Super Nerd Sundays Presents: Sandwiches I Have Loved!

I'd like to preface today's SNS with an apology both for the quality of the writing and the lateness of the post. I had much grander plans for this essay and they simply didn't come together due to the simultaneous trials of moving, computer repair and being really, really sleepy. Still, I hope there's something to enjoy here.

Long standing readers will recall that when I first started this site I began with the caveat that I would write about more than just games. And while the focus over the year and a half has mostly fallen upon electronic entertainment I have occasionally taken the opportunity to write about random shit and run with it, investigating a wide range of topics no one cares about and which most people are somewhat embarrassed to discuss and tying it into video games in some obtuse way.

Today’s essay won’t be anything like that. I won’t be mapping the cosmology of food in games or the way portrayals of food in most popular entertainment media actually inform the function of food in games (although now that I say those topics out loud they sound pretty good). I won’t be talking about the way food factors in to “game nights” and other social gatherings centered around sitting and playing games for hours on end. Today I’ll just be talking about some sandwiches that changed my life forever.

1 ) The NoMacPoBoy from the Vegan Barbecue truck across the street from Portland State’s engineering campus (with Shut the Fuck Up Puppies).

I’m still not really sure if this even qualifies as a sandwich, to be totally honest. The way it is presented is similar to a burrito, but unlike a burrito there is no rice, no cheese and no meat. Beans, perhaps, live within its hallowed folds, but for the most part it is an indescribable conglomerate of various protein products assembled for the express purpose of blowing the minds of sucker MCs the world over. Ergo I will refer to it under the more generalized sandwich blanket of “wraps.”

As a wrap the NoMacPoBoy has absolutely nothing in common with more traditional light sandwiches. There is no drizzled salad dressing teasing out the flavor of meat hidden amongst vegetables. Instead the inside of the sandwich is a tempest of macaroni and nocheese, beans, peppers and soy curls, a struggle for dominance against a collection of worthy sandwich foes. What remained more impressive was the way the flavors remained both complimentary and distinct under the most unfavorable eating conditions.

Even as I gulped down a sandwich during the remaining ten minutes of my lunch as my co-worker showed me unsolicited pictures of her child, complete with a lengthy recounting of both her child’s thoughts, her own thoughts and the thoughts of her high school friend who she saw at Wal-Mart that weekend but didn’t talk to because she was kind of a bitch but she wanted to talk to her so she kind of regrets not talking to her but hey maybe next time, my joy at my sandwich remained unabated. What was even more impressive was the way it settled after eating. I felt weightless after my poboy’s duty was fulfilled, as if I’d been struck by a friendly bolt of lightning who just wanted to hang out.

The NoMacPoBoy remains, in my mind, a lunchtime bastion, and a perfect example of a how vegan food can not only be delicious but how it can present brand new dining experiences, not just alterations of existing ones. A fine sandwich in its own right, the NoMacPoBoy also serves as a sort of mission statement for the sandwich startup that sells it: this is a place of original, cheap, delicious cuisine. Eat it or don’t, it does not require your validation. I find that sort of bold antipathy sexy in a sandwich, and the NoMacPoBoy made me a better person by almost-raping my taste buds and leaving me panting, breathless in an alley with no pants.

2 ) The Sweet Onion Teriyaki Sub with swiss, peppers and onions from the Frackville, Pennsylvania Subway

Frackville is not a large place. The main drag, sprung up to service travelers moving south along I-85, is less than three miles long and consists primarily of eateries and quick-stores like Walgreens and Buy Rite. But each year for some time my family would visit Frackville, stopping for lunch at Frackville’s marvelous Subway restaurant.

It was a ritual of sorts, a small comfort in a trip riddled with unpleasant regularities. My brother and I were each permitted a footlong sandwich of our own (lap of luxury!) with a choice of large chip bags, to be shared throughout the car at the Rite Aid next door. For years I took solace in the same sandwich, time and time again: the BLT without the T. I was young and foolish, a poor excuse for my transgression at best, but still there I was, eating my simple sandwich when the wonders of Subway stood ready for the taking. Was the taste of the crisp bacon a comfort as I faced the terror of the holidays with my family? Certainly, but it robbed me of all other potential sandwiches.

As I grew older, luckily, I began to experiment. At first it was furtive – perhaps I’d have tomato or green peppers placed ‘pon my sandwich, along with the requisite bacon. But after lengthy consideration I decided to try different sandwich types. The first, and I dare say the best, was the infinitely egalitarian Sweet Onion Teriyaki Sub with swiss, peppers and onions (hereafter referred to as SOTSSPO).

“Double onions?” you no doubt cry, dear reader. Indeed, it is true. Even in my youth I was given to the most callous of excess, demanding onions left and right, manners be damned. The SOTSSPO catered to all comers: those who enjoyed the illusion of health with their meals, those who liked their chicken doused in sauce of dubious origin and those who liked cheese in inappropriate places, all the important categories of Subway customer populating the Frackville store.

And what’s more, the SOTSSPO was delicious. While, like all Subway sandwiches, it took more than its due in pride, it delivered plenty to make up for it in taste and fulfillment. It helped me sleep on that long car ride to Maryland and when I arrived with a full stomach I didn’t care how flavorless my grandmother’s boiled green beans were. I’d climbed to the top of the mountain and it was good. If the world insisted that I dither in the hinterlands for a while as retribution, so be it.

Eventually, however, health code violations and alterations to our travel route destroyed my relationship with the SOTSSPO of Frackville origin. While other SOTSSPOs exist out there somewhere I’m sure, they are not my SOTSSPO, and as such I feel only sadness when I consider them.

3 ) Homemade Hummus and Pepper Pita

This sandwich is here mostly for honorable mention. I ate almost nothing but humus and pepper on pita for roughly two months in 2009. The handcrafted hummus made it better than other people’s sandwiches, not because it was actually tastier or even better for me, but because I could act like a douche and brag about having made it. Total hipsters seduced thusly: zero.

4 ) New England’s Chicken Parmesan Sub

Much like the SOTSSPO, the Chicken Parm is an everyman’s sandwich. It’s a sandwich that sub and pizza shop workers throughout the Northeast hear with deep regret. If they were a more enthusiastic bunch they might even deign to shake their heads in sadness, but food service in New England takes something out of a man and leaves him hollow.

But the Chicken Parm is noteworthy because, unlike the SOTSSPO, its consumption is not shameful. Right now writing this my mouth is watering at the prospect of the marinara and breaded chicken making sweet sweet love to my tongue’s face over its mumbled, unclear protests. The Chicken Parm is delicious, and none would ever disagree.

Sure, there are reasons you wouldn’t order one. Variety, health, a desire to mix up the hellscape the food service worker you’re purchasing your sandwich from’s day by having him make something other than Chicken Parm for once. Maybe you just felt like a steak bomb. It’s not important, because sooner or later you’ll be back to the Chicken Parm. And that’s partially because unlike the SOTSSPO, which I enjoy partially because it renders me unconscious, the Chicken Parm is an invigorating experience.

Despite the use of the word Parmesan in the sandwich’s name don’t be fooled. While cheese is involved in any true Chicken Parm the true beauty of the sandwich comes from the mixture of the chicken and the marinara sauce. The combination of texture and flavor is something no other sandwich can offer. While others may try we need look no further than the heap o’ fail that is the eggplant Parmesan to see just how foolhardy these efforts are.

And so the Chicken Parm is less an everyman’s sub and more a sub for every man – regardless of race, class or creed. Everyone loves Chicken Parm. Except vegans, and they’re douchebags.

And so I close this discussion of sandwiches, leaving you with the chilling realization that I didn’t mention video games once Monkey Island.