Oh, I couldn't possibly . . . well, maybe one more . . .

White bread. Crusts cut off. Arranged on trays with paper doilies and gherkins or bread and butter pickles.

That’s just the way our friendship works. Get us planning one of our rare and special times together and we immediately default to food, and what to eat. Our menu could be limitless – vegan delights whipped up by caterers with organic ingredients as exotic as goji berries and royal jelly from Peruvian bees. Our taste buds could savour grass-fed prime rib au jus or terrine de foie d’agneau prepared lovingly by Cordon Bleu chefs, or the freshest seafood the Atlantic or Bay of Fundy has to offer, but no.

We want funeral sandwiches.

It’s not a matter of expense. Each of us has income to spare. Nor is it pedestrian taste when it comes to eating. I’ve shared meals with these women ranging from paninis to pot roast, from satay to salads. We like variety and eating well.

I know we all can cook reasonably well, too. None of us is daunted by making dinner for eight to ten people, with several courses, and having a table that would please our mothers with its careful settings and centerpieces.

Yet when we gather, just we three, the unanimous decision for us is funeral sandwiches. You know the ones we mean: egg salad, chopped fine with bits of celery and maybe some onion powder, mayonnaise (perhaps even Mrs. H.’s homemade). Chicken, sliced white meat only, a touch of salt and black pepper, with just a smear of Miracle Whip (tangier than mayo). Lobster – oooh, yes – just chunky enough that it has not been reduced to a paste, sometime with no more garnish than fresh lemon and pepper and on buttered bread. And the pièce de résistance – rolled asparagus -- a must on any respectable sandwich platter!

        

“If there are no asparagus sandwiches at my memorial reception, I am not dying!” I have asserted to these women, so dear to me, and to my family as well.

Cream cheese and cherry? Hmmmmm . . . not a favorite. Ribbon sandwiches with cheese and devilled ham, so popular for bridge in the 50s? Not on our list. They’re too cheery, too cheeky almost for a funeral.

What better pleasure than to sit on a summer afternoon, looking out over the Minas tides, and nibble on dainty square, round and diamond shapes of tea sandwiches with lemonade or fizzy water? When the participants are two of your dearest old friends who are in exact accord that this is most fitting, few things compare.

(for Mona and Lizard)