Sandwiches: A Definitive (and Delicious) Guide to the Age-Old Debate

Ah, the humble sandwich. It’s the unassuming culinary hero of lunchboxes, road trips, and desperate midnight snacks. But the world of sandwiches isn’t as simple as bread with stuff in between. Oh no. This gastronomic enigma has sparked debates more heated than a panini press.

Case in point: a recent conversation with a coworker that began innocently enough—talking about what makes a sandwich truly great. We laughed about the glory of a perfectly melted grilled cheese, debated the superiority of hoagies over subs, and waxed poetic about the crisp perfection of a BLT. But as often happens with office banter, things took a serious turn when someone uttered the words: Is a hotdog a sandwich?

Cue the gasps. Opinions flew like mustard squirting out of a squeeze bottle. But for me, the answer was as clear as ketchup on a sunny picnic day. Spoiler alert: a hotdog is a sandwich. And I will die on this hill. Let’s dive into the bread-and-butter of defining sandwiches and settle this once and for all.

The Universal Definition: Bread + Fillings = Sandwich

At its core, a sandwich is a combination of bread and fillings otherwise difficult to consume on their own without being a mess, too hot to hold, or just plain impractical. Think about it: the bread acts as a utensil, a plate, and sometimes even a napkin. Without bread, you’re just some sad person juggling loose slices of turkey or burning your fingers on a hot sausage. Sandwiches exist to save us from chaos.

But within this overarching definition lies an array of sandwich subcategories that often confuse the uninitiated. To tackle this with some semblance of order, I propose a simple system of classification. Behold: The Sandwich Taxonomy. 

1. The Sliced Bread Sandwich

Let’s start with the classics. The sliced bread sandwich is the OG, the one you picture when someone says “Hey, wanna split a sandwich?” It’s defined as any combination of two pieces of bread sliced vertically from a loaf, sandwiching a filling.

Examples:

Grilled Cheese: Gooey, melted cheese cradled between slices of bread that have been lovingly toasted in butter. A masterpiece.Peanut Butter and Jelly: Childhood nostalgia slapped between two slices of white bread.BLT: A perfect harmony of bacon, lettuce, and tomato, proving once again that bacon makes everything better.

Regardless of the bread—white, wheat, rye, sourdough—if it came from a loaf and got sliced, you’re dealing with this first category. Open-faced sandwiches could be considered a subcategory. These rebellious creations forego the top slice, opting instead for a single foundation to showcase their fillings. Consider the smørrebrød of Denmark, an artful display of pickled herring or roast beef atop dense rye bread, or a hearty Welsh rarebit, smothered in molten cheese and ale sauce. These are sandwiches that let their toppings steal the spotlight, proving that less bread can sometimes be more. Sure, they’re unconventional, but let’s not split (bread) hairs here. As chef René Redzepi has said about smørrebrød, “Each slice tells a story.” Open-bread sandwiches are a canvas for culinary creativity.

To bolster this point, even Gordon Ramsay has acknowledged the beauty of simplicity in a classic sandwich. As he once said, “Good bread and good butter, that’s where it starts.” The versatility of the sliced bread sandwich ensures it remains a staple in kitchens worldwide.

2. The Sliced Roll Sandwich

Next up, we’ve got the sliced roll sandwich. This one is for the sandwich architecture enthusiasts who appreciate their bread in cylindrical form. A roll—partially or fully sliced—is the bread base here, cradling the filling like a carb-based sleeping bag.

Examples:

Hoagies/Subs: These sandwiches are like the luxury yachts of the lunch world, often stuffed to the brim with deli meats, cheeses, lettuce, and tomato. Bonus points if it’s dripping with oil and vinegar.Hotdogs: Yes, you read that right. A hotdog is a sandwich. It’s meat in a sliced roll with condiments. Case closed.Lobster Rolls: A bougie contender that showcases just how fancy mayonnaise and shellfish can get.

Hotdogs, in particular, are the most controversial member of this category. Some argue they’re their own thing entirely, but honestly, what’s the difference between a hotdog and a meatball sub? Size? Shape? The fact that one might come with relish? Let’s not be bread bigots here. Even the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council (yes, that’s a thing) begrudgingly admits that hotdogs could technically fit the sandwich definition.

As Bobby Flay once quipped, “If it’s in bread, you eat it with your hands, and it’s delicious—who cares what you call it?” Let’s embrace inclusivity, people.

3. The Wrap

Ah, the wrap: the sandwich’s trendy cousin who refuses to fit in the loaf-shaped box. A wrap involves flatbread—whether it’s a tortilla, pita, or lavash—folded or rolled around a filling. It’s the portable, customizable darling of health-conscious lunch-goers and taco lovers alike.

Examples:

Burritos: Mexican food’s gift to humanity. Stuffed with rice, beans, meat, and salsa, these wraps redefine what it means to be a sandwich.Gyros: Mediterranean perfection, with spiced meat, fresh veggies, and creamy tzatziki sauce all cozied up in a pita.Tacos: Yes, tacos are sandwiches. A tortilla is just a flatter, more flexible piece of bread. Come at me.

Wraps embody versatility. They’re easy to eat, they don’t drip (much), and they’re ideal for on-the-go meals. Plus, they’re inclusive, inviting fillings from cuisines all around the world. In fact, culinary historian Rachel Laudan once pointed out that flatbreads have been used for millennia to encase fillings—a precursor to the modern sandwich in many ways.

Addressing the ControversiesBut what about burgers?

A burger is absolutely a sandwich. It’s literally a meat patty between bread. Just because it has its own section on the menu doesn’t mean it gets a special pass. If anything, it’s a superstar of the sliced roll category. Even Anthony Bourdain, the late culinary legend, praised burgers as “the ultimate expression of sandwich-making.”

What about open-faced sandwiches?

Open-faced sandwiches are like a rebellious teenager who refuses to conform. Sure, they’re missing a top layer of bread, but they still fit the sandwich definition: bread + fillings. Think avocado toast, a dish that’s elevated millions of Instagram feeds while simultaneously bankrupting millennials.

What if you grill use a Panini press?

Any adaptations or specializations you may apply to a sandwich don’t necessarily change it categorically. A panini is a sliced bread sammich, a Croque Monsieur/Madame: The French cousin, with béchamel and cheese broiled to golden perfection (Add an egg on top, and voilà, it’s a Croque Madame) is still at its core a sliced bread sandwich. 

What about a stuffed roll?

Okay, there may be some grey area here, but still it’s a variation on the sliced roll sandwich. If the food item has been baked with the stuffing inside, such as a midwestern Runza, then it is not a sandwich, it is a pastry. Just look at one of those delicious concoctions, with its flaky bread, and incased contents; it becomes clear it is different from a sandwich, regardless of its savory nature. In the case of a French Banh mis, where a baguette is hollowed out to be filled with meat or other tasty foodstuffs, despite the absence of a slicing action, I think this would still fall safely under the umbrella of the sliced roll sandwich. It is a singular baked bread item, altered to allow filling to be inserted for sandwichy consumption. 

What about a calzone?

A calzone isn’t a sandwich. Why? Both calzones and pizzas involve a preparation method that uses uncooked dough, layered with ingredients, and then baked together as a unified dish. This process is what defines them as pizzas or calzones, not sandwiches. While a sandwich may occasionally be toasted or grilled, it doesn’t involve this fundamental construction of cooking the bread and fillings together from scratch. A calzone is simply a pizza folded in on itself, and let’s not get ridiculous by trying to stretch the definition.

Are ice cream sandwiches… sandwiches?

Oh, now we’re playing dirty. Technically, yes. The sandwich taxonomy doesn’t discriminate based on temperature or dessert status. If it’s a filling between two layers of bread, it qualifies. But, most ice cream sandwiches do not use bread as their stabilizers. They use cookies, or wafers. So let’s then make the clear distinction: the word sandwich can be used to mean anything that is pressed between something else; I could sandwich my car between two huge SUV’s at the grocery store parking lot. But that does not make it a sandwich. In this case, the ice cream sandwich is sandwiched, but not a sandwich. 

Why This Matters

You may be thinking, “Why should I care about defining sandwiches?” But let me tell you, this isn’t just semantics. It’s about creating a universal understanding that bridges divides. If we can all agree that a hotdog is a sandwich, who knows what else we can accomplish? World peace? Universal healthcare? The possibilities are endless.

Besides, when you’re arguing with your coworker at the lunch table, don’t you want to be armed with the ultimate defense? Now you can smugly state that your definition of a sandwich is backed by logic, history, and possibly a tiny bit of madness. After all, food brings people together—or at least gives them something to argue about.

So, the next time someone asks, “Is a hotdog a sandwich?” you can confidently say, “Yes, it is. And here’s why.” Sandwiches, in all their forms, are the great equalizer. Whether it’s a grilled cheese on white bread, a hotdog in a roll, or a burrito wrapped in a tortilla, sandwiches make life better, one bite at a time.

Now, go forth and spread the gospel of sandwiches. And if anyone disagrees? Well, they’re just full of bologna.