The Lasagna Sandwich

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I try to quietly accept that my aversion to most British food is just a matter of a cultural adjustment that I can’t make. Regularly, though, I’m pushed to the brink and I have to lash out at the culinary monstrosities I encounter, especially at lunchtime, which has become the most stressful time of the day for me since moving to England. As if things weren’t bad enough already at the Tesco near where I work, there’s a new contender for most soul-destroying approximation of food — the lasagna sandwich.

Now, I’m not automatically opposed to the idea of a lasagna sandwich. In fact, I’m intrigued. Until I remember this isn’t something from a great NY deli, something that involves a crusty roll and hot, fresh-made Italian food. No, this is the British take on it:

Between two thick slices of white bread, you’ll find a generous filling of diced beef in a tangy tomato and herb sauce, layered with cooked pasta sheets and finished with a creamy cheddar, ricotta and mayonnaise dressing.

I think I’m sick already. It’s bad enough that cheddar cheese is a common ingredient of Italian food here, but I’ve been trying to adapt to that. And their idea of “thick” white bread is nothing of the sort. It’s just clammy and tissue-like. The fucking mayonnaise, though! Ugh. I can’t even bear to think about it. Tesco regularly offends me (and leaves me with little to eat at lunch besides hummus and bread) with their generous use of mayonnaise on unlikely foods — cheese salads, Southern fried chicken, sushi — and it seems that this madness has no end in sight. The writer of that article about the lasagna sandwich gives a pretty good indication of what horrors lie in wait, but as he points out, there’s a market out there for even the unlikeliest concoction.

I just want a decent grilled cheese and bacon. Is that so much to ask?