July 27, 2009
Black Olive Sandwiches
When I was in the third grade, our family moved to another city. This Christmas time move to “the new house” meant that I would be starting the new year at a new school. Before the school year ended, I had a new best friend named Mary.
Her father was an architect in Los Angeles; in fact he was one of THE premier architechts that shaped the Los Angeles skyline that you see today. The reason I mention this fact is because of their house. It was a forward thinking home, as was the one I was living in. Her father had designed her home and my Father has designed my home, too. Both homes were beautifully designed and we were two lucky little girls. We were lucky because we had found a best friend.
I particularly remember one visit to Mary’s home. We arrived after school one day and like all children, we needed a snack. There was nothing ordinary about Mary and that is probably one reason why I liked her so much — she probably still has that exciting, adventuresome, inquisitive, spirit that complements mine. In retrospect, perhaps that is the reason we became so close.
Anyway….back to two hungry little girls. Well, Mary takes me into this state of the art kitchen to prepare us a sandwich. She takes out the can of chopped black olives, opens them and drains them. She then mixes in a little mayonaise and spreads it on the whole wheat bread. She cuts it my favorite way…into triangles. In a few minutes, we are devouring our black olive sandwich and I have a new favorite snack to go along with my best friend.
In fact, black olive sandwiches are more than a snack. I really enjoy them on a regular basis for lunch. They taste really good with a healthy chip. I always think of Mary as I am mixing the mayonaise into the chopped olives and wonder how she is. Like so many of my friends from my youth, we have lost touch over the years. Maybe she will read this and email Portland Firefly.
Readers, do you want another “black olive sandwich” story? Read on….
Many years later while living in New York, I was craving an olive sandwich. I had been taking care of a house- bound friend for several weeks and mentioned my craving for an olive sandwich by saying that I wanted to go to the store and get everything needed to make us sandwiches. He gave me the “typical New York” answer, “The grocery store is 8 blocks away, the deli is just around the corner. Just go to the deli and get our sandwiches.” What a novel idea, I thought.
I left the apartment and found the deli easily. That was the easy part. Since I had grown up eating these delicious sandwiches, I figured that everyone (especially a New York Deli) knew how to make them. Wrong! Well, I walk into the deli, which wasn’t busy, thank goodness! I ordered a chopped olive sandwich. No chopped olives , but “I have sliced olives. Will that do?” “Sure”, I answer,” you can just put the mayonnaise on the bread and put the olives on it.” “I only have cream cheese.” “OK,” I respond, “cream cheese and sliced black olives, two sandwiches, please.” “You want black olives? I’ve never heard of that; usually I make olive sandwiches with green olives” came the reply from the white coated man behind the tall meat cooler.
Green olives on cream cheese is not what I was craving. I also wonder if this is the sandwich that my “patient” is wanting. I wanted black olives with mayo. Since this event happened prior to cell phones, I had no choice but to ask if I could use the deli phone to “phone a friend” to see what kind of olive sandwich he was expecting. Only because they were not busy was the reason I was allowed to use the phone to clarify the situation. The order was given, made up, and taken home. The two sandwiches were unwrapped — both on whole wheat, both with cream cheese; one had sliced green olives, the other one had sliced black olives. We were both happy!
