Why The B.L.T. Is The Greatest Sandwich In The World
Text by Jenn Davies
Illustration by Annu Kilpeläinen
I have a long and somewhat perverse history with the BLT sandwich, one that started as a Jewish kid in line at the lunch truck at my all-girls Catholic school in Pasadena. The first time I tried one, it was off that truck.
It was a couple of weeks into my freshman year and I was tired of the chicken and rice quesadillas I had become accustomed to ordering. In frustration, I scanned the rest of the menu. The BLT was one of two sandwiches listed: BLT (bacon, lettuce, tomato) and grilled cheese. It was buried underneath the more sizable sections of tacos, quesadillas and burritos.
That first bite was a revelation. It was like hearing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ for the first time. That combination of salt, fat and crunch was an irresistible compression of flavors. But where had this sandwich been all my life? Turns out, I spent 14 years missing out on one of the greatest symbols of true Americana.
While the sandwich is known as a distinctly American dish, some believe it’s actually a descendant of an English tea sandwich that originated during the Victorian era. BLT expert and author of The BLT Cookbook, Michele Jordan believes that the sandwich is a variation on the club sandwich. And that you can trace its roots to the US railways.
“Tracing it back doesn’t really lead to any solid information but the best thing I’ve come up with is we have to look to train service, where the club sandwich got really popular,” Jordan recently told me. “It seems to me that the BLT became a version of the club sandwich.”
In researching her 2003 book, Jordan says she came across what she believes is the first mention of a BLT sandwich in a 1903 Ladies Home Journal magazine article. But it could have been invented much earlier. People were baking bread in the US in the 1800s and the tomato started to gain in popularity in the early-to-mid 1800s as well. Pork was introduced to the New World in the 16th century. And mayonnaise was invented by the French in the 1700s and the first commercial mayonnaise was sold in the US in the early 1900s.
It’s fair to say an inventive individual might have put bacon, tomato, lettuce, mayonnaise and bread together before the 20th century, but Jordan argues it was most likely derived from the club sandwiches served as part of mid-to-late 19th century club car dining culture.
According to Jordan, the sandwich really gained in popularity in the late ’90s and early 2000s, around the same time a monthly subscription service called the Bacon of the Month Club was created by Dan Phillips. He curated boutique artisan bacon from various producers and mailed them to bacon-lovers everywhere. Around this time, Jordan noticed the BLT expanding in popularity.
If there’s ever a question as to the cultural importance of a food, look to the fast-food giants for reassurance. Taco Bell released a limited-run BLT taco in the ’90s stuffed with bits of bacon, shredded lettuce, club sauce (your garden variety pink sauce) and cheddar cheese. At Burger King and McDonald’s, your burger magically transformed into a BLT burger or sandwich with the addition of bacon. Arby’s seems to be the only fast-food chain honoring the true BLT: strips of bacon, fresh lettuce and sliced tomato on sliced bread swiped with mayonnaise. The New York Times recently published a recipe for a BLT pasta.
And the sandwich is copiously mythologised in other continents as well. Chinese food blogs publish recipes for BLT fried rice. Want to make a BLT in Taiwan? Use fluffy steamed bao instead of bread. Try Vietnamese-style BLT summer rolls wrapped in rice paper. Or a Mexican-ish BLT quesadilla. Want an Italian BLT? Swap out the bacon for pancetta. A coffee shop in Gloucestershire, UK, showers its BLT in gold dust and charges more than $200 for the pleasure. But possibly most impressive was the ability to reach beyond the earth’s atmosphere and right into space. Chef Heston Blumenthal made a version of a BLT sandwich with canned bacon for astronaut Tim Peak in 2016.
Assembling the sandwich is nothing short of a feat of engineering. Jordan suggests bread, mayo, tomato, bacon, lettuce, mayo, bread. I know she wrote an entire book on the BLT, but I’m going to have to disagree. My strategy is to encase all possible mush: bread, mayo, lettuce, tomato, bacon, mayo, bread. Trap that tomato and any moisture in the middle and your sandwich won’t fall apart. And one last thing. While you can respectably cut a PB&J diagonally, cut your BLT down the middle. If you want the proper distribution of ingredients in every bite, the right path is straight down the center.
Making a BLT at home has become a sort of ritual over the years. If I’m in town on a Sunday, I put on Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, tie on my black Russ and Daughters apron and head into the kitchen. I often eat my sandwich at my breakfast nook, barefoot, and attempt to savor it slowly. I’m usually wiping the last bits of mayonnaise from the corners of my mouth by the time ‘Silver Springs’ starts to fade.
