee
isn’t worth eating.”
Recipe books are
known to lag behind common practice, sometimes by several years, and sometimes
much more. I was therefore delighted to find a genuine toasted bread,
multi-layered, pretty traditionally-filled and well-mayonnaised club sandwich
in a cookery book of 1899. An American
cookery book, I might add.
Club Sandwiches.
(Steamer Priscilla style.)
Have ready four
triangular pieces of toasted bread spread with mayonnaise dressing; cover two
of these with lettuce, lay thin slices of cold chicken (white meat) upon the
lettuce, over this arrange slices of broiled breakfast bacon, then lettuce, and
cover with the other triangles of toast spread with mayonnaise. Trim neatly,
arrange on a plate, and garnish with heart leaves of lettuce dipped in
mayonnaise.
Salads, sandwiches
and chafing-dish dainties, by Janet McKenzie (Boston, 1899)
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