If you wish to be pedantic about it, the first mention of the word "sandwich" appeared in an English diary in 1762. And the act of layering meat, cheese or other items between slices of bread can be …
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![With a long list of meats, the Mule may seem daunting at first. But it has plenty of finesse. [Dave Faries]](https://epsilon.creativecirclecdn.com/mexicoledger/original/20210906-204541-Dagwood%27s%20sandwich.jpg)
If you wish to be pedantic about it, the first mention of the word "sandwich" appeared in an English diary in 1762. And the act of layering meat, cheese or other items between slices of bread can be traced to the Mediterranean.
Yet there is likely no other dish that defines America like the sandwich. The po' boy and muffaletta reveal the soul of New Orleans. Beef on weck is more Buffalo than the chicken wing. There are Philadelphia cheesesteaks and Kentucky's hot brown. Say sub, hoagie or grinder and people know your geographical identity. And the burger is an American icon.
Yes, the hamburger – or hamburg steak – came from Germany. But it found its way onto a bun in this country.
Dagwood Jr. in Mexico is a perfect place to explore the possibilities of the sandwich. The menu is extensive, ranging from simple to the more elaborate.
The mule shows off the virtuosity of deli meat. It is stacked with ham, roast beef, corned beef, pastrami, bologna, cotto salami, turkey -- probably anything Brad Deihl and his crew can run through the slicer.
On paper it seems monstrous. Yet the meats are slivered so delicately they swoon on the palate. Turkey wilts into beef, beef into ham, ham into pastrami until the dissonant flavors become one.
Yet their unique characters peek through. The turkey carries a gentle briny note that works well with the mellow balm of cotto and bologna. There's a flicker of spice, an underscore of earthy minerality from the beef and the sweet touch of ham.
The combination is rich, but not overburdened. The bread holds firm without interfering with the cascading meats while contributing a nutty aspect.
It's this willingness to pile things, to experiment that makes the sandwich so popular. It can come in many guises. The format is so well suited to American culture we consume more than 300 million a day.
A New York Times writer observed as much back in 1924. "The vogue of the sandwich is attributed to a considerable extent to the rush of modern business life," he wrote. "Men have no time to sit around leisurely waiting for large orders."
