As you may have noticed, Tour de Hamdel has been on hiatus for the last few months. Not to reveal my secret routines, but I used to eat Hamdel every Tuesday after my run, but then I hurt my leg and my routine changed—it wasn’t Hamdel, it was me. Now, however, I intend to resume the Tour de Hamdel in full force. For a refresher course on this illustrious Columbia tradition, click here.
Sometime in November, or maybe it was late October—time tends to run together when tracking the etiology of deli sandwiches—Hamdel debuted a new named sandwich, the Betsy. Although I could have simply asked the Hamdel cooks after whom they named the sandwich, I prefer to speculate on this individual’s identity. Sadly, the Betsy tastes terrible. I imagine that its namesake is a perfectly dreadful person, though in all fairness, maybe the Hamdel cooks just secretly loathed her. The sandwich consists of chicken cutlet, avocado, and cheddar cheese, a banal, tepid combination.
In a beige cafeteria somewhere in mid-America, desperate housewives drown their sorrows in Betsy sandwiches, blandly meaningless calories. Masquerading as health food—avocado!—the Betsy actually tastes like grease and grave dust, ash and artery-clogging oil. After three bites, I want the sandwich to end, I want my time with Betsy/the Betsy to cease immediately, to never meet this unfortunate person/sandwich again.
Of course, an inherent risk accompanies the named sandwich—that a poorly conceived concoction will reflect poorly on the titular personage. After consuming this sandwich, my Hamdel preference quickly switched to the “Egg on a Roll,” a sublimely cheesy, chewy breakfast option suitable for any meal.
Obviously, I would not order the Betsy again. Perhaps, the memory of that abomination will fade with time.
Next: the Jaws (fish fillet, American cheese, lettuce, tomato, and tartar sauce).