Sexism And The Sandwich
Two days ago, if you’d said the phrase “300 sandwiches” to me, I would have gone, “Oooooh, that sounds like a lot of delicious sandwiches!” And sandwiches are great. In concept, so simple: two pieces of bread, some fillings. And yet they’re so much more than that. They can be basic (white bread, peanut butter, jelly); they can be lavish (toasted brioche with arugula and truffle aioli and organic grass fed beef). The possibilities are endless. Sandwiches are a delight.
So it seems like a food blog simply titled “300 Sandwiches” would be something I’d enjoy, and at first glance it is – it’s pictures of, and recipes for, delicious looking sandwiches. However, in this article, a different story unfolds. Stephanie is a girl who woke up one morning and actually had her boyfriend ask the question “if you’ve been awake this long, why haven’t you made me a sandwich?” Rather than telling him to get up and make his own damn sandwich, she got up and made him one. And when he told her she was a mere 300 sandwiches from an engagement ring, she didn’t laugh it off. She took it seriously, and now she is a mere 123 sandwiches from the marriage of her dreams. Who knew it was so easy?
Apparently, I have been doing everything all wrong. I made a boyfriend a sandwich once. And it wasn’t a basic PB&J or a boring turkey and mayo. No, it involved fancy bread and broiling some plums and peaches, and goat cheese, and an herb of some sort; I’d based it on a delicious one I’d eaten at a museum cafe earlier in the week. It was a sandwich full of thoughtfulness and effort. However, when I served it to my boyfriend, not only did he not tell me that I was a mere 300 more sandwiches away from marriage, his reaction was “Oh, I only do sandwiches for dinner when I’m feeling really lazy.” I regret to inform you that I did not immediately throw the sandwich in his face.
So maybe sandwiches aren’t for everyone. But don’t worry, the way to a man’s heart is still through his stomach, or at least these recipes would have you believe so. Ladies, if you’re looking to lock down a man and have some babies before your biological clock starts ticking too loudly, it’s time to get cooking!
I made this once, for a different boyfriend. I clearly didn’t use enough vodka, because spoiler alert, I’m still single. It was delicious pasta, though.
This recipe seems to come up in Glamour time and time again. It’s been working its magic on the magazine’s staff for years, because apparently it’s the “kind of meal a wife would make.” Why bother with 300 sandwiches when just one chicken will do the trick?
This recipe won’t actually catch you a husband, it will just catch boys, or at least, it did for the girl who created the recipe in 1954. Still, one step at a time, and this seems like one in the right direction.
In the mood for something sweet and no time to bake something from scratch? These brownies have allegedly elicited a marriage proposal from a man every time they’re made.
Obviously I’m joking about cooking your way to a marriage proposal, but feel free to give the recipes a try, as I remain strongly in favor of the cooking and eating of delicious food. And honestly, 300 Sandwiches isn’t all bad. The recipes sound delicious (ham with lavender goat cheese and caramelized pecans? yes please) but the copy is atrocious:
“E slinked into the living room in that white terrycloth robe of his and took to the couch, turning on “Pirates of the Carribbean” in Spanish because he was too lazy to change the channel. He was also too lazy to use his hands, so I fed a bite sized sandwich into his mouth like a momma birds does with worms in baby bird’s mouths.”
Her boyfriend sounds like a lazy, entitled slob, but she’s actively working to win this guy? As one friend put it, “I didn’t know Stockholm Syndrome had a cooking blog.” I’m really hoping this is just a gimmick she’s using to score a book deal, because the idea that a talented, successful woman who also knows how to make a mean sandwich still has to ‘earn’ an engagement ring from her boyfriend just makes my soul hurt.
If you’ll excuse me, I need to go talk to some food about this.
Image via Shutterstock