A packed lunch, well deserved

I guess I was about fifteen before I realised that my family eats better than most.

I don’t mean this boastfully, in fact, I (ok, very occasionally) feel guilty about the somewhat indulgent way we eat. Delicate dim sum is a staple, fresh sushi is standard, Peking duck is not unusual and three-course French lunches are a fortnightly affair. It is almost hedonistic. (Plus, I know eating this way on my own dime will be financially impossible, at least for a few decades.)

It took inviting my secondary school classmates home for project work to enlighten me on how lucky I was. They met even seemingly everyday food, like egg, tuna or chicken salad sandwiches and fried bee hoon (rice noodles) with great enthusiasm.

“I normally hate tomato, but I don’t on this sandwich!” and “This bee hoon has all my favourite things in it, may I have some more?” were just two surprising reactions. Maybe they were being polite but something in the spontaneity of the response tells me it was genuine.

It wouldn’t be too surprising if my school’s canteen fare was any indication of the average diet. Choices included soggy spaghetti drowned in a pool of diluted ketchup and a version of mixed rice that comprised of dishes covered in a slick of cornstarch thickened sauce, sometimes neon pink, coagulated at room temperature.

I sought comfort in bowls of soupy noodles, topped with mushrooms and ground meat and ate it almost exclusively. Tangy tom yum soup poured over the same noodles provided a little variety.

Eventually though, I got smart and began packing my own lunch. Sandwiches bursting with hummus and tomato, avocado and Boursin or pate made the regular rotation. I went through a prosciutto and sweet (i.e. unsalted) butter phase (I had just read Amanda Hesser’s Cooking for Mr Latte and was quite taken with her chapter on in flight dining). Cream cheese on banana bread was another favourite.

Once, I brought quiche. This actually caused quite a stir. People crowded around my table to watch me eat and ask questions (they had never seen quiche before). I was annoying evasive, explaining quietly what it was and then looking down, concentrating on my lunch, so there would be no further questions. It was especially uncomfortable for me, a self-conscious recovering anorexic. I secretly thought they were being overly nosey.

In hindsight, their fascination might have been partly due to hunger. Whether it was for lack of time (our lunch break lasted only twenty minutes) or fear of weight gain, many girls skipped lunch. Now, this is pretty ridiculous, as apparently “you're so thin, it's like you're Asian” is a saying now. Or so Rachel Getting Married will have me believe.

But curiosity and skinniness aside, I met some of the nicest most decent people I’ve ever known in secondary school. The type who doesn’t forget even a casual friend’s birthday and who is always ready with a gift. The kind who tries to keep in touch no matter how recalcitrant a companion you may become, withholding information and what not.

The sort who is delicate about your clearly abnormal weight lost, gentle prodding with questions but never becoming aggressive or accusatory. (It was only later that I learnt not all people were so kind. Some girls, more privileged girls, I met at summer camp later that year were decidedly more explicit about their views on the issue of eating disorders, calling sufferers “disgusting bitches”. Not what you need when you’re trying to recover.)

And the type who receives the products of your first forays into baking with appreciative smiles and not complaints of allergies, a hatred of any cake that is not chocolate or an avoidance of carbs. None of that rubbish, these people eat your food.

And in doing so, it feels like they accept you. I like to think that I brought cake to class to share my good eating fortune and to spread “the love”. But really, I know I did it out of selfishness. After a long hiatus from eating, I insisted on experimenting in the kitchen to get comfortable with the idea of being around food again and there were simply not enough mouths to eat it all at home. My classmates allowed me to try new recipes without fear of wastage.

By consuming my food, they helped me so much. And they didn’t even know it. Looking back now, I just wish I could have packed lunches for all who were interested, instead of being shy and cryptic about what I was eating. They certainly deserved it.

Chicken Liver Pate
Adapted from flavours magazine Nov-Dec 2005

Pate is impressive and slightly exotic. It is exactly what I would have brought to class for my more adventurous friends at school. This recipe’s ingredients list has been whittled down to the very basics but I don’t think it is worst off for it. Spread on a roll or sandwiched between thinly sliced dark rye bread, it makes a great portable lunch. It was one of my favourite things to take to school, though the pate I used then was more likely to come from a can than be home-made.



75g butter
1/2 a small onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
250g chicken livers
Salt and pepper, to taste

Extra melted butter, to seal

Trim the chicken livers of membranes and clots. In a frying pan, melt 2 tbsps of the butter over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring until soft, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add the chicken livers. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring until the livers are browned outside but slightly pink within, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and cool slightly. In a food processor, pulse the liver mixture. Add the remaining butter and pulse to blend. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Pack pate into a ramekin. Cover with some melted butter to seal. Cover with cling film and refrigerate for at least 6 hours, or until firm.

Serves 4