Coworkers explained to me very slowly and slightly loud, in case I was a deaf elder or foreign speaker, that salads in jars were a make-ahead brown bagging life-changing revolution. Geez, and I thought they'd just melted all their Rubbermaid containers in the microwave.
Lunches. Break room. Tedium. Looming.
Target. Two dollar. One quart. Enlightenment?
If canning jars are the path, I'm willing to layer my ingredients according to the words of the wise who have gone before: homemade lemon vinaigrette (*bonus pts. for spelling correctly without looking up), then chopped carrots, sugar snap peas, zucchini (*another spelling word), edamame, grape tomatoes, black olives, oven-broiled salmon, quinoa, lemon wedge, lettuce jammed in at the top.
Will I lose points if the Ball jar tips over in my lunch bag? Will Pinterest know I just had that 1/2 cup of quinoa in the back of the cupboard left from some other culinary experiment? How many days before my little apartment stops smelling like smoky broiled salmon? (* if you guessed more than two)
Findings:
- A quart of salad is a lot of chewing.
- Salmon is worth the trouble.
- Dumping a quart of salad onto a plate is a risky business.
- Tomatoes roll across the floor leaving a vinaigrette trail.
- Healthy quinoa jumps all over like particles in a physics super collider info-graphic.
- Clean-up on aisle three.
- It's okay that I didn't keep all the canning jars from my ancestors' cellars.
- Looking forward to a boring old ham and cheese sandwich tomorrow.
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