Is a Hot Dog a sandwich?
“Of course not. It's a hot dog (you imbecile)… “ would be your response, if you're anything like the average major-league baseball player.
Point of Order—while no major leaguer actually called me an imbecile over the past few weeks, I have been using an official MLB credential to ask whether they felt a Hot Dog is a sandwich. As such, I could sense they wanted to verbalize “imbecile.” It's in the eyes.
But before we lose focus on my potential imbecility (did not expect that to get through spellcheck), please snap back to the matter at hand and consider this whole Hot Dog/sandwich thing because, first of all, we're talking about Hot Dogs here, people. HOT DOGS. No food-thing is more essential to the ballpark experience—not beer, not nachos, not peanuts. If you're at a baseball game and you're not eating a Hot Dog at some point, you're doing it wrong. And secondly, this Hot Dog/sandwich thing is a really nuanced situation.
What makes something a sandwich? Which criteria are mandatory? Which aren't? When we call something a sandwich, what's the specific idea we're trying to convey? Does the shape of a sandwich's components matter? What lines do we draw here and where do we draw them?
We'll get to some fun baseball player conversations on this topic in a bit, including a chat with, arguably, the most educated player currently in MLB. We'll also have some data to glance at, covering more than two dozen opinions on the matter. First, though, some context.
"Basically the hot dog-as-sandwich debate has been something Twitter has discussed for as long as I remember," opined BP's Craig Goldstein. "I am just a bit player in it."
Upon informing Sam Miller that I'd spent a couple weeks aggregating opinion on the “Is a Hot Dog a sandwich” debate, and that I'd planned on presenting my findings as a fun little aside, he basically told me I was stupid, and that I should turn it into a full-fledged piece, and that I should reach out to Craig, as BP’s leading philosopher on the issue.
So what gives Craig this status among the sandwich-classification intelligentsia?
"I delight in taking matters of pure opinion and talking about them as though there are distinct borders upon which they operate, and this frustrates the living hell out of people."
Breaking new ontological ground we're clearly not. That said, I have to think Plato, Descartes, Kant, Sartre, et al would welcome this sort of discussion. Back to Craig: I asked for his original conception of what makes something a sandwich.
"I think I was like most people, with a very basic understanding. Two pieces of bread with something in between—be it meat, veggies, peanut butter or what-have-you.
“This is where it gets tricky though. People have visceral reactions to the ideas of non-standard sandwiches being considered as such, but if you get into the nitty-gritty of what a sandwich is, you start to have to have rules."
"If you ask somebody to go make you a sandwich, they're not gonna make you a Hot Dog." –Pirates infielder Josh Harrison
Harrison's quote was one of several reasonable angles taken by the No crowd. It's a particularly good example because, on some level, passing a test of cultural pragmatism seems legitimate when it comes to these sorts of debates.
Consider that, through the sheer power of cultural familiarity, the official definition of “literally” has literally been changed to also imply “figuratively.”
Personally, I loathe the change to “literally.” It's stupid and wrong and stupid and stupid. But the culture has spoken. The shared idea of that word has become so broken, so pervasively misused that the linguistic tail has won out and wagged the dog. We've had to reverse-engineer the damn thing.
The lesson here—we underestimate the power of shared culture at our peril. Which brings us back to the Hot Dog question.
"No, it's not a sandwich. It's a Hot Dog."
That was the exact quote from both Zach Duke of the Brewers and Brock Holt of the Red Sox, each of whom was unwittingly supporting Josh Harrison's implied argument in favor of cultural sandwich conceptualization. We have more proof of this cultural norm; among the players who were simply asked The Question without any followup… a sort of control for our experiment… 14 of 15 gave a flat “No.”
As for Duke and Holt (coming to TBS this fall!) both guys also declared the Hot Dog to be in a class by itself, which was a familiar refrain among respondents; almost a quarter (6/25) of those polled believed the Hot Dog to be unique in its classification.
But an even larger percentage of players belong to a group we'll call Changers—guys who initially went with No, but upon being Socratic Method-ed, changed their minds.
One example of a Changer was Red Sox rookie Mookie Betts. Here's our conversation in full:
Me: Is a Hot Dog a sandwich?
Mookie Betts: No. It's not. I feel like a Hot Dog is in its own category, not really a sandwich. That's my take on it.
Me: Is a Hamburger a sandwich?
MB: Yes, I think that's a sandwich.
Me: So what makes a hamburger a sandwich?
MB: I think a hamburger's a sandwich because the meat goes between two pieces of bread. I'm getting myself into a corner here.
Me: Yes, you are. Do you even need meat for it to be a sandwich?
MB: I guess not. PB&J. Grilled cheese. Those are both sandwiches.
Me: So let's go back to the start. Is a Hot Dog a sandwich?
MB: Yeah, I think it's a sandwich.
It really was a textbook reversal from the affable Mr. Betts, who, to his credit, had an open mind and was willing to let me play Devil's Advocate (which I did for both sides of this debate with each poll-ee).
Perhaps my favorite Changer was Pirates backup catcher Tony Sanchez.
Me: Is a Hot Dog a sandwich?
TS: No. Absolutely not. First thing that comes to my mind as a sandwich includes deli meat, sliced deli meat and lettuce, tomato, onions, mayo, mustard. A Hot Dog, regardless of how much mustard you put on it, is not a sandwich.
Me: So because the bologna is delivered differently when it's in Hot Dog form, it's no longer a sandwich?
TS: Correct. Right.
Me: So the form of the meat is determinant when it comes to classifying something as a sandwich?
TS: I would say so, yeah. And I'm gonna stick by that… … … even though you bring up a very valid point… … … Shoot!
At this point Tony began laughing, his resolve wavering.
Me: So does the shape of the bread matter? The type of bread?
TS: No. Bread is bread.
Me: So is a wrap a sandwich?
TS: No! Heck no. Absolutely not! A wrap is a poor excuse for a sandwich. But godblessit, a sub is a sandwich. And the bread… I'm so rattled right now.
Me: Is a Hamburger a sandwich?
TS: No. No! A hamburger is a hamburger!
Me: So why isn't a hamburger a sandwich?
TS: Because you grill the meat on a barbecue.
Me: The hell does that have to do with it?
TS: You're right. You're absolutely right. Because you throw lettuce on it, tomatoes, mayo, mustard, ketchup. A hamburger is a sandwich!! You're blowing my mind, dude. You're blowing my mind. The next time we barbecue and someone asks me if I want a hamburger, I'm gonna say, 'Yeah, I'd love a sandwich.'
Me: So back to the original question. Is a Hot Dog a sandwich?
TS: (deep breath) A HOT DOG IS A SANDWICH!! [Maniacal laughter.] A Hot Dog is a sandwich. Unbelievable.
Me: Seeing the evolution of your thought process there was rewarding.
TS: You threw bologna in there and blew my mind. How could I argue against bologna? Just because a Hot Dog isn't thinly sliced deli meat; it's just a different form factor. People evolve and sandwiches evolve.
Other Changers include the Pirates' Andrew McCutchen, and Arismendy Alcantara and Ryan Kalish of the Cubs.
In terms of guys who were Yes Men right out of the gate, the list, such as it is, is incredibly small. It consists of one large man, Jared Hughes of the Pirates, who was easily the most open-minded player polled when it came to ontological sandwichness. Jared, by default, had hamburgers, wraps and hot dogs all as sandwiches. Open-faced sandwiches? Of course. A bagel with cream cheese? A sandwich.
The only example Jared originally believed to be in the No column was that of a burrito. But even then, he was willing consider alternative arguments after learning that the State of New York had legally declared a burrito to be a sandwich for taxation purposes.
You read it right by the way—rulings have come from State Benches on the issue of what constitutes a sandwich.
This seems like a good point to bring our Craig Goldstein back on board. I sent him a draft of the piece to this point and sought comment.
"I guess what makes this fun for me is exactly what took place with the Changers. Their immediate reaction is of course, "No, a hot dog is its own thing." But if you delve into the whys, it becomes clear the issue is deeper than that. We're so instinctual in our actions and reactions that we don't pay attention to what we might actually believe. You see this in the Changers—when they stop and think about it for a minute they realize their position makes no sense. The guys who still think no? Well, cognitive dissonance is a hell of a thing.
"I'll add that, while everything above is accurate, I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge that frustrating others is half the fun. That said, I'm actually dying to know what Breslow has to say on this."
Let's get to it, then, and end our Hot Dog/sandwich examination with a man who may be the game's most educated player, Craig Breslow of the Red Sox, owner of a B.A. in Molecular Biophysics and Biochemistry… from Yale.
As with the rest of our participants, I asked Breslow whether a Hot Dog was a sandwich. What followed was a laugh, seven seconds of contemplated silence, and then…
"No."
Huh. I was kind of expecting a Yes there, if I'm honest. Fourteen more seconds passed before he spoke again.
"I think there needs to be intent on the sandwich's part to close on all sides."
Intrigued by this new idea, I asked him how many sandwiches he knew of that closed on all sides.
"Well, the intent, right. There's no reason that a peanut butter & jelly sandwich can't have a seam all the way around with contact. But (with a Hot Dog), there's no intention for the top pieces of the bun to connect. Symmetry matters."
I was flummoxed. My usual Socratic blueprint was useless. No bread fallacies. No meat fallacies. Breslow was on point.
So why should something as superficial as the symmetry of a thing be determinant here?
"Is a wrap a sandwich? No. Is a pita a sandwich? No. A pizza? I think appearance is very telling."
With zero preparation and forethought, Breslow had seemingly gotten to the heart of the cultural argument Josh Harrison and others had made previously and combined it with an implied biological foundation. Think about it—to most of us, and in many, many things, appearance matters. We might not want the looks of a thing to dictate choice, but more often than not, it does. We are a visual species.
From an old Discover Magazine article:
"In the brain itself, neurons devoted to visual processing number in the hundreds of millions and take up about 30 percent of the cortex, as compared with 8 percent for touch and just 3 percent for hearing. Each of the two optic nerves, which carry signals from the retina to the brain, consists of a million fibers; each auditory nerve carries a mere 30,000."
Humans are evolutionarily hard-wired to place a high value on visual cues, and to make snap judgments based on that data. And Breslow instinctively understood that.
Even more interestingly, despite agreeing that bread isn't necessary for something to be a considered a sandwich, and agreeing that a sandwich doesn't even have to be food—"I suppose not, but then I would not recommend eating it”—Breslow wouldn't be swayed from his No Crowd vote on the Hot Dog matter. He was a really interesting guy—both intensely intelligent and true to his evolutionary roots.
Of course, he was dead wrong about the Hot Dog thing—of course it's a sandwich—but hey, nobody's perfect.
The Data:
- Initial Noes: 24
- Yes Men: 1
Among those properly interviewed on The Question:
- No Crowd: 5
- Changers: 5
Subsets:
- Hot Dog is in a Class of Its Own (included in No Crowd): 6
Hot Dogs eaten during the creation of this piece: 3
Hot Dogs eaten at ballparks by the author, lifetime: So, so many.
Ideal Hot Dog preparation for the author: An irresponsible amount of brown/spicy mustard, Heinz ketchup if available (no ketchup if not). [Ed note: Ketchup? Oh, brother.]
Thank you for reading
This is a free article. If you enjoyed it, consider subscribing to Baseball Prospectus. Subscriptions support ongoing public baseball research and analysis in an increasingly proprietary environment.
Subscribe now
Yay for typing good and stuff.
Subs, hot dogs, etc., -- definitely in.
A sub or hoagie is sometimes (usually?) served with the 2 sides of the roll parallel to the ground. Isn't it? Put another way, it would be a hell of a lot easier to eat a hoagie that way. Whereas a hot dog would be more difficult to eat that way.
If this is your hot dog:
-
0
-
You'll be very messy. Hot dogs should be like this:
|0|
On the other hand I eat my chicken parm or Italian hoagie like this
-
0
-
You mean figuratively?
I've been ordering club sandwiches for years and I'm not even a member. I don't know how I've been getting away with it. <-I hope someone gets that reference.
"We've all been there, forced to put the hot dog in a non-bun piece of bread. It's so, so wrong."
Thanks for reading, sir.
But if you wrap a heel around the bread that is perfectly acceptable, no? In fact, I believe it is the only approved use for the heels, besides deep-fat frying them to make croutons.
Moreover, I'd be willing to bet that the originator of the hot dog bun was inspired by the heel. The hot dog bun was his way to bake little loafs that were nothing but heels.
As final proof, that is why hot dog buns are sold eight to a package while the hot dogs themselves come iin packs of ten. That is so one has two hot dogs left over to use with the heels that are from that loaf sitting in the bread box.
That said, thanks for reading, Myles!
I'm gonna have to stop you here. Come to Milwaukee and have some sort of sausage. Be it a brat, a polish, italian, or chorizo and you will realize the error of your ways, thinking a hot dog is the ultimate ballpark food. Though you are totally on point calling these sandwiches.
p.s. I'd love to try the food at Miller Park, btw. It does look tasty.
:-)
I realized my ketchup admission would be unpopular, but felt you guys deserved honesty here. It would've been easy to say I never put ketchup on a hotdog. That would've been the easy thing.
Alas, I sometimes do... usually when we're out of the 80 mustard.
Please respect my choice.
p.s. I'll add that I think this ketchup/hotdog thing is a bit overstated. The sweet/salty paradigm works in most food-things, as it does on a hotdog. The ratio--therein lies the rub, as too much ketchup can overpower the mustard, which should act as the star condiment.
But, just out of curiosity, what if I use catsup?
But the disaster situation is when neither Heinz nor spicy brown mustard are available for your hot dog, as you'll sometime see at a golf course or a minor league park.
It's in these cases that our mettle as men is truly tested...
If I told you to imagine a pastrami sandwich, you'd probably imagine meat sliced think, piled high on some rye bread, mustard and/or horsey sauce, and pickles (within the creation or to the side). Maybe you'd imagine a cheese on here as well. But none of us whom are sane would hesitate to call this a sandwich.
Now when I say "hot dog," what comes to mind? Ballpark, overpriced beer, terrible parking lot experience on the way to the stadium, an already inebriated fan proclaiming the "awesomeness" of a player that is clearly washed up... back to the topic at hand please. You probably imagine a "frank" inside of a hotdog bun (sesame seed or not- and it better be the former), with condiments (mustard, relish, onions, etc, (if you use ketchup you are a terrorist)). Putting hot dog franks (sliced or still in intact tube form) inside of two pieces of flat bread, you ARE a heathen, and you have also just made a blasphemous sandwich.
When you order a hot dog, you usually just say "I'll have a hot dog." however when ordering an above discussed pastrami dish, you'd probably have to say "I'll have a pastrami SANDWICH."
When buying ingredients at the supermarket, toppings are toppings; but you oo to the deli for sandwich meat. You go to the hot dog/meat in cooler section for some "franks." There is a bread aisle where you can find all types and brands. However, hot dog "buns" (not "bread") may or may not be located in the same aisle.
Furthermore, when at a ballpark/picnic/grill-out/etc. The same thing applying to hot dog franks inside of a hot dog bun would apply to Polish Sausage (at times, superior even to the best of hot dogs), or a Bratwurst. You would not ask for a "Polish Sausage sandwich" or a "Bratwurst Sandwich" and expect it in the same format. You might expect such and order to arrive on a Kaiser roll, perhaps. Bread style/choice matters.
As for the argument of "wrap," "hamburger," or "burrito," I would argue for a new system of judgement along the lines of intent: marketability. Is something being marketed as a sandwich? Perhaps this is too close to the definition of intent. However, no one would ever say "I'll have a burrito sandwich." A burrito is very much its own thing. The same applies to the hamburger. A pulled-pork sandwich on a hamburger "bun" (read: not just bread, but a bun(s)) is a sandwich under the intent rule. A grey area for this is something on a hamburger bun that combined both pulled pork AND a hamburger patty (e.g. The Texas BBQ Burger now being offered at Carl's Jr.). I consider this a hybrid creation, a Frankenstein creation of food (but so, so tasty).
Wraps would also fall under this hybrid of food. It combines elements of a burrito and elements of a sandwich.
A sandwich does no necessarily need meat either. As was noted in the article, PB&J is a sandwich. This falls under the intent argument. Also, a "roasted tomato [and] caprese" could be called a sandwich, and not just a "caprese." Though the caprese comes in many forms including salad, so it should not be trusted.
I could go on, but my boss/IT might be suspicious why I spent so much time on a baseball site arguing sandwiches.
To recap: bread choice (style/kind), intent, marketability... with a grey area for hybrid food creations (and next weeks article).
Your argument about bun vs bread is unconvincing at best. Buns are made of bread, end of story. A bun is a type of bread just as a hot dog is a type of sandwich.
We all agree that all squares are rectangles but not all rectangles are squares? So it is with hot dogs and sandwiches.
Your solution is seemingly to define things as culture defines them, which is to say, provide no definition whatsoever.
Being a potentially seperate, standalone food thing in no way precludes something from being part of a sandwich.
A meatball hoagie/sub/whatever is definitely a sandwich.
For example : The word chips is assigned a different meaning in the UK than the US. The word sandwich's root actually is the old English Sandwicæ, meaning sandy harbor, but the word's definition was redefined by culture.
The most GENERAL definition of a sandwich is at least two slices of bread(or what could be without changing function) with some sort of filling.
A Reuben is a sandwich.
A hamburger is a sandwich.
Grilled Cheese/PBJ are sandwiches.
A panini is a sandwich.
A sub is a sandwich because the bread can be completely sliced into two slices and still function.
A hot dog is not because it has one piece of bread/uneatable if sliced into two slices..
A wrap/burrito/taco are not sandwich because they have one slice of bread.
An open faced sandwich is an "open faced sandwich", not a "sandwich"
McCutchen's eureka moment, btw, came when, unprompted, he realized an ice cream sandwich was every bit a sandwich as a grilled cheese.
Similarly, a s'more is totally a sandwich. These are dessert sandwiches, but sandwiches nonetheless.
Is a pasty, say pigs in a blanket,a sandwich?
But in the case of the ice cream sandwich or the s'more--each meets every classic & cultural measure for what we would consider a sandwich, save for the bread, which seems like a really arbitrary criterion.
We should take inspiration from other food misnomers. The peanut, for example, has 'nut' in the name, but science tells us it's not a nut, and is actually a legume. So we agree, thereal--the name of a thing is not a proper consideration.
Technically speaking, hamburger and hot dogs buns are known in the trade as "sandwich buns." Just read the package and you'll see.
That pretty much settles the argument for everyone except the science deniers, who will never give an inch.
A torus-shaped bread structure, colloquially a bagel or donut, is also topologically identical to a cylinder therefore can be considered as the same object.
In essence, what this means from a scientific perspective, and considering the implications of these breads as Gaussian surfaces as well, for the calculation of field strengths, is that I am now quite hungry.
I assume answering this question will take up most of the accelerator's time at CERN for the next decade.
They're not sandwiches, though.
"A hot dog (also spelled hotdog) is a cooked sausage, traditionally grilled or steamed and served in a sliced bun as a sandwich."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hot_dog
"A sandwich is a food item consisting of one or more types of food placed on or between slices of bread, or more generally any dish wherein two or more pieces of bread serve as a container or wrapper for some other food."
Hot dogs qualify.
If you slice the bread in two slices, the hot dog would roll out. This is not the case of a sub,where the sandwich is completely ediable.
I think that means that yes, a Pig in a Blanket would also qualify, technically... the same way a cashew is technically a legume and Ryan Doumit is technically a catcher (that joke would've landed much better in 2010).
In all (non) seriousness, a Puka Dog is an enclosed hot dog. And it's definitely still a sandwich, given the parameters we've established re: the irrelevance of how or where the bread is sliced.
https://warosu.org/data/ck/img/0053/82/1398409920887.jpg
You can't look at that and tell me it's not a sandwich.
A Pig in a Blanket is basically the same idea, except with a different type of bread and a smaller form factor. Hence, sandwich.
It's actually cool, the way they make the hole for the Puka-bun. They have these heated, phallic-looking spires and they just slam the uncut bun down on the spire, creating a hole through the middle. From there, they slide the hot dog in & fill the middle with condiments of your choosing.
There are also salsa options, but now I'm rambling...
I wonder if this will become BP's most commented-upon article.
But let us follow Montagu's stunning insight and brave example to their logical conclusions, lest we allow convention to obscure the possibilities inherent in his vision. If form followed function for Montagu, then the components of the original sandwich must have mattered less to him than the concept of the non-utensil food delivery system. Had he lived to see their invention, might it not be that Montagu would have bestowed the proud name of his earldom on chips and salsa, pita and hummus, injera and lentils, or even marinara sauce dipped from the jar with a large uncooked pasta shell?
If KFC can call bacon and cheese between two pieces of breaded chicken WITH NO BUN OF ANY SORT a sandwich, I don't see why any object purposely enclosed by another object cannot be legitimately regarded as a sandwich.
I say we grease up the slippery slope and let it all slide.
More reading on "sandwich"
http://www.open-sandwich.co.uk/town_history/sandwich_origin.htm
Http://www.boston.com/business/articles/2006/11/10/arguments_spread_thick/
Now that the hot dog discussion has been well tread, I feel the next step is to take the question to its logical extremes, find the line of sandwich demarcation:
e.g. Is a sushi roll a sandwich?
Once you start down the Dark Side, forever will it dominate your destiny.
"To insert or squeeze (someone or something) between two other people or things, typically in a restricted space or so as to be uncomfortable."
So it's all about one thing being in between two other things.
Two distinct halves of a hot dog make a hot dog a sandwich. The dog itself is SANDWICHED between the halves.
Two distinct halves of a hard-shelled taco make a hard-shelled taco a sandwich.
Two distinct halves of a quesadilla make a quesadilla a sandwich.
Since a wrap contains a continuous circle (from the end view), and not two distinct halves, a wrap is NOT a sandwich. HOWEVER, if the two ends of the wrap's tortilla are folded out from under themselves, the wrap can be turned into a quesadilla structure with two distinct halves and hence SANDWICHING the insides.
So a wrap is a wrap, but it CAN be turned into a sandwich.
everything to one side is a sandwich, and everything to the other side (and including the Crunchwrap) is NOT a sandwich.
Maki is not a god damn sandwich, even though you've got one element enclosing another element. A jelly doughnut is also not a sandwich. Neither are combos, or M&Ms.
A bagel, sliced in half and eaten with cream cheese and lox on top, is not a sandwich. Put the two halves back together and it is now a sandwich.
This illustrates the real point - it's a sandwich if you are sandwiching something between two flat pieces. A KFC Double Down is a sandwich, no matter how horrifying. A taco isn't one. Neither is a burrito, tax law be damned.
If you need a super-class that encloses all these things for some nefarious purpose, I suppose you can call them whatever you want. But that has as much validity as referring to a piece of toilet paper as a Kleenex. We get what you're saying, but I'm still going to narrow my eyes as I hand it to you.
Hot dogs aren't sandwiches, of course, but well done just the same.
I'll add that, as a Browncoat, I'm both impressed with and horrified at your choice of username. May he rest in peace.
p.s. Obviously a sandwich.
Nonetheless, Josh Hamilton's observation that kicked off the article remains true: "if you ask someone to make you a sandwich, they aren't going to make you a hot dog."
We've come full circle.
What are the important distinctions to make up a sandwich?
1). A sandwich is a solid food. Edible, though not necessarily nutritious. I can't even think of anything that one might call a sandwich that is also either liquid or inedible. There are metaphorical sandwiches such as getting smooshed in the middle seat on a cross-country flight between two large strangers, but that's just a metaphor. Or, it's an alternate definition at best.
2) In addition to being a food, a sandwich is a Finger Food. Food to be consumed without utensils, and with your hands. Utensils are a disqualifying tool. And so, the method of consumption is inherent in the definition of a sandwich. The Earl of Sandwich, I do believe, created this genre of food, and it was created for the very purpose of eliminating utensils.
Forks, knives, spoons, chop sticks, skewers, and any other inedible delivery tool that comes between your hands and the food being consumed disqualifies that food from being a sandwich. Sushi, no. Fondue, no. Kebab, no. Corn dog, no.
2a) important note: a toothpick holding together your sandwich before or during consumption is acceptable, as long as you don't typically hold that implement in the act of picking up or eating it.
3). A sandwich has at least two unique food components brought together to create a combined finger food. Cheese sticks are not a sandwich. Beef jerky is not a sandwich.
4). One of the components is a grain-based product. Salami wrapped around the cheese stick is not a sandwich. Peanut butter spread into a celery stick is not a sandwich. A piece of prosciutto wrapped around a piece of melon is not a sandwich.
5). At the time of the assembly/combining of components, the grain-based component of a sandwich is a serve-able food product.
This eliminates from the sandwich family any finger foods where a dough is baked after the food is assembled, such as pizza. Or pigs in a blanket.
5a). However, once assembled to become a sandwich, it can be heated prior to serving. A toasted sandwich is still a sandwich.
6). The grain-based product is baked. Even though a doughnut is a grain-based product, a jelly-stuffed doughnut is not a sandwich.
6a). However, in the heating of an already-assembled sandwich (see 5a), frying is acceptable. Grilled cheese is still a sandwich after it has been fried / grilled.
7). The non-grain based component(s) is/are placed or spread onto or within the grain-based product that has been opened to receive them. Dipping a dinner roll (even one that has been opened) into olive oil does not make it sandwich. Spreading butter into one, however, is a sandwich.
7a). Once assembled, a sandwich can be dipped into a dressing or sauce. E.g. french dip.
I think this is all it takes to be a sandwich:
An assembled finger food with one one or more components spread or placed onto a grain-based baked good that has been opened to receive it.
Good timing, too, because I just landed.
There's nothing wrong, improper or inherently fallacious with a dessert sandwich; I maintain we should be inclusionary when it comes to our non-savory sandwich brethren.
A hesitation that I have in my definition at this point might be the 'baked' aspect of the grain. Tortillas are grain-based, but grilled instead of baked. I'm comfortable excluding wraps and tacos, but I wouldn't argue too strenuously here and I might yield this point.
Thinking through some other baked goods that fit my full definition (not the summary at the bottom, which is incomplete) include:
Petit fours ...? even though it's a mini layer cake finger food, I hesitate to think of this as a sandwich. Perhaps the frosting on the outside is bothering me. But a moon pie with the frosting on the inside is a sandwich. Maybe I need to include something in the definition where the outside of the assembly is the grain component. I had left that out before, but that seems to be important. But that then eliminates an open-faced cheese (or other style) sandwich.
However, I can solve this by adding into the definition that if there are more than two layers in the assembly, then the top and bottom layers must be the baked grain component.
... and a cupcake has only two layers. So either a cupcake is a sandwich, or... I have to eliminate the two-layer assembly from the definition.
And that's where I am, long after the last game has finished, and just as I am ready to retire for the evening and unsatisfied with this result.
As for the rest, yes, I'd personally prefer to err on the side of inclusionary than exclusionary. So perhaps your 'baked' aspect still needs some fine tuning. And clearly a cupcake isn't a sandwich, so we'll need to sort out the layer language.
As for the rest, the grain thing still seems a bit finicky--there has to be an exception that'll give us the dreaded 'but wait' moment--but I'll roll it around with my local sandwich think tank (Mrs. DeMaro) and try to come up with a potential improvement.
I'm off to bed myself; see you guys tomorrow...
By JOHN HODGMAN
http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2014/05/04/magazine/04-one-page-magazine.html?smid=tw-nytmag&_r=1
ERIN WRITES:My best friend, Dennis, and I have been arguing about whether or not a hot dog is a sandwich. I say that only a total pedant would ever think of a hot dog as a sandwich, which Dennis is. Dennis says that I can’t just decide something isn’t what it is because I think otherwise. Is a hot dog a sandwich or not?
Let me apply the wisdom of Solomon: If your friend’s hot dog is a sandwich, why doesn’t he just cut it in half? HE CAN’T, CAN HE? Because it is not a sandwich, but a hot dog, indivisible and sui generis — a culinary anomaly so compelling that we actually eat it, even when it is cooked in a tank on a cart.
Another tendril: https://twitter.com/rrussitano/status/517132968205504512
So Reddit, Digg & Fox Sports all picked up the story & re-posted. And we have The NY Times & Fox News exploring the idea.
Hot dogs, man. Who knew?