Food Is Life !
Hi Readers,
Another post in just under a week, but since I'm couch bound after recent ankle surgery I just have to find ways to keep myself busy.
Hopefully this post will be light hearted and more about reminiscing, so that means you can read on without fear of being challenged with something to reflect on or think about.
As I've been restricted to the couch at home with my leg up for the past four days (only 7 more weeks to go !!!) I've had more than enough time to catch up on schoolwork, watch tv and listen to the radio and music. I need to mix it up or else I'd just go off my nuts. Cabin fever is starting to seep in. I tend to leave the food channel playing on the tv with the sound down while I have the radio on in the background while I do things from the couch. It's amazing what things I've seen being cooked, and it's a great distraction as I can make up in my own mind what they must be saying as they cook the various dishes.
But what it does do is make my mouth water at times when I see some of the dishes presented, especially when they come from places that Jen and I have visited on many of our overseas trips. In some cases I have even seen places that we had actually eaten at as well.
Then it came to me. So much of our life is defined by food. Who remembers places, events and people due to the food that we associate them with?
When I was in Baker's Delight a week or so ago I saw that they were selling Portugese Tarts. They obviously noticed me drooling, and asked if I'd like to buy some. I think I really did want to buy some, but reneged as I was savouring the memories of eating the real things in Lisbon a couple of years ago. I think I was looking at them not with the desire to buy some and eat them, but with loads of memories flooding back. Not just was I remembering eating them for the first time in Portugal, it then brought back all the fantastic memories of that trip.
And what better way to wash them down with Cherry Liqueur dispensed in a chocolate shot cup which you then eat, another Portugese treat.
I must admit I needed to work these off the next day, a bit of food guilt, plus I lined up for more again !!
Now Readers, I'm not for a moment suggesting that you have to fly to the other side of the world to get the idea of what I'm banging on about in this post, but that was the experience that resonates with me so much. I won't go into detail about the roast chestnuts that we also bought that were on sale everywhere. They tasted like hot cardboard, a major disappointment and one which I'm choosing not to write much about.
My focus today is highlighting the good memories that our food experiences ignite.
As I was laying here today I started to think about when I was in Primary school and the occasional sick day was taken. Our Mum was pretty tough if you tried to pull a sickie. She'd often make us gargle salt water, and if you were prepared to go through with that she was often convinced that you were actually sick. Perhaps the salt water gargling made us even sicker!
Anyway, being sick meant you were restricted to the couch, but that also meant she'd make you some chicken soup. And Readers, we're not talking about soup from a tin or packet, but REAL soup. Soup that only a Mum can make. Soup made with love.❤️
The memories of that steaming soup with chunks of chicken. Thick butter that was on the large slices of bread cut from the loaf. Not sliced bread, but thick wedges cut from a loaf. Butter melting into the soup. Wiping the bowl clean with the pillows of bread.
Divine!!!
I remember when Jen and I were expecting our first child 31 years ago that I said to her "You will now become a fantastic cook!". Somewhat shocked ( and possibly offended) she said "Why?"
"Because all mums are just great cooks". Maybe I thought this because both our Mums were great cooks and I just assumed that being a mum made this happen. Anyway. as long as I knew Jen she was a great cook anyway!!
Food can take us back in time.
Recently I made a sandwich of white bread (I'm usually a multi grain sort of guy) with tomato, cheese and black pepper. As soon as I chowed down these memories came flooding back of the time I worked in a bank in Melbourne back in 1982 in Acland Street in St Kilda. For overseas readers, Acland St is a very cosmopolitan street now, a big tourist attraction in Melbourne. However, back then it was pretty sleazy and yet to discover its popularity. There was a shop near our bank and they made amazing basic sandwiches, and the tomato and cheese with black pepper on white bread became my favourite. Perhaps it also became my release as I just hated my job so much, and the joy I had wandering the streets of St Kilda eating these sandwiches still remains a favourite memory. Every time I make them now I can picture them being made on the crowded bench of that shop in Acland St.
I still think if I had to choose my last meal, this would be it.
Myself and my four brothers were all bundled off to boarding school in our early teens, as were two of my sisters. We still have a great laugh regaling our stories of the food we had dished up, and even now when I eat the same meals, memories of different versions from boarding school come flooding back.
Some foods I just won't eat again, others I have gradually come back to.
For instance, I didn't eat hot dogs for a year or two after boarding school as we just had them so often back then. Even as I write this I can still feel how soft the rolls were and how the hot dogs themselves were usually on the cold side. Also the oversize dollop of sauce that the Marist Brothers would put on them, as they wouldn't trust us to use the dispensers ourselves. Even the sick feeling in the stomach after eating them...It's all flooding back to me now. Why I remember the softness of the rolls is a mystery to me, it's the first thing that came back.
Another staple every Wednesday for lunch were hamburgers, or "Deathies" as we called them, short for "Deathburgers". I suppose the name we gave them explains everything!
What I clearly remember about them was the taste. It was something I'd never tasted before, and never have since. Also the fact that if you tried to open them the buns would tear apart as the cheese was clearly of an industrial strength. Perhaps that was why I could never pinpoint that unique taste, it was locked away somewhere inside amid the swamp of cheese and other 'things' that were in there too. I've never been one for Macca's burgers, and I put this down to my experiences with 'Deathies' at boarding school.
Finally, my last boarding school memory ( there are so many more, these resonate most)
We were often given ham steaks, and if there was ever a more inappropriate name for a food, this was it.Think of a tin of Spam.
I swear the ham steaks looked and tasted like they were cut from a lump of Spam.
But Readers, don't despair or feel sorry for us. The ham steaks were usually accompanied with mashed potato ( does 50% lumps still qualify it as mashed?) and, wait for it, a ring of pineapple. It must have been their acknowledgement to Hawaiian cuisine.
These things were salty and rarely looked forward to, but when it's the only thing on offer one has to go for it. Suffice to say I don't think I've ever eaten a 'ham steak' since leaving boarding school 41 years ago.
While I am bagging out these boarding school classics, they still revive so many great memories that we can laugh about now. Even seeing them in shops or stalls now still makes me recall those days with joy.
I can relate so many moments in my life just by thinking of different foods, as there might have been a special significance attached to the moment I ate them.
For example, I have eaten oysters so many times, but there is just one particular wedding that I went to and ate so many, that I'm now wary of them. This one night eclipses all the other times I've enjoyed oysters. If I eat oysters now, that one night straight away comes back to me.
Drinks.
Just like me, I'm sure that you all have memories, good and bad that you've had with different drinks.
A few months ago for Father's Day, our 3 sons presented me with a classic bottle of Bundaberg Rum, as they know I love it. But this wasn't always the case.
My first experience with it when I was about 18 was so bad that I didn't touch it for more than 20 years in the belief that it and I just didn't get on well together. Until one night when I tried it again, sensibly this time and found that I really liked it. This bottle they gave me is treated with such respect that I don't even mix it with Coke, I just have little shots every now and then that I sip and savour.
However, even now when I sip it and enjoy it, I can still remember the taste of it when it just made me feel sick. I remember where I was, who I was with, and just how sick I felt the next day. I also remember the surprise I got so many years later when I tried it again and thought "How much have I been missing!!"
Similar experiences occurred with Southern Comfort, something which I now love.
Jen always tried me to get into wine, as she loved it but never had anyone to drink it with at home, so she was always on her own when it came to wine. Luckily, all our close friends love wine so she could indulge with them.
We have so many bottles of really good wine still in our house as one of my best mates is a winemaker, and by all accounts his wine is some of the best going around.
I can't be the judge of his wine, for if you gave me a glass of the best and the worst wine I wouldn't be able to tell the difference. I've tried a number of times to "like it", it just doesn't work. After Jen died, we had some friends around so I opened a bottle of his best wine for them to drink, as I wouldn't be drinking it. They insisted that I have a small sample as we toasted Jen, so I put some in a shot glass, drank it, but had to have a quick beer chaser as I just can't handle the taste. I'm sure Jen would have been laughing.
My great friend Raj with his Hennings Wine label.
Any of our friends who have tried his wine swear by it, and he doesn't get offended that I can't stand it!! He's just the best.I could go on and on about how I can relate different foods to different periods, places and people in my life. Sometimes these memories surface out of the blue even when I get a sniff of a particular dish.
How about you?
What dishes take YOU back in time?
Which ones bring back the best or worse times and events in your life? Hopefully you are only focussing on the happiest of memories.
As I finish, I'm starting to think of our 3 boys and what memories from their upbringing that they'll recall most when they are older. I know they always joke about my concoctions with pasta that only I have been game enough to eat. Whenever I offer them a taste of my "Pasta Surprise", it's always met with a polite decline. Smart thinking boys!
But they are memories, and memories are forever, and I hope that when they are my age they'll continue to laugh about, joke about and recall with love many of the things we ate together, where were were, who we were with or what we were doing.
Just another ramble Readers, nothing deep and meaningful to reflect on, but hopefully something that will enable you to take time to be calm and think back over the significant moments in your lives.
With food.
Until my next post...
Cheers 😁
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