Food, not-so-glorious weekday lunchtime food
Christmas. Forget the dread of returning to work to work. Work’s work. I accept it, get on with it.
I’m more concerned about the dread of not being able to knock together something to eat from the bits and pieces in the fridge.
Bye-bye all that – at least until the weekend, when the fridge is invariably restocked, albeit without the “what’s left” parameters.
Hello again limp, wanky sandwiches (‘wankwiches’ if you will), a sticky blob of pasta which I’ll attempt to enliven with a dollop or five of pesto with the feeble attempt at “healthenising” with some salad leaves, or a tin of tomato soup that has whirred to warmth in the microwave, to repetitively slurp up, spoonful by samey spoonful. The shit work lunch will return. 12 hours from now I’ll be looking forward to my midday break, and whatever food I have decided to treat myself with.
Lucky me. Because I have only myself to blame.
Compare to dinner today, my last chance to knock together a warming, personalised meal from the holiday remnants.
Sausages? Into the oven. Onion rings. In there too on 180 degrees. Carrots? Chopped, united in the boiling water with some potatoes and mashed together about twenty minutes later. The leftover cabbage and lonesome rashers of bacon? Chop, chop, chop, and in to sizzle, sizzle, sizzle in the frying pan, along with a few large splashes of ale.
Serving up, a simple matter. A couple of those there, a dollop of that there, and some of those on the side on the side of the plate. Warm food in flavour and comfort, and enjoyed by those eating it. A stark contrast to the lunch at work.
Certainly food for thought on what I am going to do with my weekday lunches in the coming days. Do I go back to my accepted, expected approach – or do I look into something that provides something more… memorable in my day’s half time break? (Something that doesn’t cost me a tenner every time like a trip to the Bell and Cross Keys might.)
If only workplaces had cookers, eh. They don’t. Face it, Si. But that shouldn’t stop me having something more enjoyable, more imaginative – and it won’t.