Week 10: But Is It A Sandwich?

I make a lot of interesting sandwiches at my apartment. And by interesting, I mean "really, really good." It's a bit of a stretch to call making a sandwich cooking, but the amount of time and dedication that I put forth in making my sandwiches definitely has me feeling like a sandwich expert.

That being said... I'm not really sure how I would actually define what a sandwich truly is. First and foremost, a sandwich has to be designed to be eaten by hand. Some sandwiches - like the ones seen on Man V. Food - simply have to be eaten with a knife and a fork. But since I am rarely going to put myself in such a ridiculous situation, in my opinion, sandwiched have to be eaten by hand. Secondly, there has to be bread. And besides that, I'm not really sure; I've never been analytical about sandwiches before, so this should be interesting.

Hot Dogs: I want to say that hot dogs are sandwiches, because they pass both of my criteria, but something is holding me back. Hot dogs truly have their own unique identity - they have a lot going for them, and there is enough variety in how they are prepared that they exist in their own unique bubble. Not a sandwich.

Hamburgers: Eh, I guess you can say that hamburgers are sandwiches in an extremely traditional sense. They really are sandwiches in an extremely traditional sense: buns, token lettuce and tomatoes to present the idea of eating healthily, meat. If anything on this list is a sandwich, its the hamburger. I kind of want one from McDonald's right now.

Quesadilla: No way in hell are quesadillas going to pass as sandwiches. The cheese factor just totally makes them exist in their own stratosphere; a very delicious stratosphere to be sure, but they just aren't sandwiches. Sure, you can eat them with your hands. Sure, they have bread. But I'd liken them more to giant stuffed tortilla chips, because they are generally consumed by getting dipped in various salsas. Not a sandwich.

Crepes: Nope. While I love crepes, especially stuffed crepes, I'm kind of baffled that we are even discussing their validity on this list. They clearly are more of a pastry than anything else; to be fair, I've never had a crepe stuffed with anything other than foods that compliment its sweetness, and I know that they can be served in a more sandwich-y fashion. For me, though, crepes will always be more of a dessert than a breakfast, and more of a breakfast than a sandwich. Sorry.

Piroshki: What? I've never even heard the term piroshki before. Based on the picture, it looks like a meat-filled pastry, kind of like a classier version of a hot pocket. Regardless, I don't want to call this a sandwich; it looks like something that you would toss in a microwave. Not saying I wouldn't eat it, but I defintiley wouldn't refer to that as a sandwich.

SO, in review, I'd consider the hamburger to be a sandwich, while every other option on the list is something completely different. I guess I'm kind of a stiffler about my sandwiches.

Week 8: Myer's is right!

I've taken pretty much everything that we've covered in this course for absolute fact, agreeing with the arguments being made simply because they were the only ones to listen to. Never thinking to question the pretentiousness of the authors, stories or cooking shows, I blindly subscribed to every idea and thought passed through me. And, while I've learned a lot in this class, B.R. Myers brings up some very valid points about the snobbery of so-called 'foodies,' people that, in their own mind, are the best representatives that food culture has to offer.

First thing I thought of when Myers begins calling out this sub-cultural group was the ever-growing 'hipster' caricature - essentially the new millennium's most prominent counter-cultural movement, they are people that enjoy being ironic just a little too much, pushing themselves to great lengths to prove that they don't subscribe to cultural norms and fads. They will perpetually be out of reach to a normal person, spending most of their time bathing in their own arrogance while wearing skinny jeans, riding fixed-gear bikes and telling you that your favorite band was their favorite band before they sold out.

This same kind of elitist douchebagery is very present in the 'foodies' culture that Myers describes. Similar to hipsters, foodies apparently love to live a life that a normal person can't imagine. I've never met somebody this obsessed with food (pretty sure that you have to be a bit older than twenty, though), but if I did, I'm sure that I wouldn't enjoy their company. It's one thing to have a hobby, but something completely different to use that hobby as a way to exclude most people. Which, if Myers is correct, is exactly what a foodie does.

I found the writing in this article to be particularly funny. It's pretty hard to argue that the people he discusses are total snobs, and he uses anecdotes and excerpts from foodie-related literature and writing to hammer his point home. I enjoyed his discussion of trends: a couple hundred years ago, over-indulgence on meat was in vogue, mostly because the everyday man couldn't afford it. Nowadays, with all of the controversy surrounding food standards, it's cool for foodies to shop locally. I can totally envision one of these pricks at a dinner party:

"Oh, you shop at Kroger? Well, I guess that's okay... we buy from the farmer's market. Yeah, I know, a bit more expensive, but at least we're helping the environment and the local economy, right?"

Assholes.