Why packed lunches are the key to my heart
‘It is impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you,’ says Nigel Slater in the opening chapter of his fantastic autobiography, Toast. Charlotte Morgan feels exactly the same way about packed lunches.
Schoolgirl memories
I was different at school. Instead of the sandwich, apple and chocolate Penguin combo, my packed lunch boxes came filled with exotic treats such as dried pears, apple purée, chunks of smoked cheese, homemade salads and Pom Bears (everybody else had Monster Munch). A gaggle of friends would peer into my Dennis the Menace box every lunchtime, curious to see what weird things I had that day, but not quite brave enough to try a bit.
Packing someone else’s lunch for them is the best way to express love. When I opened my box, I’d envisage mum (or dad, if the former was unavoidably detained) scouring the supermarket in search of food that would interest me. Finding a mini satsuma with a Disney sticker on it, a home-baked raisin bun cake (my favourite), or a ‘poorly girl’ sandwich filling when I felt rough made me feel more special than even an I LOVE YOU DARLING X X X Post It note could have done.
Super salads
I’m a full-grown adult now, and my Dennis the Menace packed lunch box is hiding somewhere in the loft. But I still live at home and nearly every evening mum makes me a Tupperware box full of salad (such as that in the main picture above). Not the lettuce, tinned tuna and cucumber kind; but the Ottolenghi kind, which features pea shoots, toasted walnuts, creamy slithers of blue cheese, pear pieces, pickled beetroot, squidgy cubes of roasted veg, plum tomatoes, croutons, fresh herbs… Every time I lift the lid I feel a flutter of joy – someone has made all this, just for me!
Of course lovefood editor Andrew teases me about my homemade packed lunches (well, I am nearly 26), and I have told mum that she needn’t go to all that trouble. But, truth be told, if she stopped making them I’d have to request Post It notes instead, just to get my daily hit of love.
What to do?
I am genuinely worried because I’m moving out in a couple of months and won’t be there to pick up mum’s salads. My very own lunch, made just for me, which is left out on the kitchen table every morning with a ‘have a nice day dear’ note next to it. It makes me feel weepy just thinking about it. I relayed these emotions to my boyfriend, and he seemed concerned. Was I expecting him to make me one of these lunches every evening? And if so, how could they possibly match the brilliance of a Mrs Morgan salad?
The poor boy must have panicked, and a couple of days later I was presented with an enormous sparkly bag, labelled ‘Charly’s Lunch’ and stuffed full with an obscene amount of food. He’d made me a lentil and halloumi salad (very impressed), and also included a bag of my favourite crisps, a smoothie for elevensies, and a bar of the chocolate I go crazy for, among other delights. It’s a wonderful feeling, knowing that someone went to Waitrose just to shop for your special packed lunch.
To have one person who wants to make you a packed lunch is lucky, but to have two? Why, that just makes me feel the luckiest person in the world.
Does anyone make you a packed lunch? Or do you make someone theirs? Do they appreciate it? Talk to us in the Comments box below.
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