Once upon a time, in a dark crowded bar, the following conversation happened:
A: You know what I really really love?
H: Oh my God, me too! I love sandwiches! You know what would be really great? If we had a club where we would go to each other's houses, and eat sandwiches!
In that moment, a a new era of history began. The era of Club Sandwich.
Since February of 2004, once a month, we go to the home of a member, who has made us the sandwich of his or her choice. We eat said sandwiches. Then we engage in some activities. The first meeting of this epic union of bread and innards hit it off. We met at Heather's apartment in Koreatown for some fine sandwich cameraderie. Followed by flaming sambuca shots (that's where the debauchery comes in. Er, that's where it starts). Then we walked it off as we headed to the Escape Room, the finest dive bar in Koreatown that no longer exists (I mean, dance floor (that we dominated, literally and figuratively), solid jukebox, friendly barstaff, and erotic photo hunt. What else is there?). It was a magical night. Somehow the spirit of sandwich goodness lasted through the wee hours as we danced the night away. Something delicious was abrew.
Since then, we've had countless sandwich adventures. When Alon hosted, he offered a table full of peanut butter and everything associated with peanut butter sandwiches -- the requisite jelly, of course, but also, fluff, pickles, mayonnaise, Nutella, MnM's, and so much more. We had a contest for most creative sandwich, and then we went to his local dive for karaoke (It was here that Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline became the unofficial anthem of our motley sandwich crew). Sometimes the vibe is mellower, as we dish about relationships and seek advice from our fellow sandwichers. And we always manage to crack each other up.
Bay Cities' godmothers on the beach, and baloney sandwiches on the playground (complete with some very potent juice boxes, if you catch my drift). For Christmas each person brought a sandwich, wrapped in festive paper and bows, and we had a Secret Sant-wich gift exchange. Our resident schoolteacher offered sandwiches that have been crushed for three hours under the weight of a juice box. Last month, Maya made her triumphant return after recovering from surgery (after which her head was held together with staples. serious Frankenstein stuff going on.) with curry chicken salad sandwiches -- crunchy and spicy-sweet with apples, cashews, and celery. See? Always delicious.
Club Sandwich t-shirts made especially for us in Egyptland. Our New York correspondent has never been to Club Sandwich, but does some pretty good work on her own. We've even had imitators -- rumors of Club Noodle and Club Taco abound. Cute (ahem).
This month's Club Sandwich was at the home of our resident grillmaster Brad. It ranked up there as one of the best. Tell me this is not the perfect summer day: nachos, swimming in the ocean, barbecue, margaritas. Amazing! Brad lives in Manhattan Beach, about half a block from the beach. The house has 3 balconies, all with an ocean view. Brad whipped us up a batch of nachos to whet our appetites, then all 10 of us headed to the beach.
we swam through cool salty waves that were big enough to be interesting, small enough to be inviting, I couldn't help myself. It was that good.
Ah sandwiches, you bring so much joy to our world!