In a pickle over choice of my sandwich filling W

COFFEE bar culture is having a revival, I said last week. And ever since, I’ve been remembering my own experiences.

As a teenager, I was an habitué of the Cat’s Whiskers in Sale on the outskirts of Manchester.

Too small for live music, but a good jukebox and good company, conversation, opportunity for flirtation and, if you were feeling flush, a very good Spanish omelette.

The coffee bar was our scene, as opposed to the nicotine stained rooms of ancient pubs whose interiors and patrons didn’t seem to have changed since Mafeking had been relieved. (Straight down the corridor, first on the left). It was a place for bohemians, beatniks, fans of jazz, skiffle, rock and roll and rhythm ‘n blues: basically young people escaping adult condescension.

My mate Dave and I, on a trip to London in the late 1950s, made a pilgrimage to the 2i’s in Soho where Brit rock stars were discovered by the coach-load. Unfortunately, the only star in that day was Wee Willie Harris, who served us coffee and insisted on playing his own record on the jukebox at thruppence a throw and five for a shilling (5p).

We were sadly not discovered and went on to have a much better time at Ronnie Scott’s. I have drunk coffee around the world but my oddest experience was being served by two attractive young ladies at a drive-though coffee shack on HEN the Examiner office was based in town, editorial staff used the Market Hall sandwich makers for mid-morning snacks or lunch.

The Merry England for a roast beef and onion, or Mason’s for a variety of traditional sandwiches, from ham salad to dripping teacake, which sports journalist Dougie Thompson would describe as “a heart attack between two slices of bread”. It didn’t stop us buying them though.

We have been a nation of handheld sustenance ever since Lord Sandwich gave his name to it in the 18th century because, it is reputed, it meant he could eat without leaving the gaming table. Generations have since followed his example with sandwiches being consumed at office desks, during work breaks, on picnics and at home in front of the telly.

The British Sandwich Association (yes, there really is one) says we spend £8 billion a year on takeaway sandwiches. That’s four billion from supermarkets and cafes.

Warburton’s the bread maker, say customers are these days opting for something other than the traditional. Popular are chicken and avocado, brie and grape, pulled pork, and falafel and hummus.

Director Darren Littler said: “It’s interesting to see the fillings that fall in and out of favour in line with trends. With a vastly increased choice the West Coast of America.

One wore stockings and lingerie and the other a Seattle Seahawks football outfit with shoulder pads and little else. Topless or scantily clad baristas were launched in the Seattle area, home of Starbucks, about a decade ago.

I, of course, visited purely in the interests of research. The girls were friendly, liked my English accent, and I didn’t know where to look as they prepared my cappuccino.

The coffee was good and the tip jar overflowing. Bikini baristas – hosted by both men and women – at drive-through coffee shacks remain popular and do good business in that part of America. Somehow I don’t think the idea will ever catch on in Yorkshire. compared to years gone by, more adventurous fillings are the order of the day for many.”

Falafel and hummus? I’ve only just got used to garlic bread.

The exotic does not appeal to me and I can’t understand the attraction of pulled anything, although I am not a stick in the mud.

I actually had a cheese and pickle on white the other day because there was nothing else available. I had never had pickle on cheese before.

What a sad life, you may say. But let me tell you I have been known to throw myself into the wild side of epicurean experience. Thirty years ago, I wrestled with a cajun chicken sandwich in America that was so delicious I forgot the rules of etiquette and needed a full body wash before I left the restaurant.

The sandwich range has expanded with wraps, different types of European breads and the American submarine, in which a long roll is split and may be filled with every conceivable ingredient.

Me? I’ll stick to a ham salad on brown.