OK, first things first: if it’s on a bun, it’s not a club.
If it’s in a wrap, it’s not a club.
If it has an entire chicken breast, in a single piece, in it, it is not a club.
If it doesn’t have three (not two, not four, five is right out) pieces of toast, it’s not a club.
Let me explain the One True Way To Build A Club Sandwich:
There are three pieces of white toast. ((You may substitute interesting white breads, like sourdough or foccacia, if you must. If you use some kind of healthier bread, you are making a mistake, but it’s not a cardinal sin or anything.)) The bread must be toasted to a light brown in the center. Optionally, the bread may be lightly buttered. Note the word lightly. Note also that margarine is not butter. Obviously the outer two slices are only buttered on the inside. The inner slice, despite what you may think, should only be buttered on (at most) one side–the white meat side.
On one side of the club, there should be lettuce ((iceberg lettuce, not baby spinach or any such frippery)) and the white meat. The white meat should be relatively thinly sliced–not deli thin, but you know, you don’t want just a mouthful of fowl when you bite into the sandwich–breast of turkey, or less preferably chicken. The meat should be moist. If you must have mayo ((People of good conscience can disagree on this point, giving rise to the traditional “mayo on the side” presentation.)), it should be on the bread that touches the meat and not the bread that touches the lettuce. Mayo is only required when the white meat is too dry, and should never be more than a schmear.
On the other side of the club, there should be tomato and bacon. The tomato should be ripe, and sliced in slices one half the thickness of the bread slices you are using. The tomato should overlap as little as possible while still covering the entire toast area. The bacon should be crisp enough that you can bite into it without chewing or pulling, but not so crisp that it shatters when you bit into it. The bacon should, ideally, be as flat as possible, and arranged to cover the entire area of the toast. One layer of bacon is sufficient, but sometimes it’s nice to have two layers. There should never be mayo on the bacon/tomato side of the sandwich.
Optionally, a thin slice of cheddar cheese ((not edible oil products or “processed cheese food”, damn it, CHEDDAR)) may be inserted between the bacon on the toast. The cheese, if used, should cover the entire area, and should be slightly melted by contact with the hot bacon. The cheddar should be at least “old”, but not so ancient that it is impossible to slice without crumbling.
Other than the fact that the white meat & lettuce are on one side, and bacon & tomato (& cheese) are on the other, the specific order does not matter. There is no “top” or “bottom” requirement, or need to align particular ingredients with the interior bread slice.
The sandwich should be cut into four parts, using crossed diagonal lines. This allows the sandwich to be presented as four triangular sections, presented point up. Obviously this also necessitates the use of toothpicks. Depending on the size and shape of the plate, the four pieces can be arranged in various ways. The iconic presentation is on an oval platter, with the four triangles arranged in an arc, with the remainder of the plate being filled with the starch, and a small paper cup of nasty coleslaw ((also, in certain French Canadian chicken franchises with a lovely cup of liquid MSG which will be laughingly referred to as “barbecue sauce”.)), but there is also a large lobby for the “outer triangles point out, inner triangles point up” school, which is fine. Cut in half is not an acceptable option.
That is all.
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