While I was kicking around ideas for this week’s edition, it suddenly occurred to me that it had been a while since I added to my collection of fancy toothpicks with colored wraps on one end. And that meant only one thing: club sandwich.
It’s an American invention, the club sandwich, dating back to the late 1800s. Conflicting origin stories say that it was developed at the Union Club, a private social club in New York City, or, 180 miles north at the Saratoga Club, a private casino.
Fun fact: Most histories say that the club sandwich did not start out as a double-decker with three pieces of bread. That third slice started to show up in published recipes in 1901. The sandwich really caught on during the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis, where four vendors served their own version. Over the years, the club sandwich has become an institution, as common on fancy room-service menus as it is in corner diners.
The club sandwich poses an eating conundrum. Human mouths don’t open wide enough to take bites in any normal way. I was up for the challenge.
Our contestants are Trip’s Diner, with locations in St. Pete and Tampa, and The Burg Bar & Grill in St. Pete’s Grand Central District.
TRIP’S DINER
I’ve driven by Trip’s in St. Pete — the Tampa location is in Seminole Heights — countless times, but this was my first visit. We walked in at 5:15 Monday, and I instantly dug the vibe. The place didn’t try too hard to be a diner of yore. On the eastern side sat a small lunch counter with stools — a nostalgic touch — but the rest of the seating consisted of walled booths.
The woman at the counter greeted us cheerily and said to sit anywhere we liked. We grabbed a corner booth, and I immediately noticed how comfy the benches were. The space became our little eating outpost, cozy and private.
As I ordered our Club Sandwich ($10.99) on toasted sourdough with fries as a side, Bonnie piped up, “Eric, they have milkshakes.” She’s well aware of my weaknesses.
Our effervescent server, Jenny, chimed in, “I’ll make you one.” Sold. I ordered chocolate. ($4.99)
Appearance
The meal had all the markings of a classic club sandwich, cut in quarters and tipped sideways showing the layers of meat, cheese and veggies within. The toothpicks for my collection had red flags.
Texture and Taste
Trip’s uses thick-cut bacon, rendering it the sandwich’s predominant flavor. That’s fine with me because everything tastes better with bacon.
The bread, toasted lightly as requested, was coated with basil mayonnaisse. Swiss cheese added a touch of sharpness and red onion provided surprise moments of bitterness.
The ham, turkey, romaine lettuce and tomato blended well, making for a sandwich that was at once complex and familiar. The fries had a soft outer shell and were aggressively salted.
The chocolate shake was lovely, jazzed up by a dollop of whipped cream drizzled with chocolate syrup. The paper straw was thin, requiring more than ideal suckage. Bonnie suggested I try using two. Whoa! Radical. But it worked. After finishing my meal, I double-barrelled my way to the bottom.
THE BURG BAR & GRILL
This hole-in-the-wall — and I say that in the most affectionate way — is located just east of the I-275 overpass on Central Avenue. It’s a tiny, no-frills bar with dollar bills plastered on the walls and a reputation for serving good burgers.
As we walked across Central at 5:15 on Wednesday, a familiar skunky odor wafted from (I presumed) the balconies at the 1701 Central apartments. Some folks were eating at tables on the sidewalk. Not much was going on inside besides an older fella intently watching ESPN without the sound. That’s because The Burg was playing an excellent mix of oldies (Beatles, Beach Boys, Elton John, etc.) at moderate volume. We sat at a four-top near the door.
Carla — she of the radiant smile and trucker’s cap — took our order: Turkey Club ($11.99), plus fries ($2.50). Bonnie got a five-ounce burger ($8.99).
Appearance
Uh oh. The sandwich was held together by plain wooden skewers instead of fancy toothpicks. And … it was cut into halves instead of quarters. Was there no end to the club-sandwich rule-breaking at The Burg? Elsewhere, there was a whole lot of turkey between these slices of bread. And the fries really spoke to me.
Texture and Taste
A fistful of sandwich. Whereas the Trip’s version emphasized bacon, this one was turkey forward. In fact, while I am predisposed to thick sandwiches, this one had too much turkey (although it was good quality).
For the second half, I removed some of the turkey. That gave this beast a more balanced combo of flavors, which included avocado (more rule-breaking). All the meat, cheese and veggies were set on adroitly mayo’d Texas toast, which added to the overall heft.
I plowed through this monster — sloppily. Good thing there was a roll of paper towels on the table. I got schmutz on my mustache and beard, on my nose, even a smudge on my glasses. It all added up to — yum.
Big ups to the fries. Sliced in-house, each sliver was its own. Some were long, some were short, some were thin and crispy, some were fat and droopy. All of them were rustic and real.
I surprised myself by eating the entire meal, athough Bonnie pilfered some fries.
Which Club Sandwich Clobbered the Other?
Neither. This was a close call, but I’ll make one:
The Burg Bar & Grill.
The Trip’s sandwich was more refined and I preferred its bacon-ness. I enjoyed the atmosphere in each place. I hadn’t been to a diner or a hole-in-the-wall in a while.
And while I appreciated The Burg’s lawless approach to the club sandwich, I did deduct points for it not having fancy toothpicks.
Ultimately, the fries tilted the decision in The Burg’s favor.
A tidbit of useless information: The toothpicks in (nearly all) club sandwiches go by several names: fancy toothpick, cocktail toothpick, appetizer toothpick. But if there is an offical one, it’s this: club frill pick. Who knew?
