It has come to my attention that our society has placed far too many rules on what it means to be a sandwich. Two pieces of bread are necessary, you say? One piece folded over?
Sandwiches, once you begin to look for them, are all around us. They are pressed, baked and, oh yes, deep fried. Making a sandwich requires nothing more than accepting you can wrap a carb around anything and eat it with your hands.
This may sound like American gluttony. But I assure you, the world encourages sandwiches. And in a multicultural city, you can find sandwiches everywhere you look.
Is a hamburger a sandwich?
Yes, a hot beef sandwich.
What about a hot dog?
Meat plus bread equals sandwich.
Hmm. What about an empanada?
Once you accept an empanada into your heart as a sandwich, there's no limit to your culinary spiritual growth.
This is the Church of Sandwich. All are welcome.
Stromboli? Calzone?
These are Italian empandas, so sandwiches.
A pita? A gyro?
Pocket sandwiches.
Y un burrito. Es un sandwich?
Claro que si, hermano.
And an arepa? That's definitely not a sandwich, right?
Ever had a reina pepiada? You should. It's delicious. A delicious chicken salad sandwich.
But what about dumplings?
Pan-fried or steamed? Doesn't matter. You're eating a tiny sandwich.
But what about a wrap! A wrap can't be a sandwich.
Where do you buy a wrap? In a sandwich shop.
This is nuts. By your definition a spring roll is a sandwich. Wait, is it?
That's the best kind of sandwich — a fried sandwich.
A Hot Pocket?
A sandwich that will burn the roof of your mouth.
A Pop Tart?
A dessert sandwich
I just ordered a lettuce wrap. I guess that's a sandwich?
No. That's tightly rolled salad.
