Food is one of the last few pleasures left when illness leaves one laying in bed in a small room with little else available in terms of sensory gratification. Food is also an important part of caregiving.
I had just discovered I was pregnant with my first child. Most women in my shoes would be making lists of names, mentally designing the nursery or simply immersing themselves in baby bliss. I was reveling because I could finally eat whatever the hell I wanted.
This year, sloppy eaters everywhere are celebrating the 250th anniversary of the invention of the sandwich by its eponymous Earl in 1762. Even so, the following must be said: Sandwich did not invent the sandwich.