Culinary Inheritance

THIS is an interesting article at the Guardian about what we've learned about food from our mothers. The comment section is filled with wonderful things I'd long forgotten (suppressed?). My mother was a horrible, horrible cook. Horrible. I don't think she would have denied it either. Courgettes stewed in V-8 juice? Skinless chicken breasts stewed in V-8 juice? V-8 juice? Somehow she'd gotten it into her head that it was good for you, even if it did contain a week's worth of sodium in a glass.

It is only now, as a mother myself that I realise how lucky I was to have a hot lunch most days as a child. My sister still considers the sardines on toast and tomato soup a form of child abuse, but really, I could enjoy that most days. I'm not sure I could stomach it today, but another typical lunch consisted of a slice of toast with tinned tuna, tinned mushroom soup, and tinned peas. Horrible, I know-but strangely wonderful. Again, how any of us survived the 60's and 70's without hypertension from all the sodium in prepared soups and vegetables is a miracle.

I did however learn to make perfect scrambled eggs from my mother, the key trick being to remove them from the heat before they are finished as the eggs will continue to cook a bit on the plate. So simple, yet so commonly ruined.


Anyway, a fun piece to read and have a trip down memory lane.