Onion Sandwiches

Men and sandwiches have always had an intimate relationship. From the early toddler days of PB&J to now, I estimate that I have eaten about 15,000 sandwiches (based on 5 or so sandwiches per week for 2932 weeks). If there is still an Earl of Sandwich, I am the Duke.

My earliest childhood memories of any substance are from age five - kindergarten. In 1956, Mrs. Hickle was my kindergarten teacher; Eisenhower was in the White House. My father was dying of cancer, being cared for at home, and I spent most of my time with relatives.

My Aunt Norine, now 92 and living in a nursing home, loved to feed me. One day, when she asked what I wanted for lunch, I said, "An onion sandwich." Puzzled, she sliced some thick slabs of homemade bread, buttered it, and put on a huge slice of white onion. Thinking that I wouldn't really eat it, she sat amused as I wolfed it down, tears streaming down my red cheeks. Onion sandwiches became my mainstay until I went to stay with my Uncle Joe and Aunt Emily.

They were also farmers, but didn't have the type and quality of onion that I preferred. They were dairy farmers. My Aunt Emily introduced me to brown sugar sandwiches, made with hot, homemade bread, freshly-churned butter, and of course, a thick layer of moist, brown sugar. It was good.

The summer that I turned six, my father passed away. My mother was a waitress who worked odd hours, so I was back with Aunt Norine and onion sandwiches again. Being in first grade now, we had to bring our lunches. After a few days of school, I quickly discovered that onion sandwiches did not have universal appeal. Miss Rider asked me not to bring them to school anymore. Hence began my sandwich experimental days. I was allowed to make my own lunches.

Several shelves of the coat closet (called a cloak room, although none of us knew what a "cloak" was) sported a cornucopia of lunch boxes - The Lone Ranger and Tonto, Superman, Mighty Mouse, and others. Most of the boys just carried our lunches in brown paper bags so we wouldn't have to drag home an empty, smelly lunch box.

The cloak room was also used as a detention cell for the unruly. I was incarcerated a few times, but not as often as Tom Myers (his real name). At least two or three times a week, Tom was marched into the cloak room for a variety of serious first-grade rule infractions, like talking or looking out the window. Miss Rider was very strict. We soon realized that Tom's timely exile to the cloak room just before lunch was problematic. Tom had a particular fondness for Snow Balls, those pink, breast-like snacks that had a marshmallow coating over chocolate cake. Fortunately, I didn't like Snow Balls because they also had a subtle sprinkling of coconut. I would eat them from time to time, if I was hungry, but I would need to scrape off the coconut, or give the entire marshmallow shell to my friend, Terry, who would eat just about anything but corn chips.

Tom would systematically rifle through the brown bags, or perhaps he had x-ray vision. Either way, food would be missing. Since I packed my own lunch, I absolutely knew the contents of my bag. Others may have thought their Mom forgot that candy bar or whatever. Tom did eat sandwiches, too, but he was very particular.

He liked my chipped ham and pickle sandwiches (My Aunt Norine made her own pickles that I now make myself). He did not like my sardine sandwiches. Neither did Miss Rider. I had yet another sandwich barred from school. In retrospect, if I had poured off all of that sardine oil, it may not have leaked through the bags on to the other lunches.

A few minutes ago, I had a veggie sandwich. It was a recipe that I had stolen by reverse-engineering a delicious sandwich that I bought near the UC Davis Medical Center. I will share this recipe with my Blog readers:

The bread should be whole grain and very fresh. Start with a thick layer of Ricotta cheese. Next, put a nice layer of pesto (basil, olive oil, Parmesan cheese, pine nuts) and a sprinkling of Tabasco sauce. Then, layer by layer, add fresh sliced tomatoes, sliced cucumber, red onion, and a big pile of fresh baby spinach.

Yes, a bit more complicated than my original onion sandwich, but believe me, it is worth the extra effort. Enjoy.

Related Topics:

• The Sandwich Goes Upscale
• 6-Pack Sandwiches

Technorati Tags: sandwiches, healthy lunches, school days