Our national debt currently stands at $40 trillion (that’s trillion with a “t.”) and rising. We are at war with an intractable enemy that we were assured would last four to five weeks. It has been six months and the enemy is as intractable as ever. If it isn’t 95 degrees outside, it’s raining. There are too many irritating commercials on TV. My knees hurt. My smartwatch is smarter than I am. So, what to do? Make a peanut butter and jelly (strawberry) sandwich. And eat it. Comfort food.
Comfort food is described as any food that makes you feel happy, safe, or relaxed when you are sad, stressed, or sick. That is why God invented the PBJ. Well, actually God didn’t the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. John Montagu did. The 4th Earl of Sandwich. Not peanut butter and jelly butter precisely, but the idea of taking two pieces of bread and putting something between them. I bring this to your attention because August is National Sandwich Month.
The earl was an important man back in the 18th century in England. During his illustrious career, he was at various times First Lord of the Admiralty, Postmaster General and a Secretary of State. He seems to have done a commendable job in all those assignments but he will always be credited for creating the humble sandwich.
The legend is that the earl was an inveterate gambler and did not want to take the time out to have a meal during his long hours at the card table. Consequently, he would ask his servants to bring him some slices of meat between two slices of bread. That way, you could eat with one hand and handle the cards with the other. It must have worked. According to the story, his gambling buddies liked the idea so much they began to order “the same as Sandwich.” Thus was born the “sandwich.”
But sandwich historians (who knew there were such a thing?) say that Hillel the Elder, the venerated Jewish leader and scholar beat Montagu to the concept 2,000 years earlier by wrapping lamb meat and bitter herbs between two pieces of matzoh (unleavened bread) during Passover. He obviously had the idea first, but Montagu gets the credit. Life can be unfair. As Hillel the Elder observed, “My humiliation is my exaltation; my exaltation is my humiliation.” I don’t know if he was specifically referring to not getting credit for inventing the sandwich, but I like the quote even if I don’t understand it.
I am glad Montagu was the Earl of Sandwich. I’m not sure how these things work, but he could just as easily have been the Earl of Snodland, a town about an hour west of the Sandwich, down in southeast England. Can you imagine his gambling buddies getting hungry and ordering “the same as Snodland?” That means that today you and I would be walking into our favorite deli and ordering a BLT snodland or a ham and cheese snodland on rye. And this column would be devoted to informing you that August is National Snodland Month, with the editors wondering, “With all the bad stuff going on in the world, why is this guy taking up precious space to talk about snodlands? Maybe we need to find us somebody to write something our readers would find of interest, like how to macramé a lampshade.”
According to the U. S. Department of Agriculture, a sandwich must have at least 35% cooked meat and no more than 50% bread. That makes no more sense than Hillel the Elder talking about exalted humiliation (or was it the other way around?) If I was the U.S. government, I’d worry more about reducing our national debt a trillion or two dollars and getting us out of a four-to-five week war that’s been going on for 6 months and quit worrying about what constitutes a sandwich. Besides. there are a lot of sandwiches. Wikipedia lists 234 different kinds of sandwiches from all over the world and I suspect there are even more.
It’s still too hot outside, the TV commercials are still irritating, my knees still hurt and my smartwatch is still smarter than I am. But that’s okay. I’m not stressed. I’m not sad. I’ve got my comfort food. I’ve got my peanut butter and jelly (strawberry) sandwich. Thank you, Earl of Sandwich, wherever you are and I’m glad you weren’t in Snodland. That would really have been stressful.
You can reach Dick Yarbrough at dick@dickyarbrough.com or at P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139
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