The first in an occasional series, “The Anatomy of a Sandwich.”

The “Memphis Po-Boy” is a popular item at Cooper-Young’s Soul Fish Café, said co-owner Raymond Williams. The sandwich features pork, barbecue sauce, bacon and cole-slaw.

(Photo: Lance Murphey)

Just think, if the Earl of Sandwich had been, say, the Earl of Glastonbury, we’d all be going around saying, “Hey, I’m really in the mood for a peanut butter and jelly glastonbury.” Glad that didn’t happen!

And actually, the legend that John Montagu, fourth Earl of Sandwich (1718-1792), called for meat to be placed between two slices of bread so he could continue at the gambling table without having to leave to eat is probably just legend. More likely, his biographers point out, is that Montagu, who served thrice as Lord of the Admiralty, simply wanted to eat at his desk, a habit that millions of office workers indulge today.

In any case, the sandwich was named and, really picking up speed through the 20th century, became one of the dominant forms of food consumption in the world. The range is enormous, mind-boggling; the concept of sandwich encompasses the delicacy of the tea-time cucumber sandwich as well as the heft and brawn of a McDonald’s Big Mac; the forthright simplicity of a grilled cheese sandwich, the bounty of a stacked-high pastrami sandwich, the outrageous luxury of Daniel Boulud’s hamburger stuffed with foie gras and braised short rib meat; the club, the sub, the Reuben and the Cuban; the BLT and BBQ; the hoagie and po’ boy (not “poor boy,” please).

Can we get legal? In November 2006, Worcester, Mass., Superior Court Judge Jeffrey A. Locke, deciding a suit brought by Panera Bread against a Mexican restaurant in a shopping mall setting, ruled that a burrito is not a sandwich. “A sandwich,” said Judge Locke, “is not commonly understood to include burritos, tacos, and quesadillas, which are typically made with a single tortilla and stuffed with a choice filling of meat, rice, and beans.”

So, while “open-face” sandwiches do exist, the important factor in the concept of sandwich seems to be the presence of two (or more) slices of European-style leavened bread. And yet, the sandwich scene has changed considerably in the past 20 years in America. Is not a Mediterranean gyro, formed inside a pita pocket, a kind of sandwich? What about the innumerable “wraps,” initially inspired by burritos but going far beyond their origin in style and creativity? Are they not a form of sandwich?

In a new occasional series called “Anatomy of a Sandwich,” I will attempt to be as inclusive as possible without getting downright crazy about what a sandwich is or is not. These are eclectic, multicultural times, and we as a sandwich-loving people have to go with the flow. Let’s begin with the “Memphis Po Boy” at Soul Fish Café, a curious choice, perhaps, in that Soul Fish is a comfortable, family-oriented restaurant geared toward catfish and chicken.

“That’s definitely my sandwich,” said Raymond Williams, who owns Soul Fish with business partner Tiger Bryant. The original Soul Fish opened on South Cooper in 2006; in April 2010, the partners launched a branch in Germantown.

“The emphasis is certainly on chicken and catfish,” Williams said, “but the restaurant is also Southern, and I thought a barbecue sandwich was really necessary, but not a barbecue sandwich like everybody else’s. We already had the rolls for the other sandwiches, anyway.”

The formula isn’t complicated: slices of smoked pork tenderloin with bacon, cole slaw and barbecue sauce on a New Orleans-style po’ boy roll.

My wife and I have eaten many times at Soul Fish, typically ordering the fish tacos and black beans. One night though, we ended up at Soul Fish, sitting at the bar, and, probably because we already had barbecue in mind, we ordered Memphis sandwiches and were totally impressed with its over-the-top flavor and sort of Baroque approach to a local tradition. On a more recent visit, with family from out-of-town, I ordered the Memphis and was again pleased.

“We have an electric smoker in the kitchen that works like a champ,” said Williams. “We use it for everything.”

In the case of the Memphis sandwich, pork tenderloin is spiced and then smoked for an hour and a half. Putting the sandwich together requires no more than slicing the smoked pork, laying it on the bread, setting several strips of bacon on top of the pork tenderloin – “the crowning touch,” Williams said – heaping on what he called a “sweet, creamy, Memphis-style slaw,” and laving on some of what the menu describes as “our sauce,” but which is really Sweet Baby Ray’s, made in Chicago since 1985.

“I made the sauce at first,” said Williams, “but we tried Sweet Baby Ray’s and, well, it hurt my pride, but we really liked it, so we switched.”

Soul Fish doesn’t sell quite as many Memphis Po Boys as it does of its Cuban sandwich, which amounts to 50 or 60 a day, “but the Memphis is close.” Interestingly, the Germantown branch does not sell “nearly the amount of Memphis and Cuban sandwiches that Midtown sells,” Williams said. “In Germantown, fish tacos are king.”

The Memphis costs $8.50 with one side item. I recommend the sweet potato fries and lots of napkins.