The tomato sandwich

Published 10:46 am Thursday, July 28, 2022

There’s one great thing about summer in the south. Vegetables — tomatoes and corn top my list. Each summer, I await the season’s harvest with the anticipation of a child on Christmas. As you read these words (if you love God, your momma, and SEC football), you probably started contemplating your next homegrown tomato sandwich. Notice I said homegrown. Not grocery store grown; not in a restaurant. Nope. Homegrown. You get these one of three ways: You grow them; your neighbors, family, or friends grow them; or you can buy them at a roadside farm stand (hipsters, millennials, and other such might say farmer’s market, but I am talking about those roadside stands on the side of Highway 441 on the way to Athens).

My favorite southern writer, Lewis Grizzard, once stated, “It’s difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a homegrown tomato.” 

No one has ever said it better in my opinion. 

My mind will rush to all things beautiful such as big tarpon, speckled trout, hungry bass and gobbling turkeys. I can hear in my mind the beautiful sounds of Treeing Walkers on the trail and smell the Newport cigarettes my best friend, who is long gone, smoked in the night air. I can see sunrises so incredible they bring a tear to your eye. All because of the pleasure of a homegrown tomato sandwich. 

Now, what should be on a tomato sandwich is a highly debated and a much studied subject. Universally, I think kale is ruled out. Fancy lettuces of any kind, in my opinion, should be left off too. In my mind, the sandwich should be constructed as follows:

Sunbeam Giant bread (a better option could be homemade bread, if available).

Duke’s mayonnaise. The flavor of the deep south right here and the pride of South Carolina. No Miracle Whip should ever come close to a good tomato. 

Homegrown tomato. Now, I love those yellow tomatoes. My wife grew these last year and is growing them again this year. The flavor is amazing! Also, they’re lower in acidity than red tomatoes. But any good homegrown tomato is acceptable. 

Accessories — bacon, salt and pepper, the love of God and all things Southern. That’s it. 

Remember beauty lies in simplicity here. 

This is best eaten over a kitchen sink or sitting in a rocking chair on a porch with a ceiling fan turning slowly overhead. The juices of the tomato will ooze out, mix with the Duke’s mayo, and the soft, quickly disappearing bread. The sandwich, if made and eaten properly, will end up on your shirt, in your beard, and leave you only wondering if you can make another. Deep down we all know if no one sees you eat that secret sandwich, it doesn’t have any calories.

There is perhaps not another sandwich to which a devotion so deep runs. I know each and every one of us has a preference here. Honestly, I don’t blame you. It’s a passion of southerners to argue the points of a fine tomato sandwich and the SEC dominance over the years. Like the fabled Bear Bryant and Wally Butts, this simple sandwich lives forever in legend.