Small Acts of Love

As I bid my husband goodbye this morning and handed him his lunch, he was quiet for a second, then had a recollection from many years ago. It seems he and his brother George were in high school and stopped at his sister's for coffee. As she chatted with them, she warmed the mugs with hot water before pouring their coffee. It was a small gesture, but an act of love both so unassuming as to be easily overlooked, yet so powerful that to this day the recollection reminds him how much his sister loves him.

There are many small ways to show people we love them. Maybe warming their coffee mug. Maybe making them gelatin. The heart of bento, for me, is not to make the prettiest lunch or the most nutritious. The heart of bento is to send something tangible but ephemeral that, even though it will be physically gone in a short time, will always remind your diner that they are loved.

Secret Ingredient

What do you remember as your favorite foods of childhood? Was it your grandmother's turkey gravy, or the green beans you picked in your Uncle Paul's garden? Was it the pizza you had every Saturday after you played baseball? One of my favorite meals of childhood (there were many), was the homemade yogurt and Syrian bread I always had at Auntie Jeanne's; as soon as a kid walked in the door, they were proclaimed to be too skinny and told to help themselves.

Last time I wrote about the importance of having a special treat in every lunch, but the real special ingredient, the essential ingredient, is love for the person you cook for and love for the food you prepare. It comes through, and it doesn't have to be fancy, or even healthful. If you're a child and someone who adores you takes you to McDonald's as a special treat, I believe that meal will be more nourishing than a bowl of organic stir fry served by someone who resents having to cook for you.

Our goal with bento is not to kill ourselves making the most fancy lunch. The lunch you pack should make someone, even yourself, feel loved and cared for. Design your lunches around the joy of the cook as well as the joy of the diner. It can be a difficult dance at times finding foods that are packable, keep well, please a variety of diners, and are a pleasure to make. Know your limits. Mine is that I will not make more than one meal--that is to say, everyone gets the same thing! Or at least, variations of the same thing.

The point is, don't make yourself crazy. While you prepare the seared salmon or the peanut butter sandwich, think about how much you care about the person you are cooking for, and how lucky you are to have this moment to cook for them. Then take one extra second to lay the salmon neatly on the bed of noodles, or to cut the sandwich into perfect triangles, and off you go. This is your contribution to world peace.