In the pre-ramble of a meeting today, we were discussing our weekend plans, as is sacred Friday tradition of all corporate-clocked persons in the few minutes before the host logs on. This somehow led us to dinner plans (I believe someone is barbecuing tomorrow, which led to a complaint of hunger, the train was unclear and actually unimportant). When it was clearly my turn to engage I excitedly mentioned that I’d prepared all the accoutrements for a BLT sandwich. I was very much looking forward to it. All agreed that this was indeed something to look forward to. Especially on a busy day! A busy Friday no less! Excellent choice.
And then I made the most heinous mistake I have ever made in my adult life. A mild lull took over and the host still absent I posed- “Do you all put mustard on your BLT?”
I know, I know. I started a war and smiled while doing so. I promise I’m not malicious, just ignorant. The truth is, while daydreaming about the BLT in a previous meeting in which I was somehow necessary but spoke no words and had no opinions, I was wondering if I had mayonaise in the fridge. I couldn’t recall it sitting there among the condiment shelf (in the door, where condiments go. I may be ignorant but I’m not a fool). I thought perhaps it was hiding behind the large bottle of lemon juice but that would be the ingredients-related-condiments shelf rather than the true-condinments shelf so chances were I was actually out of mayo. So what could I do for my BLT? I was not going to put it off, risk my perfect heirloom tomoato wilting as I had already sliced it. A BLT tomorrow would be fine but a BLT tonight would be perfect. So I’d been considering the substitution of mustard.
“Well then it’s not a BLT!” rose the voices! “You can’t put mustard on a BLT.” “Ew.” “That’s like putting cheese on it.” “Oh you can’t put cheese on it.” “Cheese can go on anything!” “Not a BLT.” “Well true.” “Not mustard. It’s gotta be mayo.” “Duke mayo.” “Don’t start that again, Jeff*.” “You can put an egg on it.” “You can put an egg on it, yes.”
And as my bewilderment grew- the host arrived, apologizing for being late as it was such busy day, a busy Friday no less! And now let’s get started talking about _______.
But I could not focus. I knew there were rules about food:** Watermelon and sandwiches taste better in triangles, grilled cheese must have at least one orange cheese, you must choose between waffles and pancakes never both, you can’t make a soda suicide after age 10, gravy and sauce are not the same thing, buffalo wings are sidekicked by celery, don’t serve guests salad unless you have ranch in the house. The basics.
But the BLT… was it not devoid of such regulations? Surely its time in reckless deviation had freed it from any law or guideline! But then again- did some fame not bring staying principles of its own?
It is such a famous sandwich that one can word-play (letter-play?) on a menu and the base is instantly recognizable. If I say to you this diner has a BLAT, you know that’s a BLT with an A-food, are one synapsis away from knowing it’s added avocado. The BELT (bacon egg lettuce tomato) is the safe man’s choice on any brunch menu the country over. Those born beneath the Mason Dixon line know that a Southern BLT is when the tomato is both green and fried.*** And of course every red-blooded American knows about The Elvis. The BBPB (bacon, banana, peanut butter, and butter) is not a true BLT but is enough of a direct relative that it must be mentioned in BLT discourse.
The variation does not end there! Pluck any letter from the alphabet into BLT and a menu-reader feels safe and understood: This is a Bacon Lettuce Tomato… WITH. I can say BOLT, BCLT, BJLT and you can easily guess what’s been added (olive, chicken, jalapeños, respectively, though you may be forgiven for thinking jam since I mentioned The Elvis).
Obviously there are the 2 inarguable cardinal rules: 1. The B always goes first 2. There must be bacon and lettuce and tomato. But where is the mayo mentioned?! Or even the bread (which must be toasted)?! Are these IMPLIED by “Sandwich” at the end of the title? What happens when it is called simply “BLT”? Is this why Grilled Cheese is simply Grilled Cheese and not Grilled Cheese Sandwich- for then there would be mayo? And if not then how does the Grilled Cheese acquire its bread? Is the bread not what makes something a sandwich?!****
If we accept the premise that it is the bread is indeed implied across the board in this manner then we must accept that the mayo is not or else Grilled Cheese would be gross. And if the mayo is not implied, then it can be mustard… can’t it?
So troubled was I in my silent hell that I agreed to take an Action Item from the meeting without the traditional “I’ll start that next week” comment that must follow when accepting any task on a Friday. A busy Friday, no less.
When I logged off and changed into my pajamas, settling the cat down with me for too many episodes of the West Wing, would I truly be doing so with a BLT? Or would I, in my desperate need for mild moister, have a simply unexciting bacon sandwich?
The mayo jar had fallen and was found among the assorted seltzers. I was free, and this is someone else’s problem.
*Jeff’s name has been changed for his safety. I do agree that Duke’s Mayo is the True Mayo but I cannot let my west-coast Hellman/Kewpie loving coworkers know this, as I am still suffering scars from the great Cheerwine Debate.
**The award for largest breaker of the most rules of food was long held by Cheesecake Factory. Their throne has been stolen by TikTok as an entity.
***Note this is on regular occasions/food places. If you are at any state fair, the sandwich has indeed been fried as a whole and you will never know what color the tomato was.
****Don’t. Don’t do it. Don’t argue with me about tacos and hotdogs and wraps. This is a sandwich discussion and I won’t have it.
If you got this far, the title BLTP is for Bacon Lettuce Tomato Ponderings.
