Post by Chips on Feb 14, 2004 13:26:43 GMT 9.5
MEMORIES OF THE WORLD'S BEST COOK
Perhaps I was more fortunate than the rest of the kids in the neighborhood because from the age of five I was raised by my grandparents. My parents had separated and while I'm not saying they didn't love me, the old folk seemed to be more patient and had more time to show me how to do things.
Every week, normally on a Tuesday, the open fire in the kitchen was coaxed into life and the heat directed toward the fire-oven which was situated along side the fire. The fact that a modern electric stove stood in the kitchen made no difference to my grandmother, good food always came from the fire-oven and she was the greatest proponent of, 'Time will not change thee' that ever lived.
One of my jobs was to bring in the coal from the heap stacked in a special area of the back garden and feed the fire until Granny was satisfied with the mountain of glowing coals. While this task was being completed the huge scrubbed board kitchen table was stripped of its covering revealing the bare unfinished timber surface. Then out came all the pots and pans and literally mountains of magical ingredients.
I was referred to as 'Gran’s little helper' and always had the most important job on baking days. To me fell the responsibility of ensuring all the spoons, pots and pans were licked clean as soon as the final mixture was turned into the baking tins. I was very serious about my job and I'm sure the utensils always looked cleaner after I'd licked them than they did before Gran started cooking.
There were also many other tasks I had on baking day. I was the one that added water to the pastry when directed, pricked the family names into the pie coverings with a fork, greased the baking tins with butter and make my own jam tarts and turnovers with left over pastry.
The pies, cakes and other goodies would all take their turn in the fire oven and it wasn't long before a mouth-watering aroma filled the kitchen. While the cakes and pastries were cooking I had another job to do which didn't make any sense. I had to wash all the pots and pans Granny had used in hot soapy water but for the life of me, I didn't see why I had to wash them when I’d spent ages licking them clean.
Needless to say the pies and cakes were always baked to perfection for no one could cook like my Granny. When I got a little older I asked her why her food always tasted so good and she told me it was because of her secret ingredient. Curious, I asked what that ingredient was but she refused to tell me, saying that I would discover the secret when I grew up.
I now know what that secret ingredient was but I must confess that it took me a long time to figure it out. Every mother has the secret formula and so does dad. That little something extra special, the earth shattering magic formula... was just plain simple love.
My Gran involved me in a task that too her would have been nothing more than a weekly chore. She taught me the basics of cooking in a most enjoyable and adventurous way and the happy memories I have of baking days and the skills I learned - will remain with me the whole of my life, just because of that remarkable lady.
© MPS ‘Chips’ 1990.
Perhaps I was more fortunate than the rest of the kids in the neighborhood because from the age of five I was raised by my grandparents. My parents had separated and while I'm not saying they didn't love me, the old folk seemed to be more patient and had more time to show me how to do things.
Every week, normally on a Tuesday, the open fire in the kitchen was coaxed into life and the heat directed toward the fire-oven which was situated along side the fire. The fact that a modern electric stove stood in the kitchen made no difference to my grandmother, good food always came from the fire-oven and she was the greatest proponent of, 'Time will not change thee' that ever lived.
One of my jobs was to bring in the coal from the heap stacked in a special area of the back garden and feed the fire until Granny was satisfied with the mountain of glowing coals. While this task was being completed the huge scrubbed board kitchen table was stripped of its covering revealing the bare unfinished timber surface. Then out came all the pots and pans and literally mountains of magical ingredients.
I was referred to as 'Gran’s little helper' and always had the most important job on baking days. To me fell the responsibility of ensuring all the spoons, pots and pans were licked clean as soon as the final mixture was turned into the baking tins. I was very serious about my job and I'm sure the utensils always looked cleaner after I'd licked them than they did before Gran started cooking.
There were also many other tasks I had on baking day. I was the one that added water to the pastry when directed, pricked the family names into the pie coverings with a fork, greased the baking tins with butter and make my own jam tarts and turnovers with left over pastry.
The pies, cakes and other goodies would all take their turn in the fire oven and it wasn't long before a mouth-watering aroma filled the kitchen. While the cakes and pastries were cooking I had another job to do which didn't make any sense. I had to wash all the pots and pans Granny had used in hot soapy water but for the life of me, I didn't see why I had to wash them when I’d spent ages licking them clean.
Needless to say the pies and cakes were always baked to perfection for no one could cook like my Granny. When I got a little older I asked her why her food always tasted so good and she told me it was because of her secret ingredient. Curious, I asked what that ingredient was but she refused to tell me, saying that I would discover the secret when I grew up.
I now know what that secret ingredient was but I must confess that it took me a long time to figure it out. Every mother has the secret formula and so does dad. That little something extra special, the earth shattering magic formula... was just plain simple love.
My Gran involved me in a task that too her would have been nothing more than a weekly chore. She taught me the basics of cooking in a most enjoyable and adventurous way and the happy memories I have of baking days and the skills I learned - will remain with me the whole of my life, just because of that remarkable lady.
© MPS ‘Chips’ 1990.