Dh reminded me that he used to go to a little sandwich shop near Fenchurch Street station in London - I think it was Italian. They made the sandwiches while you waited - and if you wanted the roast beef sandwich, they sliced it from the joint of beef. They got to know him, and knew he liked really rare beef, so used to make sure they cut from the thick end of the joint for his sandwich. I think he still misses going there, now he doesn't commute into Fenchurch Street any more.
Apropos of beef sandwiches - there is a standing joke in the EvilWolef family. When the boys were in their teens, we came up to Scotland on holiday, and stopped off on the way, at a lovely cafe near Sweetheart Abbey, for lunch. When the waitress came round, ds1 asked her, in all seriousness "What's in the beef sandwich, please?" - to which she replied, slightly baffled, "Errr, beef" 
. We all laughed, and have never let him forget. To this day, any question to which the answer is blatantly obvious, is known as a beef sandwich question.
Of course, what he actually wanted to ask was "What else is in the beef sandwich - horseradish/salad/tomatoes?" - but he didn't think it through!!
And the Boxing Day sandwiches - they have a memory attached too - one which does not paint me in the best light. We have goose for Christmas dinner because dh doesn't like turkey. A big one does enough for Christmas day and one meal of leftovers - I shred up the meat and dry-fry it in soy sauce, runny honey and five spice until it goes sticky - it is delicious. That is my standard December 27th dinner.
I do plan the meals over Christmas pretty meticulously - it saves me some stress, but to be honest, by the time Christmas Day and Boxing Day are over, I have done far too much stressing and worrying in the run up. So when, one year, I went to the kitchen on the 27th, to make the sticky goose dinner, and found that half the goose was missing, I completely lost the plot. There were tears, cross words, more tears, snot and a whole lot of unreasonableness from me around all of us starving because there was NOTHING for tea.
It turned out that ds2 had decided to have himself a delicious roast goose sandwich for his lunch, and had had half the leftovers. Dh had to cope with my meltdown - he took me off into the front room and plied me with gin and tissues to calm me down, before he went to the groaningly full fridge and found plenty of stuff for a dinner of cold meat and salad.
I have (quite rightly) never been allowed to forget this. Every Christmas someone will suggest they get a roast goose sandwich for their lunch.