I mean you have the standards...

ham, roast beef, turkey, salami, bologna.

you also have peanut butter and jelly

then there is the tuna salad

then at the bottom of my list would be olive loaf or...ugh!!....head cheese

Well I would say head cheese would be the sandwich of rap while the olive loaf would be disco.

 bologna I think fits in with your pop artists who are full of sh#t, while peanut butter and jelly would be your boy bands.

Personally I think the progressive sandwich is the tuna salad...you usually don't take well to it as a kid, but it grows on ya and eventually it's uniqueness to the other sandwiches stands out as a cut above the rest.

What do you think on this mind bending thread

I'm hungry

Reed Lover wrote: I think you must be a bologna sandwich!

You don't like my thread...I thought this is a thread you could really sink your teeth into...

get it, get it!!

I don't like Tuna.  A prog sandwich hmmm.  Steak, Cheese and onions.  The cholesteral special please!

Ham & cheese..

on brown

As long as the sandwich is strange, complicated, and a little difficult to eat at first, I think it can be made of almost anything. It doesn't hurt if the sandwich maker is on drugs, either.

Jethro Tull: roast pheasant on homemade whole-grain with goat cheese. Although later sandwiches may have significant additives.

ELP: surprisingly few ingredients, but a complex taste. You may need to remove some of the cheese first.

Pink Floyd: dude, just throw in whatever's leftover in the fridge- I'm sooo hungry right now!

Yes: turkey on wheat bread, and possibly some sprouts. Don't get too attached to any given ingredient, though...

King Crimson: even worse than Yes, you never can be sure what you'll get in it. It will be yummy, though, and require a lot of chewing.

Frank Zappa: Hummus on Pita with a smoky gouda and some television parts.

Anglagard: kinda like the above, but a little fresher.

oh, now I get it...you Brits call them 'sarnies'

learn something new every day...

Rush – triple decker, initially palatable but somewhat derivative, exceptionally satisfying middle layer, followed by an increasingly undigestible finale

Kansas – Interesting first impression, though slightly too wheaty, with a distinct tang of hayseeds. Matures gracefully before rapidly mutating in it’s finish to the unleavened bread of the blessed, which leaves it alienating the masses and appealing only to the fervent few.

Yes: take four hundred slices of bread, discard some, then bring them back, chew a little, discard again, import some French bread, get rid of that, bring the old bread back again but lose it and another slice, hire some bread that’s almost the same as the old bread, decide its not the same and give up. Separate all the bread and let them make their own sandwiches. Get bored, decide to try again from scratch. Change 80 percent of the bread, hit paydirt with new bread, but decide new bread is not being true to old bread’s original texture, seek out all the old bread, leave to moulder and voila – the ultimate Yes sandwich!

Of course, it’s a recipe that could be given extra spice by the addition of a lamb biriani and a vodka mid-sandwich.

Krautrock: By as many loaves of bread you feel necessary and scream at them for 12 years. Insist it's not really a sandwich but an anarcho-radicalist statement on the state of 20th century bread.

Pink Floyd: Take five slices of bread. Discard the one that thinks it’s a chicken. Turn up the heat, leave to simmer for 10 years before allowing it to explode.

Marillion: Use bread that pretends to be other bread. When chief slice of pretend bread leaves to form own brand of pretend sandwich, replace with other type of bread, preferably one that thinks it should be in a Pink Floyd sandwich. Keep pretending until someone mistakes pretend bread for real thing.

Led Zeppelin: Entice bread back to hotel room in Seattle. Insert fish in bread.

Genesis: Take a number of slices of bread and throw them away one by one until all that remains is a hideous child actor.

Funny stuff...especially the Krautrock...

wasn't amused about the Marillion bit though

One called Three Hams:

Prosciutto di Parma, Sweet ham and smoked ham, with some mayonese and hidroponic lettuce, just a perfect blend of three different flavours.

Iván

ivan_2068 wrote: One called Three Hams: Prosciutto di Parma, Sweet ham and smoked ham, with some mayonese and hidroponic lettuce, just a perfect blend of three different flavours. Iván

Can't you ever be serious, you big ham?