I know I’m supposed to be a grown-up, but (especially when it’s on sale) every now and then I like to indulge in a bowl of Chef Boyardee ravioli. That’s what I had for brunch earlier today, a bowl of beef ravioli with some homemade garlic toast.
Progress isn’t always Progress
Maybe because it’s Sunday, or more pertinently, perhaps it’s because next Sunday is my birthday, for some reason I was in a very sentimental mood. It started with having to wrestle with the ravioli tin’s pull tab top. An image of my mother armed with a can opener immediately sprang to mind. Once the contents had been emptied into the saucepan, she scraped the sides of tin with a spatula until the container looked like it had never contained anything, let alone pasta with tomato sauce.
Don’t forget, I grew up in a time when dinosaurs roamed the earth and making the garbage as compact as possible was the closest thing to recycling we ever got. As the beef ravioli heated through on the stove, mum would flip the tin upside down, pick up the can open, and “open” the bottom. Then she placed the tin on the floor and stepped on it until it was flat.
Tin Can Logic
Upon recalling this tin can ritual, I turned it over to emulate my mother. However, it wasn’t flush, but inset, with a rounded edge, which wouldn’t allow the can opener to get a grip. In this age of fervent recycling, designing metal containers that can be collapsed like cardboard boxes before you put them into the recycling bins would make sense.