One of a miscellany of short observations from a trip to Scotland.
The sandwiches today are tuna with sweet corn.
The Lady of the house — literally, she being married to a Lord — is briefing us on today’s options. When our touring schedule takes us away from the house through the noon hour, kitchen staff put out a range of foodstuffs for build-your-own bag lunches. Cheese. Biscuits, savoury and sweet (the former better known to [North] American visitors as crackers, the latter as cookies). Hallowe’en-sized chocolate bars. Fresh fruit. And, of course, sandwiches.
The offering is much the same, one day to the next: what varies is the sandwich filling. There’s nothing too exotic: we’ve had ham and cheese, we’ve had mystery-meat pí¢té. But today’s announcement snaps my head up: Did I hear aright? Tuna with sweet corn?
Around me at the breakfast table I see others of our troupe looking sideways at each other, with some leaning in for quiet conversation. I’m thinking I’m not the only one who thought the Lady said, Tuna with sweet corn.
Sitting next to some Brits, I have access to local expertise. This is great, I think. I’ll find out what’s really in those sandwiches. Put to the question, however — What did She just say? — my neighbours look at me a little blankly.
Well, one answers hesitantly, tuna with sweet corn. The other nods emphatically. Their Why do you ask? is obvious, if not quite stated.
When I explain that I’ve never heard tell of this combination, the blank looks change to odd ones.
Fast forward a few hours, and I am munching a tuna sandwich flecked with little yellow kernels of corn. It’s not an offensive combination, but neither is it remarkably apt. Not like, say, tuna and green onion. Now that’s a combination that makes perfect sense.
Maybe it’s a good thing Mom isn’t making sandwiches for us anymore. Giving her ideas like this would be like throwing gasoline….. make that petrol…. on a fire.
Ralph – OMG. No “maybe” about it! I have a clear memory of getting raisins in Something Completely Inappropriate in a sandwich of her making, about which time I took over the making of my school lunches. Although, come to think of it, maybe that was her plan all along….
Tuna and creamed corn served on a baked potato! Yes for many years this was one of my favourites for lunch at Hub Mall at the U of A. You had several choices for filling on the baked potato but tuna and corn was my favourite.
Dave – Well, there you go – that’s the sort of thing that always strikes me in clothing stores when I see acid-green outfits; to wit, who buys this stuff? Neither tuna nor creamed corn–jointly or severally–would be on my list of favourites! De gustibus non est disputandam. I’m glad someone I know enjoyed it.
I know somebody who bought an acid-green outfit, but a snowboarder suit & after 4 winters it has been weathered down — as the Brits say — by oil paint smudges. John went out to paint yesterday and did a painting but the paint was recalcitrant, he said. He had to use so much thinner and medium, when it warmed up it threatened to slightly slide off the board unless kept flat.
I told the 3 young children of my friend Mary-Anne, over dinner, you have to try something 5 times before you can say you don’t like it. Wide-eyed they took this to heart, from their authoritative and fun “aunt”. They are now omnivores of new taste experiences and were heard teaching this made-up-on-the-spot maxim of mine to their little friends! They are now all grown up and still believe it. Great cooks, too.
Suspect parenting is not all that easy….?
Barbara – That’s quite a mental image – John in the woods in a paint-smudged, acid-green snowboarder suit, trying the super-frigid temps five times before he was sure he didn’t like them… Parenting is not easy – but neither is growing up, I’d say. I think one of the best things for kids is the presence in their lives of other adults (grandparents, aunts, coaches, first bosses) who can interact with them as people but without the pressures of the parent/child relationship. It bridges the step/gap from family to community/society. And as the Brits also say – Mind the gap.