Shooter's Sandwich
"As adults we get a bum deal when it comes to packed lunches. There are no sparkly containers or yoghurts with feet..." - Morgan tackles adult packed lunches
As a child, I was a fussy little shit. The list of things I would eat could fit on the back of a teabag, and mainly involved cheese, e numbers and an occasional slice of cucumber. These days I’ll hoof any old thing into my gob (keep it clean, guys) but back in the day it was a battle of wills to get anything past my gnashers. This meant that school dinners were an absolute no go. There was zero chance of me eating mashed potato served in scoops, or that lumpy yellow custard, which everyone suspected to be closely linked to the class’ flatulence levels the proceeding afternoon.
Resultantly, I was a firm fan of the packed lunch. Sandwich, crisps, fruit, cereal bar. Sometimes my Mum might mix things up with a packet of raisins or a Petits Filous. It was glorious. And all held together in a Thundercats lunchbox, and a garish Disney flask which always, always leaked all over your P.E. kit. Good times.
As adults we get a bum deal when it comes to packed lunches. There are no sparkly containers or yoghurts with feet (do they still make Munch Bunch?). It generally comes down to whatever you can find in the fridge which doesn’t smell of egg and can feasibly be packed into a Tupperware.
So, how do we liven it up for the over 11s? Well, I’m pretty sure the answer doesn’t lie with Pret-a-fucking-Manger and a haphazard sprinkling of rocket. Instead, I think it comes down to the construction of the humble sandwich. We need to get more creative with our loaves; simply laying one slice of Mighty White on top of another just doesn’t cut the mustard for excitement levels during the daily grind.
Some friends and I came across the recipe for this ‘Shooter’s Sandwich’ in a Sunday supplement a couple of years ago, and immediately organised an ill-advised March picnic to mark its consumption. Whilst we all subsequently agreed, with chattering teeth, that the picnic was a terrible idea, the sandwich was a resounding success. I assume it is named thus as it used to be consumed by hungry hunters, off in pursuit of a stag or something. Either that or its contents were traditionally the result of the shoot – but I’m not sure anybody in their right mind would hunt a cow...
It might seem like an overtly carnivorous option, but fear not, dear veggies, as this method can work with all sorts: a bit of halloumi and roast peppers; some goat’s cheese and caramelised onion. Or you could use fake meat stuff if you’re that way inclined. Basically you can bung all sorts in here.
Morgan Pickard
As a child, I was a fussy little shit. The list of things I would eat could fit on the back of a teabag, and mainly involved cheese, e numbers and an occasional slice of cucumber. These days I’ll hoof any old thing into my gob (keep it clean, guys) but back in the day it was a battle of wills to get anything past my gnashers. This meant that school dinners were an absolute no go. There was zero chance of me eating mashed potato served in scoops, or that lumpy yellow custard, which everyone suspected to be closely linked to the class’ flatulence levels the proceeding afternoon.
Resultantly, I was a firm fan of the packed lunch. Sandwich, crisps, fruit, cereal bar. Sometimes my Mum might mix things up with a packet of raisins or a Petits Filous. It was glorious. And all held together in a Thundercats lunchbox, and a garish Disney flask which always, always leaked all over your P.E. kit. Good times.
As adults we get a bum deal when it comes to packed lunches. There are no sparkly containers or yoghurts with feet (do they still make Munch Bunch?). It generally comes down to whatever you can find in the fridge which doesn’t smell of egg and can feasibly be packed into a Tupperware.
So, how do we liven it up for the over 11s? Well, I’m pretty sure the answer doesn’t lie with Pret-a-fucking-Manger and a haphazard sprinkling of rocket. Instead, I think it comes down to the construction of the humble sandwich. We need to get more creative with our loaves; simply laying one slice of Mighty White on top of another just doesn’t cut the mustard for excitement levels during the daily grind.
Some friends and I came across the recipe for this ‘Shooter’s Sandwich’ in a Sunday supplement a couple of years ago, and immediately organised an ill-advised March picnic to mark its consumption. Whilst we all subsequently agreed, with chattering teeth, that the picnic was a terrible idea, the sandwich was a resounding success. I assume it is named thus as it used to be consumed by hungry hunters, off in pursuit of a stag or something. Either that or its contents were traditionally the result of the shoot – but I’m not sure anybody in their right mind would hunt a cow...
It might seem like an overtly carnivorous option, but fear not, dear veggies, as this method can work with all sorts: a bit of halloumi and roast peppers; some goat’s cheese and caramelised onion. Or you could use fake meat stuff if you’re that way inclined. Basically you can bung all sorts in here.
Morgan Pickard
