Ham Sandwiches

I took few pictures for the day, and none seemed to bring a story out of me. But I did pick up some groceries, including ham and tomatoes so I could make that old reliable meal called Two Ham Sandwiches.

To be sure, none of the ingredients in the picture would pass a fussy muster. The mayonnaise is cheap and store-bought. The bread is mass marketed, sliced bread of medium-fair quality. The black pepper is pre-ground and ordinary.

The tomato slices are not cut from the most unnatural, tasteless, and disreputable Florida-grown tomatoes, such as you might play softball with. These are from about two tiers up: still unnatural, but with a faint nod at flavor.

As for the ham itself, it's from a can, produced by Hormel, a company that holds a near-monopoly on this sort of ham (at least in this region), and has a history of union-busting. The union that represents workers at Hormel, UFCW, is perhaps the most corrupt and disgusting "company union" on the planet. I'm just remembering all that as I type. But even if there were no problems at the packing plant, this ham would not be eaten by someone with access to a farmer market in Pembrokeshire, for example. It just isn't good enough. It's American maintenance ham.

It's possible that half the human race does not eat ham, either because they're vegetarian, or their religion forbids it, or because they can't afford the stuff. I, on the other hand, have no dietary restrictions, and I usually can afford ham. I've been eating ham sandwiches all my life, and somehow I've settled on this particular way of making them: with mayo, tomato, and black pepper. This plate is unusual for me only by not using rye bread.

This is a bachelor lunch. It is plain, but it's not horrible. It keeps the stomach in order between breakfast and supper. It has been food for as much though as is required for this ham sandwich blip.