The flavor sandwich was invented sometime in the early 70’s by 3 teenage boys from a small town in southern New Hampshire. It happened very much by accident. They did not set out to invent one of the world’s most unique dishes. Instead, the idea for this specialty sandwich came from something their Dad told them. The boys jumped on the concept immediately and – BOOM – the first ever “Flavor Sandwich” was born.
How do I know so much about the origin of the flavor sandwich?
Because I was one of the inventors. My two brothers, Steve and Paul, were the other co-conspirators – I mean co-inventors. Steve and I are twins; we were maybe 13 or 14 at the time. Paul is a year and a half younger. So, at a pretty early age, we became inventors; innovators – food pioneers. We dared to go where no chef had gone before …
My Dad played a role in the invention. He gave us the idea. He provided the light bulb necessary to take an idea from concept to reality.
Dad was a interesting looking man. He stood 6 foot 3 inches tall, weighed about 240 pounds and wore a very short flattop haircut. He wore his flattop with pride. He didn’t care if everyone else had long hair; if long hair was the accepted mainstream style; even if the priests and ministers had long hair – it didn’t matter. Dad didn’t follow trends. He didn’t follow fashion. He didn’t follow. He was in charge.
Dad was his own man. And, when you were in his house you couldn’t help but feel that you were no longer the boss – he was. That goes for just about anyone. I had friends over the house that were – shall we say – rough on the edges. But, they miraculously turned into fine young gentlemen the minute they took one look at my Dad. Dad was a force to be reckoned with; you gave him the same respect you’d give a South Florida city destroying hurricane.
Every discovery – every technological breakthrough – requires the right conditions; the right setting; the right environment. Well, one hot summer day, in the town of Pelham, New Hampshire, back in the early 70’s, the conditions were perfect for the invention of the flavor sandwich. You had three hungry teenage boys and one hungry Dad taking a lunch break. The axes were leaning up against the trees, the wind rustled, and an idea was born.
Here’s the story of how the flavor sandwich was invented …
“Hey, wha-ya doin?” My Dad barked out with his mouth half shut and a piece of meat sticking out. He was chomping on a ham sandwich. He was part of a 4 man tree cutting team; we were taking a lunch break. The other three members included my brothers Steve, Paul and me.
“Throwing away the fat!” I declared as I chucked another piece of cold white tasteless ham fat into the woods.
My brothers Steve and Paul were too busy tossing ham fat in the woods to bother answering Dad’s disrupting question. The procedure called for some concentration. You had to lift up the top piece of white bread and then peel off the big strips of fat running around and through the ham. And, you want to make sure the top slice of bread is the one that didn’t have mustard smeared all over it. It required a bit of skill to perform this operation without dropping the whole sandwich. Course we got pretty good at it after a while.
My Dad couldn’t stand it any longer, “Hey, if you don’t want it give it to me!”
The three of us stopped throwing the white ham fat into the woods and started throwing it at Dad instead. He’d reach up and snatch the fat strips like a bear catching salmon in the river.
Dad was in his glory as he’d take a piece of solid white ham fat from his waist high open palm and then quickly toss it into his mouth. It was especially funny to watch when the fat piece was so long it would go in one side of his mouth but hang out the other side. Then he’d have to wiggle his mouth and head around to get the remaining portion in. In extreme cases he’d use his hand to coax the straggling piece of fat into his mouth.
We didn’t give no never mind about manners and social graces while working in the woods. We didn’t care about dirty hands or washing up. And, I’m pretty sure my brothers and I were eating our sandwiches like proper pigs. This was one of the side benefits of working outdoors doing manual labor – you could eat like a total slob and nobody called you on it! Picture 4 guys totally focused on eating. No manners, just eating. No talking, just eating. The only time you’d hear talking while eating is in an emergency; like when Dad saw us tossing out the ham fat – that was an emergency. He had to stop it.
As we watched Dad chomping down the ham fat like a hungry grizzly we started getting bold. We started making fun of him. Not sure where we got the courage to do this because my Dad was not a guy you want to mess with; I’d rather take my chances with an angry grizzly than with my Dad when he’s angry. We could sense he was in a playful mood. Besides, he looked completely ridiculous “chewing the fat!” And, he really couldn’t answer back because his mouth was so full.
“That’s disgusting! How can you eat that? Gross!” The three of us started taunting the hungry grizzly.
When Dad finally swallowed the last bits, he fired back, “The fat is the flavor of the meat! Don’t you guys know that? Where do you think the flavor comes from? It comes from the fat! You guys ain’t never been hungry so you don’t know what good food is. THE FAT IS THE FLAVOR OF THE MEAT!”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was like someone telling me, “The bones are the best part of the chicken.” I don’t eat chicken bones – I throw them away; just like I throw away the nasty white ham fat.
But, my Dad was serious. No joking. He meant it. The fat is the flavor of the meat.
I wasn’t going to argue. I wasn’t going to question him. I wasn’t going to make fun of him any more. He had spoken. He had told us. He made the declaration and it must stand as truth.
That’s when the idea came to me. I looked at my brothers and signaled for a huddle. “Hey, Dad likes the fat so why don’t we make him a sandwhich and put all fat on it?”
Steve and Paul loved the idea so we broke up the football huddle and I turned like a quarterback walking up to the line of scrimmage and asked, “Hey Dad, want another sandwich?”
Our plan almost backfired because Dad looked back at us with suspicion. We never offered to make him a sandwich before; this was new territory. But, for some reason he went along. After a short pause, the plan went forward when he said, “Sure.”
Steve, Paul and I raced up the hill to the house about 150 feet away. We got to the kitchen and I grabbed the knife like a civil war battlefield surgeon and started cutting into the cold slab of ham. I only went after the white parts – the fat. We plastered mustard on one slice of bread, then started loading it with chunks of white ham fat. Finally, we topped it with a slice of plain white bread.
I grabbed the finished product and the three of us started running down the hill laughing like mad hyenas. When we reached Dad, I held out the sandwich with my dirty hands and said, “Here ya go Dad, we made you a flavor sandwich!” Steve and Paul chimed in, “Yeah, a flavor sandwich; it’s all flavor; you’ll love it; just for you Dad; go ahead, eat it; it’ll taste great!”
Well, all this encouragement was too much for Dad. He took the sandwich, held it in his palm and then lifted the top slice of plain white bread to reveal the stacks of piled fat.
For a moment I thought maybe we were in trouble; maybe we were going to get it for wasting food again; maybe he didn’t think it was funny; maybe we’d be in for a good old southern New Hampshire counseling session – behind the woodshed! But, then I saw his face light up, his mouth started stretching outwards as he couldn’t hold back the smile. Then he just lost it. He started laughing uncontrollably; like he was auditioning to be the Joker in the next Batman movie! Then we all joined in. We turned into a team of laughing mad Jokers.
It was a great moment. A moment that marked a new beginning; a new creation – the birth of the Flavor Sandwich!