In 1762, playboy Earl John Montagu was on another one of his marathon gambling benders. Displaying humility and a work ethic typical of the British gentry, Montagu ordered his personal chef to make his meals in a way that wouldn’t interrupt his game of Blackjack. With the ingenuity befitting a class long obligated to fulfill frivolous requests from degenerate blue bloods for barely any pay, the earl’s personal chef gave him meat in between two pieces of toasted bread. The idea went viral, and the Brits soon named the popular creation in honor of Mr. Montagu, the fourth Earl of Sandwich (obviously deserved…had it not been for the earl’s admirable gambling habit, the foodstuff would have never materialized.) Such was the genesis of the modern sandwich.
Today, the sandwich is much more than the meal of choice for gambling addicted earls and their personal staffs. It’s become the official food of elementary school students and the elderly alike–according to Google, the average American currently eats a staggering 193 sandwiches a year. To borrow “30 Rock’s” Liz Lemon’s official worldview, “All of humankind has one thing in common. The sandwich. I believe that all anyone really wants in this life is to sit in peace and eat a sandwich.”
But the sandwich has also experienced a culinary renaissance in the past decade or so. It’s broken beyond the Wonder Bread, baloney and Little Mermaid lunchbox paradigms. Today, the sandwich is having its very own “cupcake moment”–joining the Food Network-driven trend of gussying up otherwise unremarkable American staples with creative flavor combinations, artisan ingredients and a barrage of relevant reality TV programming.
Nowhere is this more obvious than the Stanford campus, where sandwich places and sandwich fans abound. Going off-campus to get a Saturday “morning” (read: 1 p.m.) sandwich is a social ritual arguably as sacrosanct as pre-gaming. The Sunday afternoon line at Cheese House is often a bigger scene than the line to get into Theta Delt the night before.
For those of you uninitiated into the world of campus sandwich-ing, here’s a brief guide:
The Village Cheese House
Often considered the gold standard of the Stanford sandwich scene, The Village Cheese House has been serving happy customers in Palo Alto since 1959. Like many Palo Alto natives, I’ll never forget the Cheese House’s old funky wood-paneled space, which always smelled vaguely like pickled herring and sold strange, inedible Danish snacks. The newly renovated Cheese House bears none of its old eccentricities, but the sandwiches are as good as they’ve always been–stuffed with fresh produce, incredible roast beef and the mysterious but wonderful “original spread.” A typical sandwich costs $7.99; the store is open 10 a.m-6 p.m. Monday through Saturday and 11 a.m.-5 p.m. on Sundays.
Ike’s Place
A splashy newcomer to the Stanford sandwich scene (it opened on campus in fall of 2010), Ike’s place has been a huge success. Located on the ground floor of the Huang Engineering Center, the Stanford Ike’s is a peninsula outpost of a franchise made famous by wildly popular locations in San Francisco. The original San Francisco Ike’s was in fact so popular that the neighborhood complained about it, forcing its removal. Stanford’s Ike’s suffers a similar fate; lines can be long and pre-ordering services unreliable. But if you can stomach the wait, Ike’s delivers. The sandwiches are the most nouveau and innovative of anything around campus; this isn’t the plain turkey sandwich of your elementary school days. Rather, the menu at Ike’s is notable for its great sauces, random ingredients (like mozzarella sticks) and panoply of meat-free options. I’ll always be a fan of the Menage à Trois–all the standard sandwich fixings plus shredded chicken with barbeque sauce, honey (really) and three kinds of cheese on a Dutch Crunch roll. A full Menage à Trois will set you back $9.99; a half, $5.95. Ike’s is open 10 a.m-7 p.m. Monday through Friday and 10 a.m.-5 p.m. on weekends.
JJ & F Food Store
JJ & F sandwiches have a cult following on campus. It might not have instant name recognition, but frequent customers have a fierce loyalty to the place. “If the state of California allowed for marriage between a man and a sandwich,” said weekly JJ & F patron Tristan Kruth ‘12, “I would marry a JJ & F sandwich.”
Disciples say these sandwiches (although less daring in composition than alternatives) have an edge over all the rest for freshness of ingredients. Plus, JJ & F is located just off El Camino Real, only a few doors down from the so-called “Sorority Starbucks” (convenient if you’ve just spent the night in the Cowell Cluster!). A sandwich runs $6.99. JJ & F is open 8 a.m.-9 p.m. Monday through Friday, 8 a.m.-8 p.m. on Saturday and 9 a.m.-8 p.m. on Sunday.
Draeger’s Supermarket
Draeger’s is a proverbial dark horse on the sandwich scene; it’s a little bit farther away from campus (a 10-minute drive into lovely Menlo Park), and I’ve personally never seen another Stanford student there. Rather, on Sunday mornings, Draeger’s is a sea of moms in Lululemons buying paper towels marked up to twice what Safeway would charge. But the small deli counter in the front produces really, really wonderful sandwiches–in the mold of JJ & F, but with more diversified meat options and the phenomenal “Draeger’s Spread” (chipotle and mayonnaise). Added bonus: Draeger’s also makes awesome chocolate chip cookies–the perfect post-sandwich indulgence. A standard sandwich is $6.99. Draeger’s is open daily 7 a.m.-10 p.m.