The highlight of my day is lunch, which tells you something
about my life. On a good day, I can manage to put it off until around
three, which means while my husband is eating lunch at noon, I'm having
a "midmorning" cup of coffee. By the time I finish lunch, it's almost
time to start dinner, so afternoons have sort of slipped out of my
life.
You would think the reason for late lunch could be
that it's very complicated and needs hours to cook, like veal Orloff or
braised lamb shanks with exotic mushrooms and white beans. The thing
of it is my lunch is usually a piece of toast, a slice of cheese and a
couple of pieces of tomato. In other words, it's an ordinary open-face
sandwich that could come out of a cookbook for beginning cooks — like
children.
Occasionally someone wants to meet for lunch. I
try not to sound wimpish by saying how nice it would be to have coffee,
but that's pretty much what I say. If I want to be expansive, I throw
in "and a muffin." The truth is, I cannot bring myself to admit I'm in
a lunch rut I can't seem to pull out of.
I have no idea why this lunch issue has become such a big deal. It's not even my favorite meal. That would be breakfast, but that's another story.
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