As of now, there is no Guinness World Record for sandwich with the most ridiculous number of fillings—at least none I could find—but I wonder about those kinds of limits as I scan Seattle menus these days, looking at the occasional sandwich creation with a combination of ingredients so daunting that I want to hide under my bed with a roll of Tums. Can there ever be too much party in your sandwich?
It’s not that I fear all types of abundance. Bless those Italian American sub shops with their endless list of cured meats and cheeses you can stuff into a hero roll in endless variations—mortadella, prosciutto, sopressata, hot capicola, sweet capicola. Who knew there were so many damn capicolas? Or magical New York Jewish delis with that pile of pastrami delicately balanced between two slices of rye. Too much at once? Whatever: second sandwich.