The sandwich chain Earl of Sandwich is owned by the actual Earl of Sandwich

The Eleventh Earl of Sandwich and his forty-year-old heir, Orlando William Montagu, entered the catering trade in 2001, establishing a chain of sandwich restaurants called Earl of Sandwich. Their partner is the guy who founded Planet Hollywood. They have outlets at the Downtown Disney Marketplace and in the Fort Drum Service Plaza, in Okeechobee, Florida. Later this year, they will open branches in New York, one in midtown and another on John Street. Let this be a sort of two-lantern alarm to the Katzes and the Eisenbergs and the Defontes of the city: the Montagus are coming, and, according to their literature, “we don’t serve mere sandwiches. We serve The Sandwich.”…

The family estate is in Dorset, and the Montagus also keep apartments in London. Both father and son employ cooks, but they have strong opinions about sandwich construction, even if the construction of their sandwiches is often subcontracted. Eating lunch with them was like perusing knitwear with the descendants of the Earl of Cardigan, or sitting around with the Wellington family–of which Orlando’s wife is a member — talking rubber boots. “I don’t like everything poured onto a sandwich,” the Earl said. “I like one or two things, but most people like a huge choice nowadays, so we have to accept that,” he said, with the regretful air of a viceroy lamenting the fall of the Raj.

According to the British Sandwich Association — it sponsors such awards as British Sandwich Designer of the Year (there are chicken, chutney, and salmon categories) and New Sandwich of the Year (the shortlist for 2011 includes Pret’s sweet-chili-crayfish-and-mango bloomer and Tesco’s Finest Moroccan-chicken flatbread) –the top three sandwiches in Britain are chicken salad, prawn mayonnaise, and egg and cress. The Earl favors salt beef and Colman’s mustard. (So much for Grey Poupon!) His son is partial to celery salt.

Lauren Collins, The New Yorker.

Wow. Wow. Obviously that’s a lot more than I normally excerpt, and forgive me for not including a link: I actually have not seen the full text of the article, merely a pdf excerpt courtesy of real-life friend Rich (Lt. Ret.). The story is online for New Yorker subscribers.

There’s just so much here. First off, the news that the sandwich chain Earl of Sandwich, coming soon to a 52nd St. location just a couple doors down from my office building, is actually affiliated with the legit Earl of Sandwich. Who saw that coming?

Plus, it’s great to hear that the contemporary Earl of Sandwich and his heir are keeping the family tradition alive and have “strong opinions about sandwich construction.” I have strong opinions about sandwich construction! Hey, I have something in common with British nobility! The world just got a little bit smaller.

This site is and has always been about sandwiches for the people and by the people (among other things, of course), and so I cast a leery eye upon weighty sandwich distinctions that seem to reward the designer sandwich set. But it’s hard not to at least appreciate the work being done by the British Sandwich Association — heretofore unknown to me — if not for the actual sandwiches it’s honoring, then for its general enthusiasm for the meal and any effect it might have toward destigmatizing the sandwich as a mere afterthought in the realm of high culinary arts. Not that any of that really matters once you find a good one, of course.

Unfortunately, the Wikipedia tells me that a Sugar Land, Texas Earl of Sandwich franchise is part-owned by noted jackass Roger Clemens, a festering boil on the ass of an otherwise promising sandwich endeavor.

 

Because the one thing the Internet lacks is stuff about Jose Reyes’ contract situation

I missed most of the goings-on in the Mets world last week, but it seems like the team is still playing around .500 baseball, the media is still producing a ton of speculative trade and contract nonsense with which bloggers and fans are running wild, and Jose Reyes is still awesome. So status quo.

And it sounds like there’s a growing, backlashy sentiment in some corners that says something along the lines of, “Well if the Mets are in fourth place with Jose Reyes, they could easily be in fourth place without him.”

Since plenty of it has come from reasonable Mets fans, let’s assume for the sake of this post that it is not the Blame-Beltran dreck obnoxiously attached to star players so frequently in the recent past. I don’t think it is — no one with even a mild feel for the rules of baseball could possibly argue that Reyes’ contributions have not massively improved the Mets’ chances of winning games in 2011.

I’m pretty sure the idea is more something like this: If the Mets can’t consistently play above .500 ball with Reyes in the midst of an MVP-caliber season, then they’ll need to do more than just bring back Reyes to compete in 2012 and beyond. And since Reyes appears likely to net a massive contract that would render the Mets incapable of bringing on many more players (assuming they can even afford him), they should consider trading him before the deadline because we see now that it will take more than Jose Reyes playing at his most awesome to make them a competitive team.

I think that’s generally it, at least. Is that generally it?

OK. Well first off, the Mets are also playing .500 ball without David Wright and Ike Davis. Players are always going to be hurt, but probably not always two of the team’s four best hitters. Who could say where the Mets would be in the standings today if they had enjoyed full health from their corner infielders? And so maybe an optimistic blogger could argue that with Reyes back next year, Davis and Wright playing every day, improvements from some of the young guys already contributing, some luck, some good roster management and a little bit of help from the farm system, the Mets might not be as far from contending as they currently seem.

But that’s besides the point. The point is, it has never been about Trade Reyes or Sign Reyes. The Mets’ front office is only one player in any scenario involving Reyes’ future, and Sandy Alderson’s best approach to the decision must be dictated by at least one other actor. If the Dodgers want to trade Clayton Kershaw — locked up under team control through 2014 — for the next three months of Jose Reyes, well then duh.

They don’t, obviously, but you see what I’m saying. Reyes has value to the Mets now and until the end of the season, both in terms of helping them win games and in helping them fill seats and put eyeballs on screens. He offers them some value in compensatory draft picks if he walks as a free agent, and — though I can’t say this for certain — he may be less likely to re-sign with the Mets in the offseason if they trade him beforehand. And he presents value to whatever team inks him to his next contract.

We don’t know how much. We don’t know what Reyes will return in a trade, we don’t know what he’ll get in free agency, and we don’t know what he’ll wind up being worth to the team that signs him. We can only guess. And there are tons of variables involved.

It’s something to talk about, I suppose, and maybe it’s fun to speculate about possible deals or a possible future with Reyes lighting up the Mets’ all-time record books. But with the money Reyes is going to cost, there’s no real obvious solution for the Mets, only a front office charged with an incredibly tough decision.

The way I see it, elite free-agent shortstops don’t often hit the open market at 28 years old. And since the Mets are still a big-market club that will always have a big payroll, if they’re going to open up the coffers for anyone, he’s the dude. Sure they’re only playing .500 ball with him at his best, but that’s hardly his fault, and he’s young enough and they’ve got enough decent pieces that they can reasonably hope to build a contending club while he’s well within his prime.

But there has got to be a limit, of course. If some GM wants to blow the Mets away with a deadline deal that could bring them a package of prospects Alderson believes will make up the core of a perennial pennant-winner, or if another team wants to offer Reyes a contract that makes Carl Crawford blush, then we might have to face the possibility of a future without Reyes. And truth is, we probably won’t know for years if whatever decision the Mets’ front office makes is the right one.

Until then, though, we can sit here and yell about it a lot.

Assault and flattery

Here’s by far the most interesting thing that happened to me on vacation:

My wife and I were walking near Union Square in San Francisco, fresh off the trolley, trying to get our directional bearings and looking, I imagine, very much like the tourists we were.

From behind us, we heard stomping — someone very large running in our direction. It happened too quickly for us to orient ourselves to the noise, and before I could turn around, a hand grabbed my right buttcheek and gave it a strong squeeze.

I spun to face my assailant. A very large woman, maybe six-feet tall and 180 pounds, either homeless or at least dressed in all the regalia typically associated with homelessness, stood staring at us with a menacing scowl.

“Got that ass!” she yelled.

Initially, I felt a bit disappointed that my wife made no effort whatsoever to defend my honor, even if she stood no chance in a fight against this terrifying woman.

I learned later that my wife had no idea the woman grabbed my rear-end. She assumed the ass in question was hers, and that yelling “Got that ass!” was the woman’s way of complimenting me for, well, acquiring it — not that a man walking along the street with a woman maintains any dominion over any part of her body, but, well, maybe this lady doesn’t share our worldview and whatever.

Still shocked, I muttered something to my wife about getting the hell out of there to avoid further confrontation, and we scurried away without incident.

In the immediate wake of the goosing I felt a bit violated, but later mostly flattered. There were so many asses to choose from on that street, and this woman ran some distance to grab mine.

That means something, and I appreciate it. I don’t condone such behavior and I ask that if you happen to see me in public you avoid the temptation to give me the same treatment, but in the case of this one isolated incident, I am grateful for the ego boost. And maybe I shouldn’t put too much stock in the judgment of people who do crazy things in public, but then maybe this is just a crazy world and there’s one sane lady roaming the streets of San Francisco.

TedQuarters: Not the home of objective journalism

i see when there are posts that are negative to your views you just delete them. where is objective journalism? who cares about your opinions about anything other than the mets? for example, i saw a pvt screening of “MoneyBall” last night. Since when are you a movie critic? i can go on and on-you are a no talent.

Jason, via email.

Usually I don’t indulge folks like Jason here with responses via blog posts, but since he did not furnish me a working email address with which to reply privately, I figured I’d have a go at it here. This is all extremely petty:

First of all, I have no idea what he’s talking about. As you may know, I was on vacation last week. I spent part of Saturday cuing up a few posts to roll out while I was gone, then set off to California on Sunday. I did not touch this site while I was gone. A few others have administrative access, but since they (obviously) have less invested in the site than I do, I imagine it would take a particularly hateful or profane comment to capture their attention.

Also, best I can tell from the site’s CMS, no comments have been deleted, flagged or unapproved in the last 30 days. If you were around the comments section while I was gone you might know something I don’t, but best I can tell, whatever Jason’s referring to did not happen.

This is not a democracy — the site is called TedQuarters, and I maintain the right to delete any comment I want for any reason. But it so happens I rarely do. We’ve been through this: The people who regularly comment here are awesome enough that the comments section does a pretty good job of policing itself, and I can rely on a very vague commenting policy of “everybody just be cool” and count on it happening. The only comments that will reliably get deleted are bigoted ones and personal attacks on other commenters that cross the line — provided I catch them.

Also, Jason, I’m not sure why you came here looking for objective journalism. I don’t believe any such thing exists, for one thing. For another, this is a blog, not a news source. All the content here is driven by my opinions. Again: The site is called TedQuarters.

I don’t know why anyone would care about my opinions about anything besides the Mets. But I don’t know why anyone would care about my opinions about the Mets, either. Who the hell am I? I’m not a former player or scout. I’ve never been employed by any Major League front office. I stumbled my way into a job at a team-affiliated television network because I have a decent sense of the English language and a strong sense of how hard one has to work to find and maintain a job in sports. I got my first full-time job in journalism in part because — no joke — another guy got hit by a car and died soon after I started a part-time job in journalism. Random chance.

And that’s not me trying to sound humble; I’m anything but. I think I’m good at the blogging part of this job and the other parts too. But I recognize that there are hundreds of unemployed Mets fans that could do an equally fine job who just haven’t been as lucky as I have.

Jason, why you managed to get so upset over the post I made about Moneyball is beyond me. If someone deleted some inflammatory comment you made about that post that did not deserve to be deleted, I apologize. And we are all very impressed that you found your way into a private screening of that film. But if you are not interested in my opinions — which is undoubtedly your right — there is a very, very simple solution: Do not read TedQuarters.

And then you won’t have to even bother sending me nasty emails about my lack of talent and objectivity.

I award you no points and may God have mercy on your soul.

Vacation all I ever wanted

Today is the last day of my vacation. I’m back in New York, but I’m fresh off a red-eye from Burbank and I have a lot of stuff to take care of before I head back to the office tomorrow. There will be more here about the week I just spent in California and some of the food I ate there, but for now allow some loosely collected thoughts while they’re on my mind, before I pass out:

– Dodger Stadium is gorgeous. I scored great seats to yesterday’s game a week ago on Stubhub with no idea I was in for a Jered Weaver-Clayton Kershaw matchup. The game was awesome; Kershaw threw a complete game and the Dodgers won on a walk-off double by Chris Gwynn. The park — the 28th big-league stadium I’ve been to — was equally impressive. My wife pointed out that it looks a little like something from the Jetsons, which makes sense: Both the Jetsons and Dodgers Stadium came out in 1962, trying to look futuristic. The stadium couples that retro charm with the natural beauty of the hills and mountains beyond center field.

I think I am biased toward the 60s and 70s era ballparks because I grew up watching games at Shea Stadium. But I hope Dodger Stadium and Kauffman Stadium in Kansas City last until they are recognized as classics. Their appeal may be more subtle than that of a Wrigley or Fenway, but they are great places to watch games.

– I believe people should be allowed to enjoy baseball however they want. But if you purport to be a Dodger fan and you were spending more time yesterday focused on a beachball than the game Kershaw was throwing, we probably don’t have much in common. Here’s your 23-year-old ace squaring off in a masterful pitcher’s duel with the best pitcher from across town, and for most of the game the loudest reactions from the crowd came when fans let beachballs drop to the levels below.

With two outs and the game tied 1-1 in the top of the ninth, Kershaw allowed a solo home run to Vernon Wells that put the Angels ahead. Still, after he closed out the inning, I shot up to applaud him, figuring any pitcher that completed nine innings of two-run ball with 11 strikeouts and no walks would inevitably earn a standing ovation from his home crowd. But alas. I was the only person standing in my section, and maybe the only one who even noticed Kershaw had thrown nine innings.

To the Dodger fans’ credit, the place rocked pretty hard in the bottom of the ninth when the home team staged its comeback victory.

– Driving around Northern California is a great way to end up with a bunch of Rancid and Primus songs in your head. Driving around Southern California is a great excuse to annoy your wife with a barrage of nonstop movie and television references.

– I made it to the World’s Nicest Taco Bell, in Pacifica. Words can’t really describe how nice that Taco Bell is. Here’s a photo of the view from its outdoor seating area, which doesn’t really do it justice at all:

Full speed ahead tomorrow, fully rested. Jose Reyes is still pretty great, huh?

Twitter Q&A-style thing

I’m still elsewhere. Here are some questions from last week. If anything has massively impacted since the weekend, maybe some of my opinions have changed since I wrote this. Maybe not. Some grim questions:

I don’t know… fear? Guilt? Shame?

Seriously why do so many people ask about what food I’d want if I were on death row? Do you know something about me that I haven’t figured out yet? Why not ask what food I’d want if, I don’t know, a genie came out of this here Vitamin Water Zero bottle and offered me any sandwich in the world?

Off the top of my head, and working from a very small sample size, it’s probably the breaded steak sandwich from Ricobene’s. I’ve been thinking about it since I ate it. I might get it with bacon on it, though — even if that wasn’t an option and doesn’t seem to go with the sandwich. It’s hard to imagine my last sandwich not having bacon.

Are we talking my last meal ever all told and I’m eating it at Citi Field, or my last meal ever at Citi Field? Stupid 140-character limits make it difficult to specify, I know.

If it’s the former, I’d probably try to get there early enough to brave the Shake Shack lines without missing any of the game. I don’t know what scenario has me eating my last meal ever at Citi Field, but there are worse ways to go out than eating a Shackburger and watching a ballgame.

If it’s the latter, and I’m at the game knowing I will for whatever reason never be permitted to eat at Citi Field again but that I’ll still be able to eat elsewhere, I’d probably get the tacos. As far as I know they are still unavailable outside the park.

A few people have asked me this and I keep answering the same thing: No reason to pick between Daniel Murphy, Justin Turner and Ruben Tejada yet. Since Ike Davis and David Wright look like they’ll be out until at least the All-Star Break, there will be plenty of at-bats for all three potential second basemen before the team needs to make any decision. Obviously teams should work with the most evidence possible, and since all three — and especially Turner and Tejada — are still dealing in small samples, there’s no rush to name a favorite.

But that’s a cop out. If we’re saying for the sake of things that Tejada, Turner and Murphy maintain their current lines (as I write this, Tejada’s is .274/.352/.305, Turner’s is .279/.348/.388 and Murphy’s is .291/.346/.409), then I would hope the Mets go back to the Murphy/Turner platoon, with Tejada starting at shortstop in Triple-A.

Tejada has played well and is likely the best defender of the trio, but he’s also likely the weakest hitter and I’m not certain he would save enough runs with his glove to make up for the difference on offense. Plus Tejada appears the best in-house option to replace Jose Reyes if he leaves via free agency or trade, so if the Mets are looking down the road a bit — even if they hope to sign Reyes — it can’t hurt to have Tejada racking up reps at shortstop.

Murphy could get the bulk of the starts against right-handers, with Turner starting against lefties and, if Terry Collins is looking to get him some at-bats, when groundball heavy pitchers like Jon Niese and R.A. Dickey are on the mound.

Moneyball reimagined

As you may know, the trailer for the forthcoming Moneyball movie hit the Internet last week. It looks, well, kind of terrible. Here it is:

If you’ve read this site with some regularity, you might know I prefer movies in which things explode. There are precisely zero explosions in the trailer for Moneyball, unless you count Brad Pitt (as Billy Beane) upending his desk.

Anyway, it looks from the trailer like the Moneyball movie is going to be more about a ragtag group of unlikely heroes than exploiting market inefficiencies (which obviously makes a lot of sense, movie-wise). But the way I see it, if Michael Lewis dramatized the story a bit when he wrote it and now studio execs and screenwriters are taking liberties of their own, why not really push it?

Here are versions of the Moneyball movie I would more likely enjoy:

Action: Jason Statham stars as a rogue general manager who probes too deeply into baseball’s numbers and discovers something he wasn’t supposed to know. Now 29 other GMs will stop at nothing to destroy him, unless he takes care of them first. Vengeance is the new market inefficiency. Features scene of Statham as Billy Beane and sexy spreadsheet vixen Megan Fox diving from exploding stadium.

Sabromance: Billy Beane (Paul Rudd) has everything: Smarts, good looks, a great family, and a dream job in baseball. But when tough times force him to make some unpopular decisions at work, he finds out that what he needs most is a loyal friend. A story of two men who learn that stripping baseball of its soul just might save their own. Some gross-out manboob humor. With Jonah Hill as Paul DePodesta.

Musical: The stuffed-shirt commissioner of baseball has banned dancing, but a young hotshot GM is ready to change all that. Starring Matthew Morrison from Glee.

Film Noir: I can’t figure out how Moneyball might be remade as a film noir, but I bet it’d be sweet. You know I’m on vacation, right?

Any movie with Terry Crews: We don’t spend nearly enough time discussing how great Terry Crews is. I watched about a half hour of the movie White Chicks the other night because it had Terry Crews in it. Guy steals every scene he has ever been in.

Random ranking wonky

Dave sent along ESPN the Magazine’s “Ultimate Team Rankings,” and though usually I try not to get worked up over something so obviously arbitrary, it’s notably random even for this type of exercise.

The magazine ranks every major sports franchise in “Bang for the Buck,” “Fan Relations,” “Ownership,” “Affordability,” “Stadium Experience,” “Players,” “Coaching,” and “Title Track,” based largely on polls, then weights each category by its importance to the fans polled to create a master ranking of sports franchises.

“A more detailed breakdown of the rankings” is available to subscribers, but a visitor need only sort the baseball teams to note that something is probably a bit wonky. Predictably, the Mets are last — but that seems rather justifiable compared to some of the other placements.

The Red Sox, who play in a historic ballpark that sells out all the time, spend tons of money on payroll and make the playoffs almost every year, are ranked 24th — just below the Washington Nationals. The Yankees are 22nd, closely trailing the Marlins and Pirates.

Probably the polls say a bit more about the attitudes of the respective fanbases than the relative fan experiences.

Long Island Mets?

The owners of the Long Island Ducks and the New York Mets have pitched competing proposals to build a minor-league baseball field in Nassau County.

Robert Brodsky, Newsday.

Oh, man. I should mention for those who don’t know that I grew up about ten minutes south of Mitchel Field, the proposed site of this Minor League baseball field. I worked close by at Nassau Community College for a while, and I used to go to the batting cages at Eisenhower Park all the time. It’s well within my frame of reference, I guess I’m saying.

And it’d be sweet to have Mets prospects playing full-season ball someplace so accessible. I don’t know if it makes any sense economically, and I imagine there might be plenty of pissed-off taxpayers if the proposal goes through. Plus the article makes the Mets’ proposal sound more like a last-minute counter to the Ducks’ than anything else.

But it’s fun to think about. The South Atlantic League now stretches as far north as Lakewood, New Jersey, so I suppose it’s possible the Mets could try to convince that league to let them move a club to Long Island. That club’s road trips would be brutal, though.

It seems like a Double-A Eastern League team would make more sense logistically, since the Eastern League has teams in Connecticut, New Jersey, New Hampshire, and Pennsylvania. The Mets have been affiliated with Binghamton since 1991.

Also: Full-season Minor League clubs start playing in early April, and this stadium would be practically next door to Nassau Coliseum. If the Islanders were ever to advance deep into the NHL Playoffs, any night both clubs were home the traffic would be unreal. But then… well, easy punchline.

I’m on vacation. I meant to have more cued up for this week before I left, but time did that pesky thing it often does. There will be posts all week, but it will be slow. I’ll be back in a week, rested and (I hope) with several new sandwich experiences to share.

James Franco really pushing it

Of course, for the true connoisseur, they’ll want to dream bigger—such as spending $100 on a full-scale imaginary steamboat that was used in Franco’s imaginary movie, which imaginarily floats and features imaginary rooms to live in. Or even dropping $10,000 on “Fresh Air,” which is an endless supply of air all around you, forever, that you can actually breathe. Again, all of these pieces are meant to “open our eyes to the unseen universe that exists at every moment” as “we exchange ideas and dreams as currency in the New Economy.”

Sean O’Neal, Onion A.V. Club.

This has got to be the best evidence yet for the case that James Franco is messing with everybody, right?

And if he is, does that count as performance art or just a funny longform prank?

Via Catsmeat.