SUPER SANDWICHES

Whatever else he accomplished, John Montagu will go down in culinary history for what he did at London's Beef Steak Club above the Covent Garden Theatre one night in 1762. Having spent 24 straight hours at the gaming table without a meal, Montagu directed an underling to bring him some slices of cold roast beef and cheese between two slices of bread so that he could eat with one hand free to continue gambling. And ever since a combination of bread and filling has carried Montagu's name, for he was the Fourth Earl of Sandwich.

To me the sandwich is one of the greatest culinary inventions of all time, so I think Montagu, despite his excesses, is a man worth honoring, indeed, a truly heroic Sandwich. But the truth is that long before he gave the sandwich its name, people were stuffing bread with fillings and eating it. For example, for more than 2,000 years Jews at Passover have symbolically arranged herbs, nuts, and apples between slices of matzo. Likewise, the Arab practice of packing meat into pita bread goes back centuries. Similarly, the French say that prior to Montagu's concoction it was already common practice for field workers in their country to take with them meat or fish layered between slices of black bread. Moreover, as the "Joy of Cooking" notes, nearly every culture has its version of the sandwich, which includes, among others, the burritos of Mexico and the calzones of Italy. But though we may never know who the very first person was to eat what we now call a sandwich, the concept caught on and certain formulations have become classics.

The French dip is a sandwich that is dipped into pan juices. Its name derives not from the fact that it is of French origin, which it decidedly is not, but from the fact that it was invented by a Frenchman, is served on a French roll, and was first eaten by a man whose last name was French. Legend has it that the first French dip sandwich was concocted by Philippe Mathieu, a French immigrant, at his Los Angeles restaurant in 1918 when he accidentally dropped a sandwich into a pan of juices as he served Officer French, a policeman. The officer said he'd eat it anyway and liked it so much he returned the next day with friends who also wanted to try it. Today the sandwich is still the signature dish at Philippe's Restaurant where you can have one that is either single or double dipped.

The Croque-monsieur really is of French origin, being a staple of many a Parisian cafe. Sort of an haute cuisine version of a grilled cheese sandwich, it is a package of ham, cheese, and bread which is toasted or grilled. A Monte Cristo substitutes chicken for ham and is dipped in egg before grilling while a Croque-madame has an egg cooked into a hole cut out of the top of the sandwich.

A Reuben sandwich consists of corned beef, Swiss cheese, and sauerkraut on rye bread, typically slathered with Russian or Thousand Island dressing and grilled. Its origin is equally slathered with controversy. The "Joy of Cooking" credits its invention to a New York delicatessen owner, Arthur Reuben, who supposedly created the sandwich in 1914 for one of Charlie Chaplin's leading ladies. But since his sandwich used coleslaw instead of sauerkraut and Virginia ham instead of corned beef, I'd say the honors should go to Reuben Kulakofsky, a wholesale grocer, who is said to have devised the sandwich during a late night poker game at the Blackstone Hotel in Omaha around 1925.

A Club sandwich is a three-decker affair of meat, bacon, lettuce, and tomato on toast typically cut into triangles. The "Oxford Companion to Food" hypothesizes that the sandwich might have originally been only a two-decker version named after the two-decker "club" cars on U.S. railroads at the turn of the century, but the "Joy of Cooking" suggests that the sandwich may actually have been invented at the Saratoga Club of Saratoga Springs, N.Y., around the same time.

Perhaps the Hero sandwich is my favorite because by definition it is huge. It goes by several aliases, including grinder, hoagie, poor boy, bomber, wedge, zep, torpedo and submarine. The last term is either a reference to the shape of the oblong bread typically used, or homage to a famed version served by a Connecticut deli near a submarine base. Almost anything can go into a hero as long as it is heaped on. In this regard, it is similar to another favorite sandwich of mine, the Dagwood, which uses slices of bread from a conventional square loaf. This precursor to super-sizing was named, of course, after the famous comic strip character.

Then there's New Orleans' Muffuletta with its special olive salad topping, the Hot Brown from Kentucky's Brown Hotel, the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, currently the object of a lawsuit by Smucker's, the Cheese Steak sandwich invented in South Philadelphia, the Denver sandwich, which is really an omelet on a bun, New England's Lobster Roll, and the BLT, not to mention the hamburger and the hot dog.

But perhaps the best sandwich is the one you invent yourself. For that's the beauty of this inspired creation, which can serve as breakfast, lunch, or dinner -- and even dessert. (What's a Napoleon, after all, but a sandwich?) The only limit to the contents of a sandwich is your imagination.

Muffuletta

You'd expect a place with the culinary reputation of New Orleans to produce a sandwich of Epicurean dimensions, and this is it. I've found this recipe, adapted from the "Joy of Cooking," serves nicely between visits to the city's Central Grocery, home of the definitive version. Feel free to vary the ingredients, but the olives are essential for authenticity.

Ingredients:

1 cup chopped pitted green olives

1 cup chopped pitted black olives

1/2 cup olive oil

1/3 cup chopped parsley

3/4 teaspoon dried oregano

1 clove garlic, minced

1 roasted red pepper, chopped

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1 large round loaf Italian bread

2 cups salad greens

4 ounces sliced soft salami

4 ounces sliced hard salami

4 ounces sliced provolone cheese

1/2 cup oil packed sun-dried tomatoes, drained and chopped

Directions:

Combine first eight ingredients (through lemon juice) and refrigerate eight hours. Slice bread in half horizontally, removing most of soft inner bread. Drain marinade from olive mixture and generously coat cut sides of bread with it. Spread half of olive mixture onto one slice of bread and layer in remaining ingredients. Top with remaining bread, wrap in plastic, weight down and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before slicing into wedges.

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