Back to school. And sandwiches.
I remember the day I graduated from the school of peanut butter and jelly and made the transition to cold cuts. I was in Mrs. Brummitt's PM kindergarten class, and the sandwich contained Oscar Mayer bologna, lettuce, and mayo. My mom made it for me. And I remember liking the crisp of the lettuce and the creamy mayo and the meaty bologna, and coming home and telling Mom to please make it again.
Things have changed since my kindergarten days in 1989. For example, lunch time no longer includes a choice between chocolate milk or white milk, and I no longer wear ruffly black and white polka-dot socks. And yet, some things remain the same: my height, for the most part, and my sandwiches. No, I'm not still bringing bologna-and-mayo sandwiches made my Mom. More like turkey-ham-mustard-everythingelseinthefridge sandwiches made by Murdo. And on those glorious sandwich days, I'll come home and ask him to please make it again.
Sometimes, when I'm sleeping, Murdo steals my camera and takes pictures of the sandwiches.*
And sometimes, when I'm eating, I'll stop and stare at the sandwich and think things like, "There's something in here that I really like. What is that? Celery? There's actually celery in this sandwich? This is the best sandwich ever."
Other days, I'll hop around in my desk chair a bit because he added radishes. Or a baggie of Rainier cherries. Or a pickle, wrapped lovingly in tin foil.
Yes, when I'm sitting at a desk and staring at a computer all day, these are the kinds of things that excite me. Or any day, for that matter, because a sandwich made especially for one person by another is certainly something to get excited about. Hopping excited. Each bite is a surprise, each layer carefully constructed, the sogginess factor calculated and solved. It's enough to make me forget I'm no longer in kindergarten anymore and that I'm all grown up (well, kind of). It's just radishes and Rainier cherries and the simple joys of life.
*Photos of sandwich assembly taken by Murdo.
Things have changed since my kindergarten days in 1989. For example, lunch time no longer includes a choice between chocolate milk or white milk, and I no longer wear ruffly black and white polka-dot socks. And yet, some things remain the same: my height, for the most part, and my sandwiches. No, I'm not still bringing bologna-and-mayo sandwiches made my Mom. More like turkey-ham-mustard-everythingelseinthefridge sandwiches made by Murdo. And on those glorious sandwich days, I'll come home and ask him to please make it again.
Sometimes, when I'm sleeping, Murdo steals my camera and takes pictures of the sandwiches.*
And sometimes, when I'm eating, I'll stop and stare at the sandwich and think things like, "There's something in here that I really like. What is that? Celery? There's actually celery in this sandwich? This is the best sandwich ever."
Other days, I'll hop around in my desk chair a bit because he added radishes. Or a baggie of Rainier cherries. Or a pickle, wrapped lovingly in tin foil.
Yes, when I'm sitting at a desk and staring at a computer all day, these are the kinds of things that excite me. Or any day, for that matter, because a sandwich made especially for one person by another is certainly something to get excited about. Hopping excited. Each bite is a surprise, each layer carefully constructed, the sogginess factor calculated and solved. It's enough to make me forget I'm no longer in kindergarten anymore and that I'm all grown up (well, kind of). It's just radishes and Rainier cherries and the simple joys of life.
*Photos of sandwich assembly taken by Murdo.
Your blog makes me so hungry. =)
ReplyDeleteThat is so cute that he makes your sandwiches. Love it.
ReplyDeleteAH! Love this post so much. When I was on vacay, maybe the best place we ate was this adorable little restaurant called Paolina's Way in Camden, and at the end of the meal, they brought us a laminated card with our bill, with this inscription on it:
ReplyDelete"There are things you do
because they feel right
& they may make no sense
& they may make no money
& it may be the real reason
we are here: to love each
other & to eat each other's
cooking & say it was good."
Your post made me think about that and why I love it so much.
This post made me so happy. I love sandwiches, and I love making them. I love eating sandwiches made for me by someone else.
ReplyDeleteAnd Shanna, that is a lovely quote! So lovely, in fact, that I am going to blog about it.
I remember homemade sandwiches my dad used to make me they were always so flat, toast with ham cheese and mustard. I was so jealous of the kids who had the parents who know to roll the ingredients up and add crunchy things. Now my husband makes the sandwiches and you never know what is going to be on them, they look a lot like yours.
ReplyDeleteSo cute!
ReplyDeletehi! i've just recently found your blog — what a nice post!
ReplyDeleteYou two are too sweet. I love it. And, these sandwiches look pretty darn good too.
ReplyDeletehector - you should make yourself a sandwich. and while you're at it, make someone else a sandwich, too. it'll just make everyone happy (and no longer hungry!).
ReplyDeletewhitney - i love it, too. i think i'll keep him.
shanna - thanks again for that quote. you never fail to move me.
kim - i love that you blogged about that quote. spread the love!
echolage - i think your husband and my fiance would get along. in fact, i think we'd all get along. :)
antonietta - thanks!
carolyn - thank you and welcome!
jennifer - it's all about the simple things. i can't stress that enough!
Aw, so cute!
ReplyDeletethanks, hannah! :)
ReplyDeletethis is absolutely the sweetest post ever. i love it!
ReplyDeleteNice!
ReplyDeleteIt looks delicious!!
postcollegecook and 190.arch - thanks! the sandwiches are huge, too. i can *almost* never finish them, but i'm kind of a freak about finishing my food, esp. when made with so much love. :)
ReplyDelete