I’ve been bottling up something for one week, but I can’t keep the secret any longer. It was like a great personal achievement to me, something I wanted to do for years and that I had never thought of doing until last week. For the first time in my life I cooked a toasted sandwich the traditional way, with a frying pan and a small pot lid, without the sandwich toaster or any toast-pressing machine.
You may think this is absurd and lacks interest. Well, I’ve loved toasted sandwiches since I was a child. Those nights my mother would ask what I wanted to have for dinner because she didn’t know what to cook, I always asked for toasted sandwiches. To tell the truth, most of the times I would avoid her by saying “anything will do”. But when I answered, I always asked for them. It was amazing to have such a simple and easy thing to cook which tasted that good.
One summer, when I was a kid, I decided to make the untoasted sandwiches my daily afternoon snack. That was not so great because I just stuffed some ham and cheese between two slices of bread without toasting it. I couldn’t cook and I was in a rush to go out, so it was OK at that time.
When I got older and learnt to cook reasonably well, I only made toasted sandwiches using my friends’ sandwich toasters. If there wasn’t a machine, I wouldn’t even think of making any. But last week I was alone in the flat and too lazy and with no time to cook. Moreover, I’ve grown addicted to that thing which away from the Mediterranean you call bread like there was nothing which deserved this name more than this ― there’s a practical reason, I just eat one or two loaves a day and decent bread doesn’t keep soft ad eternum. All these circumstances had a consequence.
I mentally pictured my mother, took the objects she used to use and repeated her movements. The sandwich tasted so great! In moments like this you realize that becoming independent you grow as a person.