As I continue my quest to try every supermarket club sandwich the 10 minute radius around the office has to offer, today we are sampling Pret’s “Super Club” chicken club sandwich. This is about as lacklustre as they come - it’s a glorified BLT, perhaps best described as a lovechild between the classic “chicken mayo” and BLT sandwiches. Cheese? No. Middle bread, as Wikipedia states a modern club sandwich must have? No. Toasted? No. This is, put quite simply, an abomination of a Club Sandwich, bringing nothing but shame to the name. The wholemeal bread does this sandwich absolutely no favours, bringing a subtle, bitter aftertaste to each and every bite. The dismal, wilted leaves lining the arid bread are simply succumbing to the parched home they have been subjected to - conditions you would not wish upon your worst enemy. The pink, fading, thinly sliced tomatoes owe no homage to their heirloom ancestors - no, this is a GMO tomato, and you can tell with each, perilous bite.
Coming in a standard white Pret sandwich box, no labelling at all, this is barely presented any better than your classic petrol station sandwich. I do however commend Pret for the generous chicken mayo filling - the sandwich is almost bursting at the seams, which almost makes up for the quite frankly abhorrent price they’re extorting out of the general public for such a pathetic excuse of a sandwich.
Value for Money
This sandwich comes in at a wallet-busting £3.49 - and as is standard with Pret, once you’ve accessorised your lunch with a drink and perhaps a bag of crisps, this lunch will bankrupt you. Pret is a curse in the City of London, you cannot run nor hide without stumbling across a Pret on your dreary commute, surrounded by sad office workers queuing at the doors for their quick caffeine fix. Do they know they’re sad? No, and that’s the saddest part of all. Once you subject yourself to the Pret lunch routine, there is simply no escape. You’ll see Pret in your dreams, your nightmares, and at every turn. Avoid at all costs.