Why won’t you starve if you’re lost in the Desert? Because of the ‘sand which is’ there.
“Sandwiches always taste better cut in half,” she said to me. The Spanish for sandwich is emparedado; em-par; from the Latin for in-pair or two. Two pieces of bread; halved for easy eating. Practical perhaps but it may have less to do with tradition and more to do with psychology.
It may be a Freudian thing. Since you were mollified between mom’s breasts she’s been preparing meals for you--- cutting everything into snack-sized pieces. Those were good eats; fresh and hand made.
Quality may have little to do with love and lots to do with time. Chefs focus on the sauce, the chicken, the combination of flavor. At home we throw it together in five minutes while checking our Instagram feed. One hand swiping, one hand stirring.
Half for now, half for later. A matter both practical and gratifying. Living on the run the Hero is our hero. Slowing down we can spruce it up; crusty breads and flavorful sauces; heated up or melting, soft bread or toasted, the tongue is treated to a mix of texture and taste. Enjoy the sandwich now with all its unique flavor and texture. Crunch of apple, bacon or celery, sweet onion, relish or jalapeno marmalade. You rise from the table full, knowing that you get half the sandwich later again; when you want it. Satiating and delaying gratification the sandwich meets us where we live.
Not only where we live. The sandwich is international. If you liberally define international as ‘something you can eat between grain-grown bread- like food.’ That would include tortilla, pita and flatbread. Donuts and French toast count too. There’s no limit on what can become a sandwich.
Though without borders (and with or without crust) the sandwich is intimately personal. Mayo, mustard, jalapeno, grilled, pickle, avocado, pita, white, wheat…. the list is endless. On the run or at the table, nouveau or like mom made it, one-handed or two, the sandwich fits the bill better by half.