Last weekend at the grocery store, my five year old son fell in love.
We were waiting in line at the deli counter when his eyes locked on the mac ‘n cheese loaf.
“Mom, what is that?”, he said with wonderment.
“That’s some sort of meat with noodles and cheese in it”, I answered.
“Can we get it?” he asked.
“No”, I replied.
“PPPPPLLLLEEEEAAAASSSE”? he begged.
I folded. I bought three slices of “loaf” and my son was beside himself with joy.
At lunch, I gave each one of my children a slice of “loaf” to try.
They all hated it.
I was not surprised.
I wonder if anyone actually likes mac ‘n cheese loaf?
Also, what melange of mystery meats makes up “loaf”? I’m sure it’s the same pink sludge they use to make hot dogs.
I imagine that the mac ‘n cheese “loaf” people have an industrial sized vat of mechanically separated animal by-products that they eventually toss some old, abandoned mac ‘n cheese into. When it’s all mixed to perfection, I bet they jam it all into a giant machine that poops out the sludge into attractive little “loaves”. I picture it kind of looking like a Play-dough fun factory…except substitute the Play-dough with meat sludge.
Is anyone else hungry all of a sudden?
Before you get up to fix yourself a snack, why not read another one of my favourite losing writing contest stories? This one is really short, more of a blurb than an actual story. It’s about lunch foods and features my mom’s divine canned ham and pickle salad sandwiches.
If you’re tummy wasn’t rumbling before, it sure will be after reading this…
I’ll Take The Usual
Growing up, my school lunches went a little something like this; peanut butter and jam sandwich on brown bread, apple, granola bar, some sort of cut up veggies and a juice box. My mom begrudgingly made this lunch for me from grade one until high school. Her attempts to try and change things up in the lunch department always failed.
I groaned on the days where a hard boiled egg was found instead of my usual. Once she sent leftover stew in a thermos. I’ll never forget that day. On my way to school, my thermos had exploded in my backpack drenching all of it’s contents in mushy carrots, potatoes and beef. My classroom was in a portable that year and the whole day it reeked of hospital cafeteria. You know that smell, it’s a mix of onions, soup and body odour. Never again did I take anything to school in a thermos.
Another dreaded lunch was the ham salad melange. Usually reserved for funerals and baby showers, it consisted of processed canned ham, mayonnaise and diced pickles. I dreaded hearing the sound of my mom’s food processor whirling in the wee hours of a week day morning. That was how she made the vile salmon hued spread. Needless to say, nobody ever wanted to trade sandwiches with me on rank ham day.
Since my oldest son started grade one in September, I have become his official lunch maker. I would delight in sending him peanut butter and jam sandwiches, but nuts are banned from his school. His daily lunches go a little something like this; tortilla with hummus, cut up veggies, some sort of fruit, yogurt, granola bar and some water.
He rarely complains about his midday meal, but then again, I’ve never sent him a ham salad sandwich or a thermos full of stew. And I never will.
I know he prefers his usual.