Chandos Deli is a local chain, selling bread, pastries and sandwiches, as well as an increasing range of high-cost, independently-sourced chocolates and similar items. Appealing to wealthy Bristolians and well-off students, Chandos sell their delicious wares at prices beyond the daily means of mere mortals. Perhaps we’ve got used to the extortionate cost of a supermarket sandwich, but £2.75 is not a price I’m prepared to pay more than once a month or so.
That said, they do make extremely tasty sandwiches, and it’s obvious from the moment you see the packaging that this is a class act. A brown cardboard prism (shiny white laminate on the inside, to guard against absorption), the box has a small plastic window to let you see what you’re buying. The white and green label is an exercise in studied minimalism: it communicates the important information—kind of sandwich, ingredients, price and the Chandos name—without any of the visual clutter that characterises most sandwich packaging.
The range of sandwiches they offer makes it clear that this is not a product without pretension; my personal favourite is probably the plainest of the lot, Beef & Dijon Mustard. It used to be Beef & Horseradish, which to my mind was over the top; the milder mustard flavour doesn’t smother the rest of the sandwich the way the horseradish used to.
What allows Chandos to charge their exorbitant prices is the superb ingredients. Their beef is tender, the lettuce tastes like real lettuce (probably from a local farm), and the bread is delicious, cut from a wholemeal loaf laced with poppy and sunflower seeds. I love bread with bits in, with a varied texture and the range of flavours you get from seeds and nuts; I love the crunch of sunflower seeds or walnut pieces. How people can live on pseudo-bread like Hovis is beyond me, let alone this apparent preference for white bread. Give me wholemeal any day! In truth, I’m just lucky: brought up on home-made bread, I know bread, understand the process, have an attachment to and associations with it.
Being separated from the means of production (as Marx would have it) is, I think, somewhat dehumanising. It removes an important connection to the world—to who we are. Breadmaking is a defining characteristic of human civilisation: we have done it for tens of thousands of years. Nations and cultures are defined by their bread, and we are all the poorer for allowing the chauvinism of the supermarkets to overwhelm us.
1 response
Good sandwiches.
Il Panino Italiano a bright yellow italian deli in soho, in a side street next to the stage door of the Gielgud theatre. Totally authentic, which leads to some translation problems ordering, but all is forgotten when a big toasted ciabatta (none of this soft white pre-made baguette rubbish you see passing for paninis in 95% of cafes these days) with sundried tomatoes, provolone, salami, mixed salad and olive oil, (dripping over your arm) stunning.
Le Petit Pain, St Clements, Oxford. No nonsense here. Big baguettes, no skimping on fillings, huge slices of ham and tasty brie. Instant happiness and fulfilment. Take it to South Park (a minute’s walk away) and eat it on the grass in the sunshine. Or walk into town past magdalen college munching away.
The Terrace, Kingston (surrey, not jamaica or canada)
Down near borders, and usually found with a huge queue. Nice seating and cute waitresses would be enough, but enormous range of sandwiches, well thought out filling combinations, loads of great home made fresh stuff, from soups to juices and smoothies makes this the only place to eat in kingston. The only way to cope with the mass kingston-shopping-crowd stress. New York Deli with onion relish, Chicken Escalope with melted cheese, Smoked Salmon with lemon and cracked black pepper. Attention to detail matters, another place that doesn’t skimp on portions.
Angelo’s, Twickenham.
Insanely cheap yet better than almost everywhere nearby. Everyone knows it. Everyone loves it.
Alianti, Richmond.
Next to the lion and the unicorn bookshop. Unassuming, but with great specialised and original fillings. Turkey, mushroom, garlic and spinach is a favourite. Jules’ likes the crab mayo. Take it down to the green with a coffee. MMmmm.
bluevorlon April 23rd, 2005