They say to write about what you love. If you do that, the words will spill out of you and you will write wonderful words. Well, besides my kids and my husband, I love food. I love to cook food, I love to eat food, I love everything about food. So here I am, writing about food.
Food has the ability to stir up memories in us that we may have forgotten. Sometimes they may not be pleasant, like rotisserie chicken makes me want to barf now just like it did when I was pregnant. Sometimes though, they are the most magnificent of memories. Memories that bring a smile to your face every time you think about it. These sammies do that for me. I always think about coming home from school on a really terrible day and coming home full of piss and vinegar. Angry because I failed a test, or dropped my lunch, or fell down in the hallway. Then I would walk in the house and the smell of these delights cooking in the Crock Pot would smack me square in the face and I instantly forgot about the craptastic day I suffered through and counted the minutes until I could sit at the table with my family and stuff my face with sammies and salad.
Now I get to pass them on to my kids. It’s one of the very few meals in which I don’t have to listen to cries of ‘I don’t liiiiiiike that’ or ‘ewwwwwwwwww, that’s grossssssssss’ or ‘I’m not eating thaaaaat’. When they wake up in the morning and their noses are filled with that same smell (because the sammies have been cooking all night long) I hear ‘I can’t wait to get home for dinner’ or ‘Mom made our favorite’ or ‘YEEEEE HAWWWWWW’. When we all reconvene after a long day apart and we finally sit down around the table, just like I did as a kid, the only complaints I hear are when the roll bowl is empty before their bellies are full and when there aren’t enough leftovers for everyone to have a sandwich for lunch the next day.
They don’t even ask for dessert. That alone should tell you something.