The Deluded Diva

Calling for entries into the foodie hall of shame

potato chip sandwich

When I was a kid, and had not yet mastered the art of cooking, (my mother wouldn’t let me in the kitchen because I always made such a mess), my two best friends and I loved mayonnaise sandwiches.

As soon as Mother left for her Culture Club meeting, we would head for the kitchen and slather two slices of Wonder bread with real mayo (there was no such thing as the fat free variety in those days). Yummo. I guess you could call it a BLT – hold the bacon, lettuce and tomato. Mother never could figure out why she was always running out of mayo and Wonder bread.

If that didn’t satisfy, we would mix equal parts of cocoa power and sugar and stuff it between our gums and teeth. We called it “snuff.” If we were still craving something, we would play communion and have grape juice and crunched up saltines. (I’m sorry about that one, but we were prohibited from partaking at church in those early years so we made up our own version.)

My cousin Kathie taught me how to make potato-chip sandwiches when I was a kid. Take fresh, soft white bread, pile on as many potato chips as you can, gently balance another piece of bread on top, then push straight down to crush the chips into the bread so you can pick up the sandwich and eat it. Nothing but salt and carbs, but the crunchy/soft contrast was delicious.

If you have an entry into the Foodie Hall of Shame, send it to me. Let’s see who can get the grossest.

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