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Sardine Club Sandwich
Three slices of thinly cut white bread, toasted and buttered. Place a lettuce leaf that has been dipped in mayonnaise dressing on the lower slice, and on top of that put slices of broiled breakfast bacon, then put another slice of toast on top of that, with another lettuce leaf followed by boneless and skinless sardines split open, topped by a third slice of toasted bread. Garnish with slices of lemon cut very thin and dipped in finely chopped parsley.
A straightforward three-decker that needs almost no translation; the only real decisions are about the sardines and the assembly order.
- Sardines"Boneless and skinless" tins are still sold, though most supermarket sardines now come with the soft bones and skin left in, which are entirely edible. Either works; split them lengthwise as directed so they lie flat and do not roll out when the sandwich is cut.
- Breakfast baconGenerally understood in this period as thin-sliced streaky bacon. 'Broiled' means cooked under or over direct heat until crisp; a pan will give a similar result.
- Bread thicknessThin slices matter in a triple-decker: three thick slices plus two fillings makes a sandwich no one can bite. Cut them as thin as the loaf allows, and toast lightly so they stay pliable.
- Mayonnaise-dipped lettuceThe recipe dips the leaf rather than spreading the bread. Use a crisp leaf trimmed to the shape of the bread.
- Order of layersBacon on the bottom deck, sardines on the upper one, as written.
- Lemon garnishSlice the lemon paper-thin across the fruit and press one cut face into chopped parsley so it holds. This is a plate garnish and an acid note for squeezing, not a filling.
- YieldOne sandwich. The recipe gives no quantity for the sardines; enough split fillets to cover the middle slice.
The club sandwich was well established in American hotel and club dining rooms by the 1890s, and the double-decker toast-and-bacon formula became a template that cooks varied endlessly, as here. Tinned sardines were the obvious luxury-but-affordable fish of the era: packed in oil, shelf-stable, imported in quantity from France and Portugal and increasingly canned in Maine, they turned up in sandwiches, salads and savouries throughout turn-of-the-century cookery. Sandwich books like this one proliferated in the same period.