Jenny Hendrix, who writes for the New Yorker's Book Bench blog, has a very funny post on "literary sandwiches":
Last week, a menu made the rounds in our office from a restaurant specializing in author-themed sandwiches, such as the Hemingway (filet mignon on a toasted bun with steak fries) and the Henry Miller (hot pastrami and melted Swiss, served only after noon). The restaurant in question is, alas, in California, but the menu left our collective stomach rumbling, and we determined to create our own, if slightly more fanciful, list of literary fare. As always, we'd love to hear your suggestions below....
The Miss Lonelyhearts: one slice of plain white bread with heart of palm....
The Nora Roberts: all cheese.
The Dave Eggers: a broken, runny egg on staggeringly thick bread; served with a guide to its enjoyment.
The Thomas Pynchon: no one really knows....
Lady Cheddarley’s Lover: a controversial abundance of melted cheddar and several unprintable ingredients....
The Animal Farm: supposed to include a variety of meats in equal parts; in practice, though, mostly ham.
It got me thinking about the culinary possibilities behind my own novel. After many long hours laboring in the Minotaur Books test kitchen, I emerged with the following recipe:
The Poacher's Sonwich: a grilled deer meat patty on day-old Wonderbread, topped with a poached egg.