24:15 Lunchroom Barbarians

March 16th, 2011

They pour over the rise in a ragged line, eyes glazed and staring off into the middle distance. As they advance, various articles fall from their hands and backs; shoes, packs, jackets, papers, and unidentifiable plastic bits clog up the pathway, only to be trampled unseen by those following close behind. A low and insistent moan issues from their mouths and the atmosphere becomes dangerously charged.  Half a dozen of them break off from the horde and fling open the door of a small unassuming dwelling, trammeling the stairs, and swarming the inhabitants.

The Lunchroom Barbarians are home and they are hungry.

Every day after school a similar scene unfolds with minor variations. Up before the sun for a modest breakfast, a sack lunch at midday, and then nothing until 4:00 when the bus lets them off at the corner. It’s a long time to go between fueling for growing bodies and they need a healthy snack to make it to dinner a couple of hours away. A hungry Barbarian horde is a difficult handful until their blood sugar levels stabilize. Little things like good manners, consideration of others, and the ability to wait longer than ten seconds all go by the wayside during this twilight of the senses.

Wipe my feet? Sorry. Hang up my jacket? I forgot. Put my backpack in my room? But I’m tired. Chew with my mouth closed? Oh, right. Pick up my stuff? I don’t see anything. Stop standing on my sister’s foot? But I was here first!

Barbarians.

The solution is simple and elegant. Each Barbarian is required to stand in the kitchen and down a glass of milk. Then they are sent to pick up all the detritus they dropped on the way in, to put it in their rooms, and to change out of their school uniforms. In the fifteen minutes it takes them to drag their feet to accomplish this, the magic white elixir has done its job soothing the savages and mere Nodlings emerge from their rooms. They get a protein-laden snack and a short down-time before beginning their homework.

Have you ever tried to make food for a crowd of kids? Depending on their mood, it can be an exercise in frustration. This one doesn’t like tomatoes, that one won’t eat peanut butter, this other one insists on juice and never water. Why can’t I have cookies for a snack instead of carrots? My banana has a spot on it. I don’t want meat on my sandwich. Or mustard. Or cheese. No matter what you make, someone is going to be put off.

It’s at times like these that I remember what my mother always told me: “This is not a restaurant.”

Coming from a large Catholic family, I always brown bagged my lunch because it was economical. Lunches usually consisted of a sandwich, a drink, a piece of fruit, and one other mandible such as chips, string cheese, granola bars, and so forth. Not much has changed between then and now. I brown bagged all throughout grade school, high school, and my early working career.  (I didn’t brown bag in college because on my budget that was considered a luxury; I got a job in a restaurant which worked out nicely.)

I have easily eaten 20 years worth of sandwiches. So I have a little sympathy that the Nodlings have to eat them too. It can be boring and repetitive. There is only so much you can slap between two pieces of bread on any given day and still have the kids eat it: lunch meats, peanut butter, tuna fish. So if we’re going to have to eat sandwiches, they might as well be built correctly.  A good sandwich starts with good ingredients, but the ordering of the parts can be the difference between just OK and a taste extravaganza. Mrs. Nod makes the same sandwiches I do, but the Nodlings always like mine better. Here’s why:

-=-=- o -=-=-

A few simple rules applied in this order is key to making a great sandwich and to avoid being a sandwich barbarian:

  • Bread. Don’t use white bread, it does nothing for you and it’s tasteless. Whole wheat, whole grain, natural sugars (avoid high fructose corn syrup). For specialty sandwiches and grown up tastes, use pumpernickel, marbled rye, and sourdough.
  • Mayonnaise goes on the bread. It’s a spread for crying out loud. It’s purpose is to moisten the bread and make it slide past the gums more easily. Easy does it. I despise those national sandwich chains that slather a metric ton of the stuff on top with their squirt bottles after the sandwich is already built — I’m looking at you, Jared.
  • Meat. Overlap your slices for complete coverage on the bread. Tougher meats like salami benefit from doing the “deli fold” instead of laying flat so you don’t pull the whole thing out on the first bite. That and it makes your sandwich look pretty.
  • Mustard goes on meat. The spicy tang of mustard is uniquely positioned to enhance the flavor of meat. No mixing. Put your mustard on the opposite side of the meat and not touching the mayonnaise on the bread.
  • Cheese is key. Pick a flavorful cheese like swiss to impart flavor to blander meats like turkey, a mildly salty cheese like cheddar will complement roast beef and bologna well.  Salted meats pair well with milder cheeses. I recommend keeping the cheese next to the meat.
  • Greens are good. Put lettuce on the sandwich. Even if the kids don’t think they like lettuce, it imparts a freshness to the sandwich that is hard to beat. Leaf lettuce is largely unoffensive and has the advantage of being very pretty. Presentation counts in food preparation.  Iceberg lettuce is cheap and slightly crunchy since it contains more water than other lettuce. For a change of pace, try thin sliced cucumbers instead of lettuce. Delightful!
  • Tomato. If you’re going to use it, choose a firm tomato that doesn’t have a lot of seeds or running juices. This isn’t a sloppy joe. The acid in the tomato juice can do funny things to your cheese, so separate the two using the lettuce.
  • Other condiments. These are used as an accent to the food, not as a main course. A judicious dash of salt and pepper can add just the right oomph to an otherwise ordinary sandwich.

In general, you want to alternate wet and dry ingredients and make sure you put complimentary flavors next to each other. Eating a sandwich upside down changes the order in which you taste the ingredients. So don’t.

In a big family, you can’t always get every kind of food you want, but there are ways to civilize the lunchroom barbarians. Making a killer sandwich is just one.

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3 Responses to 24:15 Lunchroom Barbarians

  1. Barb Schoeneberger says:
    March 21, 2011 at 8:56 am

    Your post makes me want to eat a sandwich now. I grew up in a large Catholic family, too, and brownbagged lunch through all of school, including college. Somehow, food from home in a brown bag tastes better than restaurant fare to me.

  2. JasonGennaro says:
    March 23, 2011 at 8:40 am

    I may need to print this out and post it on the fridge! ;-)

    By the way, the kids call the Swedish-style rye bread that my wife purchases "daddy's bread" because, well, there is something about a sandwich on rye.

  3. Lindsay says:
    April 6, 2011 at 10:17 pm

    My college roommate was a foodie, but not in the "here's how to make your eating life better" sense like this. Perhaps she should consider converting. ;)

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