1. You need a certain kind of bread for this sandwich: Vogel’s Soya and Linseed loaf. It is the best sliced bread since sliced bread.
2. Fry up the smoked tofu in untoasted sesame oil - slice is up about 3mm thick, using up the whole block. Yes, I know it’s £3.99 for that tiny block and yes we need it all for these sandwiches. Cook both sides until nicely golden brown.
3. While that’s happening, mix in a bowl some white tahini, Coleman’s mustard, cold water and a teeny dash of maple syrup. Sprinkle salt. Spread this on each of the pieces do Vogel’s bread, and put aside
4. You can remove the tofu from the heat now, and set them aside to cool.
5. Now. Chop half a red onion into very thin slices. As thin as you can get it without slicing off your own fingers. Lay these on of the bread slices.
6. Next, lay some salad leaves. Keep the leaves large, so they form a barrier between the bread and the next ingredient: sauerkraut.
7. It’s the cabbage thing in the fridge, with bits of wild garlic in it from the garden. It stinks, I’m sorry, but it’s delicious.
8. After the sauerkraut you can place the tofu on top, and then the rest of the alfalfa that needs using up.
9. Close the sandwich, and slice into 2 on a diagonal.
10. Do it again, because now you will want a sandwich too.
I really enjoyed this exercise. Not sure how good a poem I wrote, but I enjoyed writing it, which is maybe the point. Here it is:
***
How to make a grilled cheese sandwich
Drop some butter into a small sauce pan and let it melt.
Toast up two pieces of bread.
Smear them with butter on one side.
Lay one slice butter side down on the fry pan.
Turn the heat on low and let it sit.
Add one thick slice of cheddar to the toast in the pan.
Lay on two strips of crispy bacon that you were smart enough to have prepped ahead of time.
Drizzle the cheese and bacon with that knock-off sriracha-sauce you bought a couple of months ago but haven't dared to open yet.
Lay the other slice of toast on top, butter-side up.
Get the heavy spatula out of the rack under the sink where we keep it.
Press down firmly on the sandwich until your arm gets tired.
Flip it over, do it again.
And again.
And again.
Until your sandwich has compressed to a flat, crispy golden square, bacon and cheddar leaking out the sides and dripping into your frying pan where they steam and sizzle away.
Lift it off the hot frying pan and carefully lay it on a plate.
Slice it in half diagonally.
Always diagonally.
Serve with potato chips and a coke.
***
How to Come Home
Drop some coins
into the green ticket machine and let it beep.
Take up two tickets
Paid in full.
Crease them and
Hide them in your wallet.
Put one out to use now
Inside the station.
Slide your suitcase into the rack
and let it ride
Add one souvenir
From the cart to the pile of gifts in your bag.
Pull out the book and the headphones that you were smart enough to have prepped
ahead of time.
Turn on your music
and open your book
To that passage you keep coming back to and fail to read it again because
You have it
Memorized.
Play the music you have queued,
Volume up.
Remember the heavy spatula in the rack under the sink
where we keep it.
Press down firmly on the emotions, tears
until your eyes get tired.
Restart the playlist,
do it again.
And again.
And again.
Until your composure has returned to a flat,
Businesslike resolve,
Memory and worry leaking out the sides and dripping tears out of your eyes where they are brushed and scrubbed away.
Get off the hot, crowded train and
carefully make your way to a place
Where you know how things are done and where you always have
Thanks for sharing this! This is a good poem! I love how it stirs up feelings of warmth, nostalgia, and longing in my even though my experience of going home is quite different and doesn't involve trains at all.
How to Find a Moment of Peace in the Middle of a Hectic, High-Pressure Day
First, you need two
small slices of time. Make sure
the slices are about
the same size.
Freeze those slices in
your mind. Put some leftover
love on a plate and top it with
BBQ sauce. Heat the love for
one minute in the microwave.
Next, you need to
spread gratitude on one slice of time
and hope on the other.
Mix the love into
the BBQ sauce after heating it.
Spread the love onto the slice
with the gratitude
and put a piece of sharp wonder
on the other slice of time
where you spread your hope.
Close the sandwich
and heat in the microwave for
another 30 seconds
to melt the wonder.
Cut the sandwich in half
if you wish,
and then enjoy
your moment of peace!
I see what you did there!
I’m going to give this a try!
Awesome! Good luck!
Instructions for a smoked tofu sandwich.
1. You need a certain kind of bread for this sandwich: Vogel’s Soya and Linseed loaf. It is the best sliced bread since sliced bread.
2. Fry up the smoked tofu in untoasted sesame oil - slice is up about 3mm thick, using up the whole block. Yes, I know it’s £3.99 for that tiny block and yes we need it all for these sandwiches. Cook both sides until nicely golden brown.
3. While that’s happening, mix in a bowl some white tahini, Coleman’s mustard, cold water and a teeny dash of maple syrup. Sprinkle salt. Spread this on each of the pieces do Vogel’s bread, and put aside
4. You can remove the tofu from the heat now, and set them aside to cool.
5. Now. Chop half a red onion into very thin slices. As thin as you can get it without slicing off your own fingers. Lay these on of the bread slices.
6. Next, lay some salad leaves. Keep the leaves large, so they form a barrier between the bread and the next ingredient: sauerkraut.
7. It’s the cabbage thing in the fridge, with bits of wild garlic in it from the garden. It stinks, I’m sorry, but it’s delicious.
8. After the sauerkraut you can place the tofu on top, and then the rest of the alfalfa that needs using up.
9. Close the sandwich, and slice into 2 on a diagonal.
10. Do it again, because now you will want a sandwich too.
Tofu sandwich poem
You need a certain kind
of bread for this sandwich:
Vogel’s Soya and Linseed loaf.
It is the best sliced bread since sliced bread.
Fry up the smoked tofu
in (untoasted) sesame oil. Slice it up
about 3mm thick, using up the whole block.
Yes, I know it’s £3.99 for
that tiny block and yes.
We need it all for these sandwiches.
Cook both sides until
nicely golden brown.
While that’s happening,
mix in a bowl some
white tahini,
Coleman’s mustard,
cold water and
a teeny dash of maple syrup.
Sprinkle salt.
Spread this on each of
the pieces do Vogel’s bread,
and put aside.
You can remove the tofu
from the heat now,
and set them aside to cool.
Now.
Chop half a red onion
into very thin slices.
As thin as you can get it
without slicing off your own
fingers.
Lay these on of the bread slices.
Next, lay some salad leaves.
Keep the leaves large, so
they form a barrier
between the bread and
the next ingredient:
sauerkraut.
It’s the cabbage thing
in the fridge,
with bits of wild garlic
in it from the garden.
It stinks,
I’m sorry,
but it’s delicious.
After the sauerkraut you
can place the tofu on top,
and then the rest of
the alfalfa that needs using up.
Close the sandwich, and
slice into 2 on a diagonal.
Do it again, because now
you will want a sandwich too.
The poem:
How to see.
You see, to see your world
As if you were you and
Your world was your world,
You need a certain pair of glasses.
The rose-tinted one for Rose.
The violet ones for Violet.
The you coloured ones for you.
It is the best pair you could find
When you were little
I invite you now to
Take off the glasses.
Don’t just peer above them,
Take off the glasses.
Set them aside.
You will find that you need your
Full vision to see the world
That isn’t just your world.
Don’t worry if it’s blurry right now.
One at a time look
At your mother
At your father
At your partner
Do you see?
She is not ‘Ma’.
She is a whole human being
And has been before you were
Even born.
He is not ‘Daddy’
He is a whole human being
And he loved you even when
He didn’t know how to.
Even when he didn’t have to.
She is not ‘darling’, please.
She is a whole human being
And her love reaches beyond
The two of you.
You see, to see the world
You must see the one
Who is looking.
We are blind. I’m sorry,
But you SEE?
You can put your glasses
Back on now.
You can close your eyes and
Blink a few times.
Prepare to do this again, because
Now and again you will want
To see.
I love your poem! Thanks for sharing that. I’m now also anxious to try your sandwich recipe
The sandwich is the real poem, for sure. Let me know how the sandwich making goes!
I really enjoyed this exercise. Not sure how good a poem I wrote, but I enjoyed writing it, which is maybe the point. Here it is:
***
How to make a grilled cheese sandwich
Drop some butter into a small sauce pan and let it melt.
Toast up two pieces of bread.
Smear them with butter on one side.
Lay one slice butter side down on the fry pan.
Turn the heat on low and let it sit.
Add one thick slice of cheddar to the toast in the pan.
Lay on two strips of crispy bacon that you were smart enough to have prepped ahead of time.
Drizzle the cheese and bacon with that knock-off sriracha-sauce you bought a couple of months ago but haven't dared to open yet.
Lay the other slice of toast on top, butter-side up.
Get the heavy spatula out of the rack under the sink where we keep it.
Press down firmly on the sandwich until your arm gets tired.
Flip it over, do it again.
And again.
And again.
Until your sandwich has compressed to a flat, crispy golden square, bacon and cheddar leaking out the sides and dripping into your frying pan where they steam and sizzle away.
Lift it off the hot frying pan and carefully lay it on a plate.
Slice it in half diagonally.
Always diagonally.
Serve with potato chips and a coke.
***
How to Come Home
Drop some coins
into the green ticket machine and let it beep.
Take up two tickets
Paid in full.
Crease them and
Hide them in your wallet.
Put one out to use now
Inside the station.
Slide your suitcase into the rack
and let it ride
Add one souvenir
From the cart to the pile of gifts in your bag.
Pull out the book and the headphones that you were smart enough to have prepped
ahead of time.
Turn on your music
and open your book
To that passage you keep coming back to and fail to read it again because
You have it
Memorized.
Play the music you have queued,
Volume up.
Remember the heavy spatula in the rack under the sink
where we keep it.
Press down firmly on the emotions, tears
until your eyes get tired.
Restart the playlist,
do it again.
And again.
And again.
Until your composure has returned to a flat,
Businesslike resolve,
Memory and worry leaking out the sides and dripping tears out of your eyes where they are brushed and scrubbed away.
Get off the hot, crowded train and
carefully make your way to a place
Where you know how things are done and where you always have
A place.
Always.
Open the door with hugs and
a smile.
Thanks for sharing this! This is a good poem! I love how it stirs up feelings of warmth, nostalgia, and longing in my even though my experience of going home is quite different and doesn't involve trains at all.
What a great idea! I'm going to do this on my Mental Flossings substack.
Thanks! I can't wait to read what you and your readers come up with!