Perched strategically on Green Street where the game trails of students, shoppers and sightseers coalesce: Marvin’s has piqued our interest since it opened just a few months ago.  We went to see whether they could live up to their bold promise of “outrageously good sandwiches”.

Space is limited inside Marvin’s, and so we were lucky to arrive just as a group was leaving. We parked ourselves on two cushioned chairs and took stock of our surroundings. The interior is carefully designed, with a clear eye towards curation of a relaxed, informal atmosphere. A greenhouse-worth of plastic plants, colourful, framed aphorisms, cushions, and the honeyed tones of Sade sought to accomplish this. Though, perhaps we are over-analysing. Once sat, we quickly felt at ease and our surroundings smoothly settled into the peripheries. From the perspective of our hosts: mission accomplished.

Finn bought a flat white, which delivered unpretentious but seriously tasty coffee, and perfectly done milk. Regardless of the food, we would already be happy to return for a coffee alone. Our spirits and expectations were high, and it was time for the sandwiches.

“Aesthetically capitalising on an established hype is one thing; delivering on the plate is another”

The Marvin’s menu was tantalising us with its mix of classic and en vogue sandwiches, ambitiously international with its inclusion of Vietnamese, American, Caribbean and British dishes. While tempted by the Korean BBQ and Aubergine Parmigiana sandwiches, we went for the salt beef bagel and the fish finger sandwich (‘Catch of the Day’). They swiftly arrived, with the unfortunate caveat that they had run out of bagels, so both were served in between slices of soft white bloomer.

Before we get stuck into the food, its presentation clarified our assessment of Marvin’s as belonging to a very specific cultural trend. From ‘Sensational Sandwiches’ to ‘Eating with Tod’, and cross-sections to ‘cheese-pulls’, social media has cast the sandwich as protagonist in the modern digital spectacle of food. Millions of us regularly scroll our way along the conveyor belt of the food content machine, consuming one virtual sandwich after another. Watching these, it is natural to long for a taste of the real thing. Identifying, consciously or otherwise, with this sandwich-mania puts Marvin’s on the front foot. But precariously so. Aesthetically capitalising on an established hype is one thing; delivering on the plate is another. We approached the first bite hoping for the latter.

The salt beef bagel

 There is a gold standard for this. An example of a viral sensation that not only has a rich history pre-short form content, but also a product that actually warrants the attention – Brick Lane’s Beigel Bake. A salt beef bagel is a question of harmony between three ingredients: acidic pickles, spicy mustard, and salty beef. The latter was the highlight. Not too fatty – as is often the case – the beef had a great salt level. Unfortunately, it was a little on the tough side. The mustard and pickles were nicely balanced, though offered a slightly lacklustre acidity and heat. On the day we visited, the three-flavour choir was singing in harmony, though they had lost their voice a little.

“The three-flavour choir was singing in harmony, though they had lost their voice a little”

The bread, from Stir bakery, was fresh, light in the middle and clearly good quality. However, it was slightly brought down by overly thick slices which rendered the crusts unenjoyable to eat. In a bagel, it may have been afforded greater leeway, but when combined with the tough crusts of the bread, the sandwich waged a small battle (not a war) with the jaw. Overall, a perfectly respectable interpretation of a classic, which would have surely been elevated if it was actually in a bagel. Its price of £9 was on the steep side, but not ridiculous.

Score - 6/10

The fish finger sandwich

 One of the nation’s staples. Marvin’s take includes two stacks of fish fingers served on a bed of lettuce, a healthy dose of tartare sauce and topped with thin chipsticks to add a crunch. At least, that’s what you would hope if they actually added the potato element. A take on a fish-and-chip butty with no chips presaged the sandwich’s woes. The middle third of the ‘soft-crispy-soft’ textural contrast, a defining feature of any self-respecting fish finger sandwich, was left to limp strands of lettuce, thrown under the bus by a baffling interpretation of a fish finger. Where we expected crispy batter and flaky fish, we were left wanting. The batter was flaccid and barely clinging to the fish, which itself the chewiness and granularity of wet sand.

Though, sand, you suspect, would taste more like fresh fish. The fish fingers had all the flavour (or lack of) found in a frozen Captain Birdseye product. Again, their deficits passed the buck to a different ingredient, this time to a serviceable tartare sauce, but this was insufficient to save the flavour of the sandwich. For £11, we really expected something better.

Score: 4/10

“Marvin’s seems to have done its makeup but forgotten its trousers”

Overall, we left our meal with a feeling of mild disappointment. Our expectations were set high by the clamour for seats and the exciting menu. However, while there were commendable aspects in the coffee, the bread, and parts of the salt beef bagel, it didn’t deliver where it mattered. Marvin’s seems to have done its makeup but forgotten its trousers.

As we mentioned earlier, Marvin’s is clearly aware of the importance of social media marketability – you see, the average punter has never actually tasted a sandwich that looks so instagrammable. Instead, hours of consuming them in online form has led to heightened expectations that – when met with the reality of a mundane sandwich – has created a nationwide self-gaslighting session, with Cambridge falling victim most recently.

The internet is trying to reinvent the basic into the extraordinary. It completely misses the point of these nostalgia-filled, freezer-space-making classics, such as the Fish Finger sandwich. They are formed in humility, and in that state they should remain. Sometimes, a sh*t should remain unpolished. And if you are going to buff a turd, at least remember the chipsticks.

Overall:

Food: 5/10

Atmosphere: 7/10

Value: 5/10