the following are two stories told to me about sandwiches. the first from my father the second my best friend.
I am going to make myself a sangwich. That is how my father pronounces sandwich. He prepares his sangwich, which almost always contains hot peppers, regaling his children with how the sandwich was invented. Back in Italy the farmer would go to work in the morning. By lunch time he would be so far out into the property, tending fields or shepherding livestock, it would take too much time to go back to the house for food. So the wife would place in her kerchief some bread and cheese a little prosciutto or salami with hot pepper and artichoke like antipasto. She would tie the kerchief up and have the dog deliver the food to her husband. Upon receiving the meal the farmer would reward the dog with a piece of meat then partake himself. There were some days when the farmer had so much work to do, he worried taking a break for eating, he would not get done before the sun became unbearable. This is how he got the idea to put all the contents of the meal together. Meat, cheese and vegetables between the bread. Making lunch time more efficient but still delicious. So while sangwich may be a British word it was the Italians who invented it. Of course, according to my father the Italians invented everything. Except pasta. It was the Chinese who made pasta but it was the Italians who put sauce on it.
I met a woman while in my third decade of life. Blonde, beautiful and perpetually single, though she had no shortage of men asking her out. Occasionally she would give one a chance and begin a relationship. Falling in immediate and stupid love followed by next day disenchantment. One day as we spoke the language of girl talk over coffee in the shape of wine. My friend revealed to me that while in bed with a lover she would often imagine what kind of sandwich she’ll be making for herself. If he would just hurry up and finish.