Compartmentalized

I was born a snob. I'm not sure how it happened, but even as I child I had a very clear idea of 'how things should be.' Of course, bending the world to your will isn't always easy, especially when you're young. Enter Mam-ma. I have written a lot about the food she prepared and all of the delicious treats I remember, from Hummingbird Cake to store-bought biscuits. But, what I haven't talked about is how she served them.

I'm not trying to degrade the memory of my Mam-ma, or her methods. I'm just trying to be honest: I never liked to eat out of divided plastic trays. For her, it was easier and when you are trying to serve a large number of people a great variety of foods, what could be better than providing them plates with spaces for everything from cutlery to a mug. These could be slipped into the dishwasher and voila. Generally, we didn't even dirty serving dishes unless it was a special Sunday supper, you simply made your way from the salads and cold dishes on the counter to the right, to the stove where the main courses (turkey and ham and noodles and dumplings) and side dishes were kept warm on the left I've already discussed in length the placement of the pies and the dessert.

This was about convenience; she wanted to get the people fed, but she absolutely did not want to be bogged down with piles of dishes to do after. She wanted to enjoy the company of her family and share a meal with them. Period. But trays? It felt so school cafeteria. To me, it lacked specialness: all of the time and effort spent shopping and chopping and cooking deserved a better frame. A nicer frame.

I don't ever remember eating off of the white china decorated with blue roses in the china cabinet. My brother has it now along with her silver plate, but I'm not sure he uses it. (And his wife's grandmother had the same pattern. China kismet!) But, this was what I wanted: actual dishes, not plastic trays or Corelle; nice flatware in a variety of shapes and sizes; cloth napkins folded prettily at each place; covered serving pieces; crystal glasses from tiny to large; cocktails in the library before dinner was served; little salt and pepper shakers; maids from France to serve the hors d'oeuvres; glass coasters; English butlers to announce dinner; wine glasses; champagne flutes; caviar; souffles; and GOLD-PLATED EVERYTHING! Basically, I wanted life to be a dinner party from a 1930s romantic comedy. Even at the age of ten.

Sigh. This isn't the way things were, but it is a lot of the reason behind the way things are.

Enter bento. How can the Japanese make me reconsider the presentation problem of my youth? How can the dissatisfaction with the plastic trays be transferred to the beautiful faux-lacquer black and red boxes used at Japanese restaurants? Compartmentalized dishes filled with rice; a simple salad; tempura vegetable; pickled ginger; sushi and many other savory treats. But why does it hurt my feelings? How can I love it so, but still feel the same about the plastic trays? I know in reality you cannot equate the two, but in my mind there is a Ninja battle between them.

So now, twenty-some-odd-thirty years later, I reverse my position. I say: bring on the divided plastic tray in all of its iterations, from bento box to TV tray to standard cafeteria fare! I declare my Mam-ma the Avatar of Ease and Convenience for her forward-thinking and international lessons on making sure everyone got what they wanted to eat and not spending two hours setting the table and another two hours cleaning up.

Let everyone have a tray filled with delicious food and be happy, from prisoners to princesses!