下面有三段文字，第一段是學生寫的一篇關於school lunch 的作文，第二段是我對學生文章的重寫，第三段來自我”娘家家族”成員之一，美國作家Michael Paterniti的一篇食評。
雖然你們能從我的重寫，看到 Paterniti 的影子，但我和他的差距不是一般的大。當然，我不會因此感到氣餒，因造詣高超如沈尹默也覺得自己比娘家成員遜色 – 這應是他老是勸友人直接向他娘家學習的原因！
My favourite time of the school isn’t lesson time, but lunch time. Lesson time is a torture, with maths being the most difficult and history being the most boring; lunch time is heavenly, best when roast chicken is served. On days when roast chicken is on the menu, before the lunch bell rings, we children can already smell its scent in the air. We then hear our hungry tummies rumbling.
Fire the school cook.
This is what my school would have to do if teachers want students to remain attentive in the period preceding lunch time, for our school cook is so adept at whipping up memorable meals that our minds and bodies begin yearning for his creations long before the lunch bell rings.
We already begin imagining the satisfying sensation of dislodging with our teeth the crispy skin off a roast chicken and having its warm juices burst in our face; the visual delight of a serving of lasagna so loaded with cheese that it arrives on a plate with cheesy strings clinging on all fronts; the pleasure of having our senses overpowered by whiffs of chicken korma as we place a spoonful of creamy curry near our lips.
If only my teachers were as brilliant as the school cook in designing lessons and assignments that appeal to my interests and tastes, the entire school day would be my favourite time.
“There was dried quinoa in a paper cone, and, when I tilted it back into my mouth, the quinoa lightly pelted my tongue and echoed in my ears like a fine rain turning crunchy.”
“The meal ended in a strange, caramelized cube that I lifted with my thumb and forefinger and gently slid onto my tongue. Only after shattering it between my teeth did the object reveal itself: yogurt bursting from its candied shell in a warm, smooth flood.”