Sweaty, gritty and perfect just the way it is.
The other week at Corsair Bay, mere hours before a putrid drain dribble with an “ungodly, heavy smell” closed the entire beach, Cantabrian beachgoers were noshing like crazy. A trio of ladies in camping chairs were chomping down a bag of chicken chips and discussing the most challenging body parts to immerse in cold water (“nipples, tummy, and you know the last one”), teens in big jeans drank even bigger cans of Arizona iced tea, and delighted little girls inspected a rainbow pack of iced mini-donuts like they were rare diamonds.
Each culinary option was more delectable than the last, but I knew I had something sweating in the cooler bag that trumped them all. A sandwich, crafted by my own fair hand, that was soon to send me into a Jon-Hamm-on-the-dancefloor, Ratatouille-post-cheese-and-strawberry state of absolute rapture. I’m talking sun-warmed seedy bread slathered in butter. I’m talking creamy soft camembert, along with crunchy fresh lettuce and succulent salted tomatoes that leave juice dripping down your wrists like something from an ungodly Emerald Fennell trailer.
Here are all the reasons the simple beach sandwich is the perfect summer bite, with additional commentary from The Spinoff’s haters and enthusiasts.
The temperature
The beach is nature’s convection oven, with the searing sun cooking the sandwich from above and the surrounding hot, moist air gently poaching it from every angle. While beach sandwich naysayer Hayden Donnell decried the “maniacs” who enjoy a meal of “warm bread and half steamed ham”, I believe the sweaty conditions are perfect and impossible to replicate anywhere else. Let your sandwich go full Sheryl Crow and soak up the sun, ideally until things get slightly soggy and the cheese turns just a little translucent. That’s Science Alive (RIP), that’s dinner and a show, and that’s a bloody delicious bite. (If you are a “cool side of the pillow” type, whack your sarnie on an ice pack in your cooler bag and enjoy a crisper and chilled-down experience).
The ingredients
The beach sandwich coincides with an abundant time of year when the ingredients in your house might be a bit flashier than your usual. I’m talking slices of leftover Christmas ham, unopened brie that didn’t quite make the New Year’s cheeseboard, weird novelty peanut butter you might have won in your family’s vicious secret Santa scrap. You might be lucky enough to find yourself in the possession of a funky chutney from a family member, fresh foraged seafood, or even a home-baked loaf as cottagecore New Year’s resolutions take hold.
If you’ve got a vege patch, it’s a huge moment for lettuce, tomato and cucumbers. You’ll also find beetroot nearing its peak, an ingredient which Anna Rawhiti-Connell is deeply passionate about in this context. “Beetroot is an elite filling, especially with ham, coleslaw, egg and sprouts, but tricky as it makes sandwiches soggy and bleeds everywhere,” she says. “The beetroot beach sandwich is the only place I tolerate its soggy and bleedy characteristics because a) I made it b) I worked hard for it, and c) I carried it, as our ancestors carried bison on their backs.”
The location
You’re at the beach! The greatest place on Earth! Unless you have stumbled upon M. Night Shyamalan’s beach which makes everyone old really fast! In which case, enjoy your perfect last meal: a delicious beach sandwich! I often think about this presentation Saraid de Silva made at the Word festival about the ideal locations to consume certain foods (eg a handful of almonds eaten barefoot on a hardwood floor) and beach + sandwich has got to be right up there with a pie + car, or a cucumber sandwich + funeral. Swimming at the beach also unlocks an entirely new, deeply primal depth of hunger which is also impossible to experience at any other location. As Liam Rātana put it: “Ain’t nothing that hits like a post-swim sandwich.”
(Nature warning: please stay vigilant around your beach sandwich in the presence of airborne scavengers. “I no longer eat sarnies at the beach after the world’s largest seagull swooped me and abducted my sandwich in 2024,” said Claire Mabey in a brave exclusive testimony.)
The price point
I’m no economist but it is my understanding that everything costs an estimated four hundred million dollars right now. Packing your own sandwiches (cheap) and heading to the beach (free) is an extremely cost-effective way to have a really nice time, even if it does mean shocking your nearest and dearest. “A few years back, I was trying to save cash and packed the whole family sandwiches for a day out in the sun,” said The Spinoff’s editor Veronica Schmidt. “I was pretty proud of my frugality and classic cheese, tomato and ham combination, until my husband bit into his sandwich, fake smiled and said, ‘Mmmm. Tastes like savings’.”
The secret seasoning
With salt wafting through the air and encrusted around your lips, there’s an obvious natural saline flavour boost that occurs at the beach – but that’s not what I’m talking about here. The final element to the perfect beach sandwich is something that adds a thrilling bit of Noma ant grit to the mouthfeel, and you never know quite how much you are going to get. Call me René Redzepi, but you just can’t have a perfect beach sandwich without a little sand.
