The Kid with the Stinky Lunch

I just wanted some carrot sticks and a juice box, Mom.

    While sometimes I scroll for hours on the web searching for evidence of something non-depressing and non-cynical to read about, today within minutes I came across an article that I find highly amusing and also kind of sweet. Entitled "The Kid with the Stinky Lunch," this article interviews adults who, as children, were regularly embarrassed by the contents of their lunch bag. Unlike their peers, who ate non-humiliating lunches composed of turkey sandwiches and Oreos, these kids dined on much different cuisine, often because of cultural traditions at home. But as most of us can attest to feeling in those early years - it's the fitting in that counts. One woman explains:
     "I can remember attempting to find a place in a hidden spot to sit in the lunch room because I usually had an Italian type of panini sandwich dripping with olive oil and oregano or a cold meatball sandwich, and for dessert Italian biscotti and a piece of fruit. 
    So terrible was her shame over this delicious-sounding lunch, that she went to great lengths to hide these decadent morsels. But Dammit-all if Italian food doesn't announce itself in other ways! 
    "Of course my lunches were difficult to hide because you could smell that fragrant tomato sauce or the panini with fresh oregano from a mile away. I would place the lunch bag in the cloak room with my coat and try to cover the brown bag so to mask the fragrance."
    Personally, I always had the cafeteria option (my disgust for fish sticks has never wained) and coveted those made-at-home bag lunches. But having read this, I should probably feel grateful because my parents were into Foodie-type food way before it became a thing.
    Another of the article's subjects, a man who grew up in a multi-cultural home, recalled the silver lining of his stinky lunch:
    "Because my meals were often food the other kids could not recognize, at least they did not beat me up for my lunch. I would have such Mediterranean delicacies as kibba, dolmas, feta cheese, stuffed squash and cabbage - even baklava and huge date cookies." 
    He then proceeded with my single favorite line: "Throw in the occasional tamales, empanadas, sausages, containers of various soups, beans and stews, a variety of homemade bread - I ate well."
    Well, here's to growing up and eating whatever we please. Also, the woman mentioned above is now a successful chef.  
    Check out the article in its entirety: The Kid with the Stinky Lunch