Groucho Marx famously said, "I don't want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member." Fortunately, the club sandwich imposes few rules, minimal dues, and no restrictions on belonging. James Villas, the redoubtable food critic of this magazine for 27 years, called it "the quintessential American dish." It is, indeed, democracy in action: a staple of the neighborhood diner, the local country club, the five-star resort. (It is virtually synonymous with room service.) Like other invasive American species — cocktails, jazz, gray squirrels — it has gone forth in the world, where it continues to multiply. Wallis Simpson made it for Prince Edward, prompting enduring British ardor. The Grand Hyatt in Melbourne, Australia, has been said to turn out 9,000 a year. Le Figaro subjected the "meilleurs club sandwichs" of Paris to rigorous tests not long ago, declaring the specimen at Le Meurice the victor.
Theories about its origin abound. The 1903 novel Conversations of a Chorus Girl? The Saratoga Club in 1894? The Pennsylvania Railroad, because the sandwich's double-decker design emulated the passenger club cars? The "original" recipe remains equally elusive, although no less an authority than James Beard insisted on chicken breast (which, in martini terms, is gin to turkey's vodka), bacon, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and toast, the general outline that persists to this day and nicely allows for endless invention, from lobster clubs to the foie gras club at the Restaurant Guy Savoy in Las Vegas. One of the most intriguing early recipes for the club sandwich appeared in 1907 in the New York Times: "Go to the club. Drink six toasts. Eat a slice of meat. Drink six more toasts."
Five years later, the Beverly Hills Hotel opened its doors. According to the current chef at the establishment, Kaleo Adams, the club sandwich "has always been on the menu. People have been eating clubs here for a hundred years." Adams says the sandwich claims a good quarter of the business poolside at the Cabana Café,where one may add avocado to create one of the finest California club sandwiches ever served: three pieces of toasted white from La Brea Bakery, turkey breast from Willie Bird in Sonoma, applewood-smoked bacon from Hobbs' Smoked Meats in the Bay Area, local Bibb lettuce and tomatoes, a slice or two of gruyère, and a light aioli for moisture, the entirety of which is cut into quarters and secured with frilled toothpicks or bamboo skewers. Enjoy with pickle, chips, fries, salad, fruit, or onion rings; Coke or iced tea; a copy of Variety; and pure California sunshine.
Above: Waiter Felix Olmedo serves a towering club sandwich at the Beverly Hills Hotel, which is celebrating its centennial this year.
