This seems like a good idea. You pay randwich.es $7 and they bring you a random sandwich. I haven’t tried them yet so I can’t vouch for them myself, but they seem to thrive on social-media word-of-mouth so maybe this is good for some extra bacon or something when I do make an order after they return from vacation on Feb. 3.

This cajun turkey, bacon, arugula, blue cheese, tomato and alfredo sauce sandwich looks promising:

Via reader Greg.

Also — since we’re on the topic of sandwiches (as we frequently are), I’m kicking around an idea in my head and I’m looking for some feedback: I bring a pretty humble sandwich for lunch almost every day. It’s healthier and less expensive than eating out in midtown.

Obviously no one wants to read a diary of every boring sandwich I eat, but what if I worked across the week to maximize the potential of the cold cuts I buy, then make posts about the best reasonably simple and inexpensive sandwiches I can conjure up with those meats and cheeses and the condiments and vegetables in my fridge? Does that have any appeal beyond making my lunches more interesting?

This one is difficult and important. As of right now, 67 percent of TedQuarters readers believe a whole wheat everything bagel with cream cheese is not a sandwich, though a boiling debate persists in the comments section.

Our man Devon reminds me that I have in the past classified a bagel with cream cheese as a sandwich — probably by email since I can’t find it in the archives — but I reserve the right to change my mind now. That exchange must have happened in some loosey-goosey era, sometime before I was dedicated to determining exactly what constituted a sandwich.

The candidate: A whole wheat everything bagel with cream cheese from H&H Midtown Bagels East on 2nd avenue between 81st and 82nd streets in Manhattan. Seth informs me that this H&H is not actually affiliated with the city’s west-side H&H bagel stores and that it’s another Famous Original Ray’s Pizza thing. But then, really, who cares? They’re really good bagels. More on that in a bit.

The construction: A whole wheat everything bagel with cream cheese, served… well, we’ll say “sandwich-style.” For what it’s worth, I never, ever deconstruct a bagel I get prepared for me at a bagelry. But if I’m eating a bagel at home I always split the bagel in half, spread cream cheese or butter on both halves and eat them separately — open-faced, if you will.

Arguments for sandwich-hood: It’s a form of bread on either side of a form of cheese. Though there’s always a ton of cream cheese and they inevitably require napkins, bagels with cream cheese are inarguably portable.

Counter-arguments: Well… it’s a bagel. And there’s no meat in there. Cream cheese feels more like a spread than a cheese.

How it tastes: This is the most important thing: Amazing. My wife and I spend a lot of our time seeking out good bagels, and we’ve determined that H&H has the best in our new neighborhood. They do enough business that the bagels are always fresh and often hot, and they’re perfectly prepared: boiled then baked, hearty and chewy on the inside with just a little bit of crunch on the outside.

H&H Midtown East puts its toppings on both sides of the bagels, which is not absolutely necessary but a nice bonus. I always get everything bagels because I like the addition of a little bit of salt and garlic flavors, but would never want my bagel overwhelmed by either of those seasonings in isolation. I’m not sure when or why I started ordering whole wheat bagels, nor am I certain I like them better than regular ones. I think I may have convinced myself they’re healthier.

Cream cheese is cream cheese: Hearty for a spread but fluffy for a cheese, with a delicious, mild tang that seems to perfectly complement the sweetness of a bagel.

What it’s worth: $2.25: Basically the same as a slice of pizza. But better for carbo-loading! I should note also that H&H Bagels Midtown East is open 24 hours, which is amazing and makes me so happy I live in the city again. I purchased and ate the bagel photographed above in the 1 a.m. hour.

The verdict: This is a dilemma. On one hand, we have the grilled cheese: Cheese between two pieces of bread and inarguably a sandwich. On the other, we have the buttered roll, bearing many of the qualities of a sandwich but — I think we can agree — pretty obviously not one.

I reserve the right to change my mind about this, but I’m prepared to say that a bagel with cream cheese is not a sandwich. It’s an amazing, delicious breakfast staple that can be enjoyed anytime, but it is not a sandwich.

The distinction lies, I believe, not in the nomenclature so much as the focus. A grilled cheese sandwich is a cheese sandwich. You’re in it for the cheese. The buttery bread is but a delicious vehicle for its delivery. The draw of a bagel with cream cheese is — to me at least — the bagel. The cream cheese is also awesome, but I think it is with good reason that you’d refer to it as a bagel with cream cheese, not a cream-cheese sandwich on bagel.

Does that make any sense? There’s a distinction here, and it’s important but also hard to put into words. I don’t mean to say that the thing doing the sandwiching can’t be a fundamental part of the sandwich because I don’t want to undercut all the great rolls and buns and breads of this world. But if the thing doing the sandwiching — the bagel, in this case — represents the bulk and the focus of the food item, then I’m not sure it’s a sandwich. Ham and cheese on a croissant is a sandwich, for instance, but a chocolate croissant is not.

I think if you added bacon or salmon to the bagel with cream cheese, it’d be a sandwich. But on its own — or even with one of those cream cheese with stuff in it that never really appeal to me — it’s just a bread product with a spread.

Continuing my quest to determine a unifying definition of “sandwich.”

Today’s candidate comes from the Upper East Side location of H&H Bagels, on 2nd Ave. between 80th and 81st streets:

That’s a whole wheat everything bagel with cream cheese. But is it a sandwich?

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Thanks to a Scottish sandwich shop there’s now a panini named after the Hollywood hunk. The Metro Sandwich Company devised a tribute to Pitt after the 47-year-old arrived in Glasgow this week to work on filming the post-apocalyptic zombie war movie, World War Z. When Pitt caught wind of the “Brad Pitt Special” from his film crew, the man himself sent his assistant to get the chorizo, salsa and cheddar sandwich, and quite literally ate himself.

So pleased with the nosh, he signed the outdoor poster promoting the mouthful of Pitt, writing “with extra onion and jalapeno…a delight for the senses. Many thx [sic] BP.”

– PopCrunch.com.

Before you fly off to Scotland in search of this sandwich, I should warn you about my experience with Scottish cuisine. My dad’s mother, the occasional White Castle craver, was born in Port Glasgow, Scotland and came to the U.S. at five or eight or 12, depending on how old she was claiming to be when telling the story. She was a smart, strong and hilarious woman, but an absolutely woeful cook. And every once in a while she’d get a hankering for the old-world cuisine, and on rare occasion she’d subject us to it.

Brutal. I can’t even figure out why Scottish meat pies would be gross, since they’re just pastries stuffed with meat and I’m on the record as loving that stuff. But somehow they’re remarkably dry, and the meat inside is gray and flavorless. Hell, just look at the names of some traditional Scottish cuisines: “Cullen Skink,” “Cock-a-leekie soup,” “Arbroath smokies,” “Collops,” “Clapshot.”

Excuse me for working blue, but is it me or do all of those things sound more like sexually transmitted diseases than foods? (I guess, for that matter, a similar case could be made for the “Brad Pitt Special.”)

And maybe all those things are actually delicious and I’m just biased because of my beautiful, awesome grandmother’s “cooking.” But until I’m convinced otherwise, I’m going to side with the Mike Myers line in So I Married an Axe Murderer? that says, “I believe most Scottish cuisine is based on a dare.”

All that said, a chorizo, salsa and cheddar sandwich sounds like it could be pretty delicious, assuming the chorizo is good.

Oh, one other thing about my grandmother and food: Every year around the second weekend of December, my dad and I went to go set up her Christmas decorations — a remarkably laborious process because she had a huge nativity set made of cement. And every year when we finished, she invited us in for tea and these really dry shortbread cookies she had, the type that come in a plaid tin.

One year I suggested to my dad that I thought she might be putting out the very same cookies every year, so I scratched the date on the back of one that I didn’t eat — 1995. Two years later that same cookie showed up on the plate, looking no worse for the wear. She must have kept them in the freezer, next to the meat pies.

This post by Brandon Spiegel at the Daily Meal is almost a year old, but I hadn’t seen it before today so it’s new to me. He lists his 10 favorite new sandwiches and follows it with the top 10 reader-suggested new sandwiches. The only one of these I’ve had is the fried-chicken sandwich from Bakesale Betty’s, a Hall of Famer.

Lots of good ideas here, but I’m toying with something I’m going to make myself that should blow them all out of the water if I can get it right. I’m not going to scoop the post I make when it’s perfected, but TedQuarters comments-section completists might have some idea what I’m working toward.

You ever walk past one of those rotisserie chicken places and see like 30 chickens rotating on spits and wonder how many chickens available for sale in New York City are actively cooking at that moment?

I do, and I have ever since one of my friends first brought the subject up for debate. I’ve got a ballpark estimate, but I’m curious what you’d guess.

To clarify: I’m not talking about chickens people are cooking in their homes here, or else I imagine the number would be astronomical.

And I don’t mean raw chickens that are about to be cooked. I mean chickens cooking in restaurants and takeout places and supermarkets and anyplace else that might sell cooked chicken in the five boroughs of New York City on any given Wednesday night around 7 p.m.

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