I reckon that all food is good for you. After all, if you don’t eat, you will die. In my opinion, an unhealthy diet is a result of not enough variety. To achieve a healthy diet, one should try to eat as many different things as possible, but in moderation.
I will inject an important note at this point: I am not a nutritionist. I am not a health expert. But I am a healthy person. In fact the last time I saw my doctor for a check up, she said that I was “disgustingly healthy”.
So I have not got many credentials as a diet expert – but what I do works for me.
For most of my life I have applied my principle of maximum variety to sandwiches.
My mother was a wonderful person, and I loved her dearly and still miss her, but she was not one for kitchen creativity.
In her opinion, there were only two kinds of sandwiches. The first was for grown-ups, and that was a piece of salami laid on a slice of bread, and then the bread was folded in half. The second was for children, and used the same technique of folded bread, but with peanut butter substituted for salami.
One of the first things I learned when I started school was that there are other kinds of sandwiches! I guess when a lot of kids start school they are excited by new vistas opening up through learning to read. I was excited by new ideas for lunch.
But as a small child adjusting to a new timetable, I could never get up early enough to make my own sandwich, so for months I ate folded bread with peanut butter.
At long last, we had a school trip. Instead of assembling at the usual time, we were to meet outside the school about half an hour r later. A kind neighbour offered to give me a lift to school (I lived some distance away).
On the appointed day I got up at the usual time, and announced to my mother that I would make my own sandwich. Sadly, when I looked in the fridge, there were none of the ingredients that I had observed the other children eating. No ham, chicken or cheese slices, or similar delicacies were to be found.
After studying the contents of the fridge, I announced to my mother that I would be having a cabbage sandwich.
Always a diplomat, my mother suggested that it would be a good idea if I took along a peanut butter sandwich as well, just in case I didn’t like my creation.
I insisted that I did like cabbage sandwiches, but my mother pressed on with spreading a slice of bread with peanut butter.
Soon I had a brown paper bag in my hand that contained one cabbage sandwich, and one filled with peanut butter.
I informed my mother that I would wait outside the house, so that our neighbour would not waste any time.
Instead of a letterbox through the door, my parents had a large box fixed to the house, right next to the front door.
Later that morning, collecting the mail from the box, my mother found the peanut butter sandwich nestled among the letters and catalogues.
Of course I told my mother that I had enjoyed my cabbage sandwich, but I never made myself another one.
The incident did persuade my mother to take me along to the grocery store so that I could choose some fillings other than peanut butter.
In my teenage years I left the USA and went to live with relatives in Wales.
My uncle was blind, and food was very important to him as it was something that he could enjoy as much as any person with sight. My aunt was a devoted wife and wonderful cook who made every effort to provide variety.
Aunt Millie immediately understood my desire for different sandwiches and produced some delightful inventions. I think that my favourite was cream cheese and walnut on whole wheat bread. Now that I am older and need to limit my calorie intake I would avoid this combination, but as an active teenager this provided a real wallop of energy and taste.
I met Wonderful Husband when I was a student in England. The first time I produced sandwiches for him he was so horrified by my choice of fillings that it is amazing he even asked me out again, let alone marry me.
We were invited with a crowd of friends to an outdoor event and picnic.
The local delicatessen held a wealth of delicious options for sandwiches, and I chose what I thought to be the most interesting and tasty.
Well! I certainly didn’t know him well in those days, because when I announced that I had brought along tongue sandwiches his face was a picture of disgust. He could hardly have been more upset if I had told him I would be serving rat poison.
My second choice was hardly more successful. The deli had surprised me by having on display Caerphilly cheese, a lovely white, crumbly cheese from Wales.
At least he didn’t look horrified when I said ‘Caerphilly Cheese’ – just blank. He said that he had never heard of it.
After a bit of persuasion he agreed to try it, and agreed that it was nice, but not as good as ordinary cheese.
Oh well, we are still married and he takes a ham sandwich to work every day.
Yesterday I had a sandwich filled with tuna, anchovies and mashed up sweet corn. Yum.
