The Chip Butty - By Special Guest Correspondent, Baloney Schraggie

The Chip Butty is an institution I am not sure I want to admit membership of, but in support of true scientific research, I shall admit - though, only once - to consuming this monochromatic staple of British diet.

You would think Britain, with its history of Sandwiches (think "The Earl of...") would be more inventive with their bread-based food products, but therein lies the genius of the Chip Butty - it is so classically simple, understated and unexpected: who would have thought that you could get so much starch and empty carbohydrates into such a small, compact space?

That its nutritional content hovers somewhere between zero and minus 20 makes the perfect base (or cap) of a night's heavy drinking, and this is part of its success, particularly in Scotland and working class cities across the UK. Its single colour and single taste could only be described as "unexpected" - in that when you eat something, you would expect it to taste of something... the butty, however, is remarkably bland, which, again, makes it the perfect accompaniment to consuming large portions of alcohol.

It has many derivations, including a personal favourite of mine: the "Fritter Roll" (found - like a rare bird - only at the King's Cafe off Sauchiehall Street in Glasgow), but generally, all these differences are cosmetic - the formula of fried potato in white bread is essentially unchanged, and frankly, unchallenged when it comes to lining one's stomach in grease and starch, which, as we have all discovered, is essential when consuming vast quantities of whisky.

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Monty’s Bakehouse wrap, Air Canada

I’d rate this wrap as strange. Its packaging created expectations of a more appetizing experience, which it was not. After a vastly superior egg salad sandwich from London Heathrow, I could not greet this airplane freebie with serious interest, but at least it was hot, and at least I could review it for this blog. Steaming contents were oozy and largely undistinguishable, but suggested some kind of red pepper or sundried tomato origins.

Madrid Sandwich, Trans-Europe Cafe, Glasgow

Nestled in the heart of Merchant City, the Trans-Europe Cafe is a quiet little spot that boasts a selection of classic gourmet European sandwiches. Stopping in after a meeting a few doors down I felt I needed a pick-me up, and so I went with what I thought would be the spiciest, the Madrid: chorizo with pesto and mozzarella. The sandwich was all right, but not classic or gourmet, though perhaps relatively so to the aforementioned toasties. The flavour was arguably more Italian than Spanish, or worse, it was sort of American, as it was still a hoagie bun, just sliced diagonally and pressed. The accompanying sides of coleslaw, argula salad (which they listed as spinach), and salted crisps were a nice touch, as was my spiced apple tea. Taking a quick look over their menu , I would return to see what Zurich is all about.

Haloum Grille, Depanneur Le Pick Up, Montreal

A friend and I agreed the personality of the sandwich changes with each person who prepares it, and today we felt something was a little less than parfait with our Haloum Grille. Folks at Le Pick Up seemed stressed . The longest wait ever, and our lunches sat around too long. Temperature of the cheese is important to experiencing haloumi’s firm the texture and the release of its saltiness, and I prefer when it’s grilled directly before entering the sandwich. Creamy spicy slaw of red cabbage, carrot, and kale soothes the major crust burn associated with the crispy multigrain toast. Ideally it’s the bread that should be soft and the haloumi that gets to shine as the crispy grilled champ that it is. Nevertheless, we stayed for hours at the back picnic tables, chatted with the servers, overheard some drama about the evening closing procedure, broke a dish, and spilled a coffee. A good day.

You Say Sandwich, We Say Yeah!

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