I've not put up any poems this week because I've been into another form of creativity; producing Christmas meals and goodies.
That period also saw the start of my now enormous collection of cookery books; I read them like novels. The advent of the internet had me scouring websites for good recipes. I inherited my mother's cook books, some dating back to the turn of the C20th and mostly French or country house cookery, with the odd Italian one. I still use them. I also have her own recipes and cookery notes, also still much used.
My interest continued for decades, though there's one area where I could never better my mother - baking. She was a trained pâtissière. I hadn't much interest in sweets or desserts and still don't, though I will churn out the occasional Chistmas cake or complex dessert, if pressed. My ma could produce all the sweet fancies, but it got less as we grew older because we were all into savoury flavours. Sour, bitter and sharp were our preferred tastes. She made all our pickles, sauces and chutneys, as well as bottled fruit and veg., jams, marmalades, fruit cheeses and fruit leathers, something I still do to a limited extent.
Having
a mother who was a chef and an excellent home cook (the two aren't
necessarily synonymous), I was brought up on good food, learning how to
shop and budget carefully from a young age. I wasn't allowed to cook
after one of my brothers praised my chips for being crisper than my
mother's - and told her so. She brooked no rivals in her kitchen, but I
was made to skivvy, prepping the meat and vegetables, pot and
oven-watching, deeming the meal ready for serving. It was useful; I
learned to cook by what I later found out was the Japanese form of
apprenticeship for all types of crafts and arts, "stealing with the eyes."
Once
I got to college and left home, I explored as many cuisines as I could,
here and abroad, mostly helped by buying Penguin and other paperback
cookery books, while using my ma's cooking techniques and ranging London
for the best, often the cheapest, restaurants I (and friends) could
find. I was much into replicating, experimenting with and adapting
recipes, as well as producing the old favourites.
That period also saw the start of my now enormous collection of cookery books; I read them like novels. The advent of the internet had me scouring websites for good recipes. I inherited my mother's cook books, some dating back to the turn of the C20th and mostly French or country house cookery, with the odd Italian one. I still use them. I also have her own recipes and cookery notes, also still much used.
My interest continued for decades, though there's one area where I could never better my mother - baking. She was a trained pâtissière. I hadn't much interest in sweets or desserts and still don't, though I will churn out the occasional Chistmas cake or complex dessert, if pressed. My ma could produce all the sweet fancies, but it got less as we grew older because we were all into savoury flavours. Sour, bitter and sharp were our preferred tastes. She made all our pickles, sauces and chutneys, as well as bottled fruit and veg., jams, marmalades, fruit cheeses and fruit leathers, something I still do to a limited extent.
Now,
in old age, I really can't be bothered. Yes, I cook daily, but the old
interest is mostly gone. What I tend to cook are favourite recipes from
childhood - casseroles (oxtail being a favourite), soups, pork or lamb
chops, roasts, steamed fish, mushrooms in cream on toast, moules
marinière and the like. There's nearly always a weekly curry or pasta of
some kind. If anyone wants a dessert, they're more likely to get a
bowl of fresh fruit and cheese and biscuits. And I'm way over the dinner
party scene, a feature of my twenties and thirties.
The
reason for the decline in interest? Cooking now bores me. It takes me
away from more interesting things I want to explore. Still, my husband doesn't
complain, so that's some kind of plus, I suppose.
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