2008 Sandwich and Cocktail Calendar

I just had the 2008 calendars printed. They are black and white, and on regular paper, but inexpensively priced! I also chose to leave off all holidays, making them apolitical and non-denominational. Each month features a different sandwich or sandwich idea. Some of them are never-before-attempted! Each month also features a different cocktail-- all of which really exist-- the recipes coming from drink books.

I also printed, in the calendar, the following essay by Ray Speen, who has a lot to say about these two subjects.


Sandwiches and Cocktails


Why sandwiches and cocktails? These two phenomena might seem incongruous, but if you look at the history and the essence of these two corner posts of modern living, they have much more in common than one might realize. Both are created by mixing two or more complimentary, though sometimes odd, elements together to make something in which the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. We now take for granted how strange some of these combinations must have seemed when they were first invented.

But there is a personal stake for me, too, with this subject. In 1992 I found out I could no longer eat wheat—wheat gluten, wheat flour, oats, rye, barley—and stay alive, so my diet was altered drastically. I don’t need to point out that bread is the foundation, and a necessary feature, of the sandwich. A year later I found out much the same thing about alcohol. Alcoholic beverages are even more important to a cocktail than bread is to a sandwich. Anyone over the ripe old age of 12... I mean 21, can tell you that “cranberry juice cocktail” is not A Cocktail. Some people have told me that, to them, life without these two culinary giants is not a life worth living. I have, however, managed to focus my passions in other directions, but meanwhile, I have taken on a rather fanatical, if somewhat misguided, from-a-distance obsession with these two taken-for-granted-by-most-of-society wonders of the world.

While the history of the cocktail goes all the way back to about 4000 BC (when, during the accidental discovery of fermentation, a flavoring agent was accidentally introduced to the brew), the history of the sandwich is often mythologized and misunderstood. First invented by Jon Montagnard, The 14th Earle of Sandwich, a Welsh military innovator, in 1492, the purpose of the innovation was so that Knights wouldn't have to leave the field of battle for lunch, thus freeing themselves of the several hours it took to extract them from cumbersome suits of armor. A lesser known innovation by Montagnais was a small metal compartment which was attached to the armor for carrying the sandwich—in effect, the first lunch box.

I don’t need to illustrate the ongoing crisis of the sandwich, propagated by the epidemic of fast food, particularly with hamburgers and submarine sandwiches. I have included in this calendar small sections about my most significant experiences in either realm.

The more recent, and more disturbing, trend is the destruction of the cocktail—in which our very culture is being desecrated by savvy, slimy, marketing hucksters in order to sell the worst possible product at the biggest profit. Vodka, a completely worthless and tasteless spirit, has all but taken over the liquor market in recent years. Except for very few exceptions, vodka is nothing but crude, distilled grain spirit with no subtlety or character, and attempts to disguise its foulness with trendy flavors just makes it worse.

The most tragic development, however, is the annihilation of the Martini, the most classic and venerable of all cocktails. The Martini is made only ONE way—high quality gin and a very small amount (though not none) of dry (French) Vermouth, STIRRED with ice, quickly—so it gets very cold but not diluted—and strained into a cocktail glass. An olive may be added as a garnish. James Bond’s insistence on a vodka “martini” shaken (the reason you stir and not shake is you want it to be crystal clear, not filled with air bubbles) proves that Bond was a double agent for the Russians all along, or worse, the Americans.

Even more appalling, in recent years, the word “Martini” has come to mean what “cocktail” used to mean. Now you go to a bar and they will offer a “Cosmopolitan Martini” or a “Margarita Martini”—which makes no sense at all. Cosmopolitans and Margaritas are COCKTAILS, the Martini is a COCKTAIL, but otherwise they have nothing to do with each other. This destruction of the language is unforgivable. It seems like the Gin manufacturers are content just to sit back while their ever more unpopular product dwindles as older drinkers retire and die off. Soon, no one will know what a real Martini is, there will be no more Gin, no more cocktails, no more culture, no more civilization.

—Ray Speen