Favourite Things (these are a few of my) ….
So here I am, I decided to take a gap, it is Saturday after all, and whilst I am technically “off duty” I am running round getting supplies for some last minute bookings, and other special orders for the coming week.
Not surprisingly, I find myself people watching as I peacefully sip my yummy cappucino – well, actually “kiddie” watching – they are the most fascinating after all – they generally have not had time to develop neuroses like us adults, they are free spirits, more free to express themselves, they really either “love” or “hate” something, are either “really impressed” or just “don’t have a care”, they laugh deeply, and will dive into a plate of food with great gusto and (perhaps more importantly) no guilt …
There are two young boys at the table next to mine and I ask their Dad if I can speak to them – Mathew & Victor – what are their favourite foods – what makes them unspeakably happy when their Mum cooks them a certain something – I think I might want to go and live with them … Mum cooks delicious home made burgers, funky cupcakes, salads with a yummy balsamic dressing, a killer spagetti bolognaise, beef or chicken casseroles, and even the most delicious prawns and crayfish when the occasion calls for it … but even the thought of a toasted cheese and tomato or hotdog rustled up by Mum brings a smile to these two boys faces – it is really a delight to see, their happy thought associations, their pride in what their Mum puts together for them …
And so this gets me to thinking … of my own set of happy childhood memories, happy times around the family table or those of family friends, or on what seemed like really exotic travels …
One of the things my Mum used to make was the most awesome of beef casseroles with, wait for it, home made herb dumplings – it was real comfort food. The casserole was simple and nourishing, and the smell of it cooking would time after time, overcome my pathological fear that the pressure cooker which she so loved using, was going to explode.
Another memory I have is of travelling to a “bush camp” near Lake Malawi, two really good things – the first was the memory of the lady who refused to use a “potty”, exclaiming shrilly that it was far beneath her status, and insisted on walking to the toilet in the middle of the night. I need to explain that the huts were on stilts! “Beware of the Hippo’s” signs almost outnumbered the trees! Her shrill voice became a really hysterical scream as she was chased through the bush by a rather grumpy, and surprisingly nimble Hippo in the middle of the night. And then there was the chef – bearing in mind I was only about five years old – but this man was massive – in my mind he was six feet tall and probably about 3 feet wide, and as black as the Ace of Spades – with a smile that was so brilliant it outshone the sun especially when I so adored and wolfed down his pancakes … light and fluffy and positively oozing chopped fresh, sweet pineapple and whipped cream, every morning for breakfast he would eagerly await my order because it wasn’t the traditional “Brit Breakfast Fare” that most of the other patrons wanted – I can honestly say I don’t think I have ever had pineapples as sweet, or pancakes as light and fluffy as those – but what a memory!
So here I am, I decided to take a gap, it is Saturday after all, and whilst I am technically “off duty” I am running round getting supplies for some last minute bookings, and other special orders for the coming week.
Not surprisingly, I find myself people watching as I peacefully sip my yummy cappucino – well, actually “kiddie” watching – they are the most fascinating after all – they generally have not had time to develop neuroses like us adults, they are free spirits, more free to express themselves, they really either “love” or “hate” something, are either “really impressed” or just “don’t have a care”, they laugh deeply, and will dive into a plate of food with great gusto and (perhaps more importantly) no guilt …
There are two young boys at the table next to mine and I ask their Dad if I can speak to them – Mathew & Victor – what are their favourite foods – what makes them unspeakably happy when their Mum cooks them a certain something – I think I might want to go and live with them … Mum cooks delicious home made burgers, funky cupcakes, salads with a yummy balsamic dressing, a killer spagetti bolognaise, beef or chicken casseroles, and even the most delicious prawns and crayfish when the occasion calls for it … but even the thought of a toasted cheese and tomato or hotdog rustled up by Mum brings a smile to these two boys faces – it is really a delight to see, their happy thought associations, their pride in what their Mum puts together for them …
And so this gets me to thinking … of my own set of happy childhood memories, happy times around the family table or those of family friends, or on what seemed like really exotic travels …
One of the things my Mum used to make was the most awesome of beef casseroles with, wait for it, home made herb dumplings – it was real comfort food. The casserole was simple and nourishing, and the smell of it cooking would time after time, overcome my pathological fear that the pressure cooker which she so loved using, was going to explode.
Another memory I have is of travelling to a “bush camp” near Lake Malawi, two really good things – the first was the memory of the lady who refused to use a “potty”, exclaiming shrilly that it was far beneath her status, and insisted on walking to the toilet in the middle of the night. I need to explain that the huts were on stilts! “Beware of the Hippo’s” signs almost outnumbered the trees! Her shrill voice became a really hysterical scream as she was chased through the bush by a rather grumpy, and surprisingly nimble Hippo in the middle of the night. And then there was the chef – bearing in mind I was only about five years old – but this man was massive – in my mind he was six feet tall and probably about 3 feet wide, and as black as the Ace of Spades – with a smile that was so brilliant it outshone the sun especially when I so adored and wolfed down his pancakes … light and fluffy and positively oozing chopped fresh, sweet pineapple and whipped cream, every morning for breakfast he would eagerly await my order because it wasn’t the traditional “Brit Breakfast Fare” that most of the other patrons wanted – I can honestly say I don’t think I have ever had pineapples as sweet, or pancakes as light and fluffy as those – but what a memory!
