The Original 1762 came wrapped in gold foil, a toasty rectangle of fresh bread, roast beef, cheddar cheese and horseradish sauce. And it was good.
The Earl of Sandwich, a sandwich chain owned and run by John Montagu (the 11th Earl of Sandwich and a member of the House of Lords) and Robert Earl (the creator of the Planet Hollywood empire) is opening a new location in midtown Manhattan tomorrow, and I got a chance to try the first sandwich made at the new spot in the distinguished company of both Earls (along with Caroline Montague, the Countess of Sandwich and John's wife).
As I chewed, the Earl of Sandwich, lanky and unsurprisingly distinguished-looking in a dark suit and tie, explained how the idea to open a business capitalizing on his family history came about:
"My son Orlando has always said, all my children said, 'We should have a share of the sandwich, everywhere that it is.' So it's been a family standard joke."
Robert Earl, more casual in his open-collared shirt, took it from there, saying, "His son approached me, and said you're in the restaurant and marketing world, and we have rather a good brand."
Which might be a bit of an understatement. The sandwich was named "the sandwich" in honor of John Montagu's 18th-century ancestor, the 4th Earl of Sandwich (who was also named John). Most sources give the Earl's gambling habit as inspiration for the meat-between-bread concoction that came to be named after him, as he was supposedly too busy with cards to eat a normal meal, and asked for the quick and easy sandwich instead. Some historians dispute this, though, as does the 11th Earl, who blames the encyclopedias for repeating the myth. It's just as likely that the 4th Earl was, as the Countess pointed out, "a workaholic--he was the first Lord of the Admiralty twice!"
Even if Earl No. 4 was a gambler, the tradition has mostly died out in the family. I asked the present-day Earl about his gaming habits. His reply: "Oh my god! Is that the question? I haven't put money on horses for years, though I did win 50 quid, once."
After the initial earl-filled meeting between Orlando Montagu and Robert Earl, The Earl of Sandwich (the restaurant--this might get a little confusing) opened its first location in Orlando, FL (yes, I know) in 2004.
Earl chose to open the chain within Disney's Downtown Disney shopping center because he sees Disney as "a true cross-section of the whole of America," and because he lives nearby. Cross-section or no, he told me that the Disney location is "the highest-grossing sandwich shop in America. One million people a year buy sandwiches there."
And now, with storefronts already open in 16 locations, "global domination is the goal."
Towards that end, Earl, half-jokingly, said that he's "thinking of asking every restaurant in America to stop using the word 'sandwich'," noting that they do have a trademark on the term. I ask him what a viable alternative might be: "I don't care!"
My Original 1762 half-done, Earl crumples up the wrapper and tells me to choose another. After I politely protest, the Earl and the Countess charitably agree to split half with me, and I pick the Full Montagu from the fairly varied menu (which you can check out here)--a fully-loaded sandwich that adds turkey, swiss, mustard, lettuce and tomato to the Original's roast beef and cheddar.
Asked about his thoughts on food, the Earl of Sandwich demurs, saying that he would "never say that I was a food expert, but I do have opinions, and tastes."
Such as?
"I eat anything with mustard, actually, and I prefer English to French mustard. I don't really want a creamy mustard, I like something pretty spicy."
Also, having an "American grandmother from a Chicago family," the Earl does "know something of the American appetite." Namely, that it is "a little bit bigger" than his native English.
The Full Montagu arrives, and lives up to the name--as any sandwich aficionado knows, turkey is the filler of the sandwich meat world, and it admirably adds low-key heft to the roast beefy and cheesy mix.
Interestingly, as Earl points out, the price is the same for every sandwich, from the vegetarian Caprese up to the weightier Full Montagu, letting lunchers pick based on preference over price (sandwiches are $5.99 alone, with combos costing an extra $2.00). And, like any promoter worth his salt, he points out that the bread is a "secret recipe, a combination between a sourdough and a french bread."
Happily munching, I ask the Earl if he'd been to New York City much before, and he mentions the 1964 World's Fair. With some post-lunch research, I found that he was a guest of honor at the 7-Up Sandwich Pavilion, which featured regionally-themed sandwiches and limitless supplies of 7-Up for fairgoers. Happily, he's strayed from the England sandwich for his restaurant chain, since I'd bet at least 50 quid that no one wants "cream cheese and currant jelly on English raisin bread" these days (and ugh, those colors).
I finished up the Full Montagu, and noticed that a crowd--"our first guinea pigs," as Earl called them--was gathering outside. My mission of eating a sandwich with the Earl of Sandwich at the Earl of Sandwich complete, I thanked Robert Earl, The Earl, and the Countess for their time, and went on my way.
(The Earl of Sandwich is opening their [his?!] Midtown Manhattan location on 52nd St. between 6th and 5th Avenue this Friday, September 2nd, and plans on opening a downtown location at 90 John St. in the near future)