My food has a story. When I cook it takes me back in time, to a time of pink weatherboards, wood stoves and magical ingredients, to a time when food brought people together.
Nan's house was always inviting, the old pink weatherboard farmhouse stood proudly as it nurtured generations of children and grandchildren and fed the masses of shearers, drop-in's and family
The old wood stove ticked away, making the small kitchen/dining room cosy in winter and sweltering in summer. Nan never had a conventional oven back then, just the wood stove or that fancy convection microwave, it was proper flash in those days.
Nan had a big room, she called it the phone room (because the phone was in there), it was huge, bigger than the kitchen and it was full of the stuff that kids dreaming of becoming chefs dream of! It was basically the pantry, overflowing with food and baking ware, every kind of tray and cake tin imaginable, mismatched jars of last seasons canned peaches and bags of dried apricots all from the orchard outside and cookbooks, so many cookbooks, I never understood why a lady who never opened a cookbook to cook, had so many, now I do.
It was full of the stuff that kids dreaming of becoming chefs dream of!
If there is ever a reason to bunker down, I'm heading to Nan's. Even now she's in her new house and the buzz of the farm is lesser, her two fridges and her trendy new butlers pantry that bears the whispers of the phone room from long ago are overflowing with the ingredients needed to create a feast fit for a visit from the queen at a minutes notice.
I grew up in a hardworking farming family, Dad worked tirelessly putting crops in the dry earth only to curse the rains that rarely came only to do it again next year. Mum worked long hours in town so we could make ends meet, we had a pantry and fridge that matched. Going to Nan's was my absolute favourite thing to do, she had all these exotic ingredients, like real vanilla beans, saffron and special butter just for baking, it was a far cry from our humble, feed a family of five on a budget, staples.
Many times Nan and I would cook together during my childhood, I treasure these memories and the passion for food that they ignited and that I would one day turn into a long serving career. We'd gather our ingredients, combine it with love in the worn blue porcelain mixing bowl and out of the old wood stove we'd churn, yo yo's, tea cake and scones as well as endless trays of mars-bar slice and rum balls for the fridge, in case visitors called in.
I always loved the way that Nan's food brought everyone together, I love how it still does today. When Nan stepped out onto that crumbling wooded veranda, just as she had done hundreds of times before, like a queen about to impart wisdom over the hoards of loyal subjects waiting below, I swear the whole world held it's breath in anticipation of her very next word.... "Dinner"!
My Food has a story and I'd love to share the recipes and the stories with you.