There have been books upon books written about sandwiches.

I even watched a show on PBS about nothing but sandwiches across the nation.  It proved that the sky is the limit when it comes to creating a hand-held meal.

My childhood was filled with lots of sandwiches; bologna, grilled cheese, ham and cheese, pimiento cheese and good ole peanut butter (without the jelly, thank you).  Then there are the sandwiches I later enjoyed in high school; a good egg salad or tuna fish sandwich, studded with chopped pickles and held together by good, creamy mayonnaise.  My best friend, Lou Ann, and I raided the supermarket deli at least twice a week after school.  We took home fresh-sliced deli cold cuts and cheeses for our afternoon snack.

One grandmother introduced me to extremely, thin-sliced ham. 

She called it “gibbled ham”.  Today, this thin ham is referred to as “shaved”.  This gibbled ham seldom made it between slices of bread.  I usually stuffed mounds of it in my mouth as soon as Granny and I unwrapped it on her kitchen table.  But, when it did become part of a sandwich, it was a mighty good treat, dressed with mustard on white bread.  To this day, a ham sandwich just isn’t right if it is made with thicker cut meat.

When I was a kid, Dad would take me places he ate lunch at during the work week. 

Hefty barbecue sandwiches from Angelo’s in Ft. Worth, Texas were enjoyed along with a chance to pat the real, stuffed bear standing on its hind legs on the sawdust-covered floor.  It would greet diners as they carried plates of delicious barbecue dinners to their tables.  KC’s on Berry Street was another barbecue sandwich hangout for me when I stayed with Me-Maw and Pa-Paw. 

Not too far away from KC’s was Carshon’s delicatessen. 

The man behind the counter served me my first hot pastrami on rye with brown mustard.  The pastrami is corned in-house and piled two inches high on slices of fresh rye bread.  The mustard pot is kept on table for you to slather on at will.  I didn’t know there was that factory-made pink stuff until I was a grown woman.  Once you have had house-corned pastrami, that supermarket stuff just doesn’t cut the mustard. 

And, let’s not forget the countless cheeseburgers and po’boys Daddy and I consumed on Saturdays at the Circle Drive-in. 

They went down good with a cold root beer after we had spent the morning at Western Ridge Riding Stables with horses and friends.  These were the sandwiches of my youth in Ft. Worth, Texas.

Some people would claim the hamburger The King of Sandwiches. 

I would have a hard time arguing with that.  But, in my world of sandwiches, the Club Sandwich is the undisputed ruler of Sandwichdom.  With a side of plain potato chips, a dill pickle and iced tea, this is a meal worthy of royalty.  If I was facing the executioner, a Club Sandwich would be my last meal.

The Club Sandwich came into my life rather late; around age 37.  Once hooked, I was forced to purchase my first toaster.  Yes, the bread must be lightly toasted.

Some restaurant chefs get way too cute with the Club.  Stick to a basic list of top-shelf ingredients and you will never go wrong.

The essential shopping list:

1. Sandwich bread, white or whole wheat; 3 slices, lightly toasted and cooled
2. Mayonnaise, mustard or sandwich spread of your choice
3. Sliced ham, turkey or both
4. One slice sandwich cheese; Swiss, Cheddar or American
5. Four strips of really good bacon; fried the way you like it
6. One whole leaf of crisp lettuce
7. One or two slices of a homegrown tomato, or a reasonable store-bought facsimile
8. Four toothpicks (very, very necessary)
9. A serrated knife (also very, very necessary)

Assembly goes like this:

1. Allow toast to cool before placing side by side on a cutting board.

2. Spread one side each with mayo or mustard, or any sandwich spread you prefer.

3. To the first slice of toast goes the sliced meats and cheese topped with the second slice of toast.

4. Next goes the bacon followed by the lettuce and tomato.

5. A grind of black pepper is good before placing the remaining slice of toast on top of all.

Now to the fun part:

1. Stick the four toothpicks in on the long sides of the sandwich (not at the pointed corners.

2. Starting at one corner, slice crosswise to the opposite corner, making sure you have cut clean through.

3. Repeat the process as you slice the sandwich into triangle-shaped quarters secured with the toothpicks.

A helpful hint on cutting:  Hold the serrated knife at a 45° angle while slicing, instead of in a mostly horizontal angle.  You don’t want to risk squashing this masterpiece.

Now you are ready to plate this up.  There is only one way to do this:

1. Making sure the toothpick has each layer of the triangle firmly secured, stand the sandwich quarters on their crusts’ edge.

2. With 4 quarters lining the edge of the plate, the empty center may be filled with potato chips, potato salad, a leafy green salad or a small cup of soup.

3. Place a dill pickle spear or a couple of sour gherkins on the side.

4. Pour yourself a glass of iced tea or a frosty cold soft drink and you’ve got a lunch fit for a king.

You can get fancy if you must; but, there just isn’t anything finer than a pure and simple classic Club Sandwich.  So, drag that toaster out of hiding and deal yourself the King of Clubs for lunch real soon.