Man Sandwiches

By Elaine Viets

I found out about the major difference between men and women on the fourth day of our honeymoon. Don and I were staying at the Plaza Hotel in New York, before it was Trumped.

The night before, I’d polished off a bottle of champagne mixed with four bottles of Guinness stout. Don called this concoction a Black Velvet.

It went down smooth and wicked. It woke me up, mean and nasty. At two in the morning, I didn’t feel like I’d been drinking Black Velvet. I felt like I’d been eating old carpets. My stomach heaved and churned like the storm-tossed North Atlantic. A gale of acid indigestion was going on down there.

I crawled into the bathroom and lay down on the cool tile floor. The hotel housekeeper would find me in the morning, dead. I could wear my wedding dress in my coffin. Right now, I just wanted to throw up and die.

Don poked his head in the bathroom and said, "Are you all right?" He was repulsively cheerful.

"Uhhhh," I groaned, like a creature from a freshly opened tomb.

"Reuben’s deli is open all night," he said. "Can I get you something to soothe your stomach?"

It wasn’t fair. The man drank more than I did, and he looked like he’d spent the night swilling soda water. I summoned the strength for a deathbed request.

"Just a little white meat of turkey," I said. "On a slice of white bread."

I put my head on the rim of the cool white commode and fell asleep.

Next thing I knew, Don was back with a disgusting, smelly, paper-wrapped mound. He had an innocent, proud look, like a retriever that had just brought a dead rabbit into the living room.

In this case it was a dead turkey. A full pound, covered with pickles, onions and sour cream, all of it swimming on a raft of Russian rye. My stomach lurched.

"You beast!" I screamed. "How could you do this?"

"You said you wanted turkey," he said, looking puzzled.

I slammed the door to the bathroom. The sandwich smell was so strong it invaded the whole room. While I lay dying, Don not only ate his pastrami, he also ate the monstrous turkey, onion and sour cream sandwich.

The next morning, I nibbled soda crackers for breakfast and wondered if it was too late to have the marriage annulled. I’d been married five days and I’d made a terrible mistake. Any man who would bring a sandwich like that to a dying woman was too insensitive to be married.

That was my awful intro to the man-made sandwich. From what I could figure out, a man-made sandwich has nothing to do with the sandwiches that women make. We prefer dainty creations made with healthy whole-grain bread, lettuce, watercress and other vegetables, free-range chicken and white meat of turkey, and when we’re feeling reckless, fat-free mayo.

A man-made sandwich looks like the guy cleaned out the fridge and put it on bread. It may have leftover pot roast, barbecue, chicken, pork chops, cole slaw, or potato salad. Pickles, relishes, onions, red pepper, black pepper and strange objects floating in vinegar in the jars on the side shelves are acceptable. Real mayo is a must. Hot sauce, hot mustard and spicy ketchup will do. Butter is always better. Deep-fat frying, in the finest Elvis tradition, is the making of a man’s sandwich.

Lettuce belongs in a salad bowl. Whole grains are for rabbits. Rye and dark bread are good, but should be used sparingly. They could be borderline healthy. Spongy pillow bread is ideal.

Back when I did television, I ate a pig-ear sandwich on camera. That’s a deep-fried pig’s ear, covered in barbecue sauce and potato salad and served on a white bun.

"I can’t eat that thing," I told my agent.

"Shut up," she said. "People have eaten worse to advance their careers."

Comments

[Pam aka SisterZip]

Elaine said: "Shut up," she said. "People have eaten worse to advance their careers."

Can we say Monica?

[JodiL]

There's something about those cool tile floors in hotel bathrooms. After way too many Manhattans at the Carlyle in New York, I, too, found the cool tile floor. Dear hubby thought I had the flu.

[Becky Hutchison]

I know what you mean, Elaine. I know a guy who has an iron stomach...and I'm not talking about the flat kind! He can eat food that's been sitting in the frig for weeks! Yuck! For me, if it's more than three days old...out it goes. While I must admit I like mayo & yellow mustard, I gag at the thought of anything fried (except for MickeyD's french fries).

My husband, daughter & son will eat anything spicy...the hotter the better...while my delicate taste buds prefer mild herbs instead. I like to taste the actual ingredients of my food, not burn my mouth so bad that I can't appreciate any of the food I've lovingly selected and cooked for my family.

Oh, and my most memorable toilet bowl-hugging experience? After four Rusty Nails -- eewwww -- NEVER, EVER, AGAIN!!!

[mary alice at mystery lovers bookshop]

Oh, Elaine! What a great blog.I say go for the gusto!
In my history, it's the Sunday after church special......toasted white bread with bacon, iceburg lettuce, tomato, a fried egg and mayo.......bliss! Napkin essential. For my kids it was "the Saturday-night Special"---a hamburger bun, chipped ham, American cheese and relish wrapped in foil and baked to perfection!
It's easy to see how you two are still together.....any guy who goes out for a deli rx is a keeper!
ma

[Tom]

Notice how we start in early on Elaine's Days?

Now, John Steed would never have brought Emma such a gastronomic holocaust. He'd never have mixed Guinness with champagne, either . . .

But Steed has the advantage of being fictional. William will confirm Steed once dispatched an opponent by use of a cucumber sandwich. Not that Don isn't a mighty operator himself. Why, surely he could have done the deed in real life . . . with a pickle spear.

[Peg H]

Okay, I have a cast iron stomach. I love monster sandwiches on hearty breads and at a local bar where a friend worked as bartender I hold the record for the most Long Island Iced Teas downed in one sitting. No hangover, no upset stomach, and the room did not spin. Spicy food? The spicier the better! Does this make me less of a woman? ;)

[William Simon]

Oh, Elaine. That had to be miserable. Champagne causes the most brutal hangovers known to man. I've never had the courage for Black Velvets myself, so I commend you on that. But geez, the price one pays. At this point in life, wave a bar rag under my nose and I'll be hungover next morning. Somehow, I don't miss the Morning Afters....:) I've become a serious connoisseur of Club Soda. If the barman has enough class to have root beer available, well, he's made a friend for life.

And, yes, Tom, the Cucumber Sandwich. No well-dressed gentleman will face an opponent without one!

[L.L. Bartlett]

Lesson learned: Never drink three (regular-sized) wine glasses of cream sherry followed by a pizza.

Never, never, never!

[Nancy martin]

I think a sandwhich should have one kind of meat---unless the second meat is a slice of ham or a little bacon for the saltiness factor. But my husband loves turkey and ham and roast beef and "Italian ham" all mixed together. With some goopy dressing and probably a little mayo, too. And a Yuengling, of course. Erg. Just thinking of it makes my tummy uneasy.

Is everybody heading over to visit Joshilyn Jackson's site today? It's only polite.

[Maryann Mercer]

I'm with William...club soda and lime.
(Of course an occasional glass of pinot grigio is nice, but I don't do hard liquor well)
I was raised on man sandwiches. Cucumber and watercress? Afternoon tea at The Empress or Palm Court, but any other time, pastrami or corned beef on rye. Or a turkey club. And I insist on good hearty bread to go with the meat and cheeses. Mayo not so much, but mustard is good. I think it's genetic...we Scot/Germans need our strength :o)

[Karen in Ohio]

When I was a kid, my very German dad used to make limburger cheese sandwiches on rye, with a slice of raw onion (a good, thick one), and lots of yellow mustard. You could smell it all over the house, and heck, probably three blocks away, too. Washed it down with a glass of beer, naturally. A friend of ours likes these, too, and he usually gets one at Oktoberfest. I had no idea they even served them there! Never had the guts to try one, myself.

The drunkest I ever got, and the quickest, was on four glasses of champagne after a party we had. I had cooked and cleaned all day, and had neglected to eat until it was too late to do any good. Yuck.

[Kathy Reschini Sweeney]

We have a place here called Primanti Brothers, and we make a damn fine sandwich - between two slices of white bread, you get your choice of meat(s), cheese, garden (lettuce, tomato, onion), cole slaw and french fries. That's right. Fries right in the sandwich.

The best time to eat this delicacy is about 2 in the morning. The theory is that it soaks up all that booze in the system. It also fills you up and makes you sleepy.

Second best sandwich in Pittsburgh is the grilled Rachel - a Reuben sandwich with turkey instead of corned beef. The Square Cafe's is fantastic, but it's only on special sometimes.

I still drink, but the older I get, the more strictly enforce the "Do not mix" rule. Whatever you start out drinking, you stick. That, and lots of water in between drinks has kept me from that cool tile on the bathroom floor.

[michele]

Ha ha, great blog topic, Elaine!

The only thing I can eat when terribly hung over is plain pasta or rice. For a mild hangover, scrambled eggs and toast will do the trick. And even on a good day, the wildest sandwich I'll eat is a turkey club!

I agree with Nancy about not mixing meats, but my husband loves a big Italian grinder with ham and salami and onion and peppers and all sorts of crazy stuff. All the men in my family, including the mini men, love a Philly cheese steak, which -- no offense to the Keystone Staters on this blog -- absolutely turns my stomach.

[Pam aka SisterZip]

The worst 'after' experience I have ever had was when I was 20. My date & I went with his friends to see Jaws the day it was released, July 4, 1975. After the movie we went to his friends house & tried to decide which appliance made the best strawberry daquiries, a juicer or blender. Then we went out for Jack-in-the-Box tacos.

OMG!

[KateRoth]

When I was a kid and mom wasn't around to make lunch, my dad would cut thick slices of baloney, fry them in a skillet until brown and oozing grease, then put them on Wonder Bread with with lots of Miracle Whip. His other specialty was thick greasy hamburgers, also served on Wonder Bread with Miracle Whip. (This was the theme of all my dad's culinary efforts, grease/white bread/Miracle Whip).

The worst 'morning after' I ever had involved pitchers of margaritas, waking up shortly before dawn in a cold waterbed, (the heater had gone out during the night), crawling out of bed and trying to make it to the bathroom while shaking violently from a combination of hypothermia and intense nausea. I'll spare you the details of what followed, but over 25 years later I still can't drink margaritas.

[Karen in Ohio]

The worst sandwich I've ever had, ordered off a menu without a clue, was the Monte Cristo. It's a multi-meat and cheese affair that is deep-fried, if you can believe it. There were so many calories on that plate it was obscene, especially since it came with a mountain of fries. No alcohol was necessary to make me sick after a few bites of that one.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monte_Cristo_sandwich

[Harley]

My worst hangover was on red wine. I can't tell you the name of the offending grape, but if there'd been a gun in the house, I'd have shot myself. And we were far into the wilds of upstate New York and no one had thought to bring Tylenol on the weekend expedition. Nightmare.

When I was pregnant (years later, don't worry) I used to fantacize about BLTs, the kind I ate as a teenager, before Vegetarianism set in. And club sandwiches. I actually got close to one, but couldn't actually bring myself to eat it. I just liked the mental taste of it.

[Elaine Viets]

Cream sherry and a pizza -- hoo boy. I'd be checkig the obit pages for my name.
"mental taste" is a terrific image, Harley. If I could "mental taste" more food, I'd be a lot thinner.

[Kerry]

Great blog, Elaine, and a testament to you that you're still married after that :)

Worst hangover -- mixing alcohols and other substances during and after an awkward party at an ex's place (hosted by his current . . .). That was my one and only blackout event. But the worst "hugging" experience was just wine and herb. Now I'm just really careful: 1-2 drinks and I'm done.

I love sandwiches, but do require the hearty whole-grain bread. Nancy, I'm with you -- one meat, please, and not too much of it. My big downfall is the cheese - love it, love it, love it!

[Elaine Viets]

Waterbeds -- how could I forget what a hangover felt like when I woke up on a waterbed. That sloshing was brutal.

[Marcia in OK]

Congratulations Sarah on The Sleeping Beauty Proposal being an RWA Rita Finalist - 2008 RITA for Contemporary Single Title Romance Finalists

http://www.rwanational.org/cs/2008_rita_finalists

Yeah YOU!

[Tom]

SAAAAAARRAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!!

[michele]

Hooray, Sarah!!!!!!!!! That is so great!

[Tom]

Lor' love a duck. Know what we forgot? Her, Margie's, version of a Man Sandwich.

Multiple meats are said to be involved.

This might explain the bills from the deli, Michele. And the Bills from the deli, too.

[Rita Scott]

Tom, exactly what I was thinking when I saw todays title! A 'me, Margie' exploit!! LOL
I quit drinking mixed drinks after a really horrendous hangover.
Crown on the rocks may leave me feeling disconnected the next day but never the bed spins or puking.
The only mixed meat sandwiches I like are the ones with bacon on them (turkey club) or an occasional Amaghetti's special. I really need to make a trip to The Hill!
Don't forget another St.L favorite, Elaine!
Braunsweiger & onion on rye with lots of mustard. Another German thing?