It was approaching one in the morning as my friend and I scoured the near-empty Denver airport for a place to eat. Neither of us was a big fan of America’s soulless corporate obsession with fast-food restaurant chains. But desperation encroached on our hungry stomachs as we passed more and more boarded-up storefronts. Finally, when it looked like we might have to survive on old saltines, the dim light of a dingy Subway sandwich shop caught my eye. 

“How about there?” I pointed to the flickering store. My suitcase careened on one wheel as I came to an abrupt stop. My friend looked reluctant. I couldn’t blame them; on a given day, the quality of a Subway sandwich could range from soggy-meat-bread quagmire to reasonably toasted bread with some fillings. Not to mention, both of us had dietary restrictions. 

After a sidelong glance at their watch, they sighed and agreed. We both lethargically wheeled our suitcases to the dilapidated shop. They settled on ordering a toasted mozzarella tomato sub while I opted for a build-your-own experiment. After our order, we sat at a square table, slowly munching away at our sandwiches under the dull yellow light. A question popped into my mind as I encountered my first mouthful of misplaced onion sauce. Sandwich shops exist everywhere. But who was the first person to make a sandwich?

There’s no real way to categorize every existing and yet-to-exist sandwich, although I implore modern mathematicians to try. The contemporary sandwich, like the universe, is infinite. To fully understand the vastness of the sandwich, we must first settle on its definition. For sanity’s sake, I will not clarify if a hot dog is a sandwich. I am only including grilled cheese proportioned sandwiches in the scope of my analysis—two slices of bread (not merged) with something in between. Approximately one-half (47%) of American adults eat a sandwich per day. So, where did the sandwich come from?

It is generally accepted that the story of the sandwich begins in England with John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich. According to accounts at the time, John Montagu, the 4th, was known as a “profligate gambler,” frequently engaging in bouts of hedonistic merriment. The inciting incident of the sandwich allegedly occurred when Montagu the 4th refused to leave the gambling table to eat, instead requesting a serving of roast beef between two slices of bread. Some historians have beef with this interpretation, citing it as apocryphal. A frequenter of London High Society, it’s more likely that Montagu the 4th popularized the sandwich by requesting it in those circles. But what about the word itself? 

Edward Gibbon, the author of The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, is credited with being the first person to document the word sandwich in his journal. When this journal entry was written, Montagu the 4th was immersed in London’s social scene, likely helping Gibbon catch wind of the sandwich. The word sandwich first appeared in a recipe in Charlotte Mason’s The Lady’s assistant for regulating and supplying her table: Being a Complete System of Cookery, Containing One Hundred and Fifty Select Bills of Fare (1773). Believe it or not, that’s the shortened title. But John Montagu the 4th doesn’t predate bread or beef. While he is widely credited with popularizing the sandwich, the real existence of sandwiches predates 18th-century England. If Montagu the 4th was the first to popularize the sandwich, who was the first to invent other kinds of sandwiches? To answer that question, we must go back a little further, to ancient times. More specifically, Ancient Rome. 

When we think of Ancient Rome, we often think of tyrannical emperors, gladiator arenas, and sponges affixed to sticks. But the Romans did more for us than popularize indoor plumbing. The ancient text Apicius (considered one of the oldest documented cookbooks) details a recipe called ‘Isicia Omentata’ made of minced meat, a fish sauce known as ‘garum,’ pepper, wine,  and pine nuts, all formed into a patty. Now we know what really sliced the Roman Empire in half. 

We have all these documented sandwich connoisseurs and experimentalists throughout history. Yet to know who the first person was to enjoy a sandwich, we need to go back even further, to 110 bce, a year of the pre-Julian Roman calendar. Before Rome popularized the burger, the earliest recognizable form of sandwich was likely the Korech or “Hillel” sandwich. Hillel the Elder, a Jewish leader and Rabbi who lived in Jerusalem during the reign of King Herod, suggested sandwiching bitter herbs inside unleavened matzo bread. The existence of Hillel’s combination indicates the sandwich was likely already a popular dish across the Middle East. 

Sandwiches first appeared in American cookbooks in 1816, fifty-four years after John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich. By the 19th century, sandwiches expanded to accommodate a larger palette. Rather than being limited to meats, sandwiches included a variety of cheeses, fruits, shellfish, nuts, mushrooms, and vegetables.  Back in the dingy airport Subway shop, my friend and I finished our last bites of mushy bread and stale chips. I stuffed my sandwich paper in an already overflowing trash bin, my mind still spinning with the sandwich Wiping off our sauce-covered fingers on some weirdly textured napkins, we left to catch the last shuttle bus. If it weren’t for that lackluster meal, I never would’ve thought to research the birthplace of the sandwich. The impact of the sandwich is undeniable; its roots can be traced back to all corners of the world; it reflects a nation’s history, culinary traditions, and evolving tastes. So, like I did, next time you order a sandwich during your lunch break, think about its origins. After all, it might be ancient!!