You know how there are those situations that make you revert to your college, elementary-school, or worse, toddler-style self?
Like when we’re home for Thanksgiving, my sister Kate and I squabble over who gets to beat the whipped cream for the Maida Heatter chocolate marquise cake even though the rest of the year we adoringly text each other pictures of our food and trade recipes and tips and menu ideas.
Or like how when Jennie manages the soundtrack for high school friends’ birthdays, we dance to 50 Cent “In Da Club” like it’s, er, going out of style.
Here’s another situation that makes me revert to a younger, more self-conscious Cara: opening up a packed lunch.
I’m a food blogger. My packed lunches taste great. It’s just that sometimes they’re a little weird.