If I had to choose between being a vegan or becoming totally ‘carb-free’, I think I’d just get on a plane to Switzerland and let Dignitas have its way. (Note to any potential suicides out there: I CERTAINLY WOULDN’T JUMP UNDER A SODDING TUBE TRAIN BECAUSE ITS THE MOST HORRIBLE, INCONSIDERATE, SELFISH AND EVIL THING YOU CAN DO). Because although I love meat, I love bread too. And simply could never imagine life without a sandwich.

But we all have variations on the Earl of Sandwich’s 18th century invention, so legend has it. I mean, what’s a pizza? It’s bread and stuff. That’s a sandwich. What’s a kebab? Bread and stuff. Let’s not get precious about how its arranged, take bread, add ‘things’ and you have a sandwich.

The classic British sandwich is bread-heavy. Two doorsteps of horrible white bread with the merest sliver of cheese, or ham, or cucumber, and loads of butter. Which is not to my taste at all. I NEVER put butter on a sandwich. Normally there’s no room.

When my kids were little and Mel went back to work on Saturdays, I always made her a sandwich for lunch. Because I couldn’t trust her to do it PROPERLY. She’d just shove a tiny morsel of anything in between bread and seal the deal. So I would step in and make The Sandwich. Which Rachie, always and forever a total foodie, would help me create. Natalie would be upstairs screaming because I’d opened a jar of pickle and that always was and still is a rather hysterical red-line in her life.

Rachie is home from Berlin for the weekend, for her birthday. A tradition with her friends. They come round, drink 19 bottles of vodka between them, then hit a club somewhere. Wherever Uber takes them. So she needed some food beforehand. And requested The Sandwich. Which was, as always, a Friday-night-dinner-leftover sandwich. But taken to new levels.

I cut two (fucking massive, but not too thick) slices of challah. The best bread anyone has ever made. I start with a layer of Branson pickle (sorry Nat), then spread chopped liver across the slice. Next is stuffing from the chicken, followed by avocado. Then the cold roast chicken, followed by tomatoes. Spread some (low calorie, obvs) mayo on the top slice and you have something that looks like it came off ‘Man vs Food’. Three inches thick and simply oozing. The ‘challenge’. Which Rachie, who on the other 364 days of the year is the most good-food-conscious-person alive, put away like a champion. With a smile all over her face.

Happy Birthday (tomorrow) babe

(d)A(d) xxxx