Clearly this week of feeling sorry for myself has got me hankering for comfort food from my childhood. I remember sitting by the gas fire at my “big gran’s” and eating strawberry jam sandwiches possibly whilst watching “It’s a Knockout!” I seem to only recall watching “It’s a Knockout!” at my grandparents though I can’t believe we only watched television once a week. “It’s a Knockout!” was on Fridays, and Fridays was bath night! And whether Fridays was also bread and jam night I cannot remember for sure but it’s one of the few meals I recall enjoying at my gran’s. it’s a shame as I believe she used to be a good cook but by the time she used to occasionally feed me, she had got into a tinned new potatoes/butterscotch Angel Delight/slice of jellied ham/reconstituted Smash mash rut and I really didn’t enjoy her food. The jam sandwiches were good though. And so were the custard tarts.
I also remember eating jam sandwiches with ham in hospital. I was there after having my appendix removed and why I had jam and ham sandwiches (other than in a odd Dr Seuss rhyming moment) is unfortunately lost in the mists of time! Perhaps I believed them to be therapeutic!
I also have a feint recollection of another jam sandwich related memory involving a blond haired boy but I will have to rely on F to fill in the gap as I honestly can’t remember. Perhaps you can help me out F?
Nowadays I don’t really like the jam contained in a sandwich – lucky as I only have one slice of bread, so instead I just slather it upon my well buttered remaining white slice and enjoy. Bonne Maman jam is really chock full of (wild, apparently) strawberries and tastes as great as I remembered actually it's probably way superior to the jam my big gran used to feed me and I would never consider eating it with ham now, that would be weird! And of course, just in case M is worried, I didn’t use the same knife for the butter and for the jam. I’ve been taught well!