Kiwi food nostalgia

While there was a lot of sadness in my childhood, happily, many fond memories dwell in tastes and smells. There was much comfort and contentment to be found in the food cooked by my mother and grandmother. This morning I was trying to conjure up the memory of a cornmeal souffle that my mother made on special occasions. The aroma, the taste and the texture have left a warm glow in the hard drive.

Then this afternoon I was reading about the kiwi cooking tradition in the Listener, and 'celebrities' contributed their fond food memories. For the record, here are some more of mine from my mother's pantry:

- Bacon butties in the morning, on vogels bread with a thick layer of butter
- Bubble and squeak
- Vol au vents filled with shrimp and sour cream
- Baked potatoes filled with cream cheese and garlic and then baked a bit longer
- Cauliflower groaning under lashings of cheese sauce
- Pork stir fry with fried egg, cashew nuts, and pieces of pineapple (my mother was adventurous, if not authentic)
- Chicken breasts on the bone, topped with herbs, breadcrumbs, and butter, then baked
- Shepherds pie made with shredded cooked meat left overs and grated carrot, topped with mashed potato and lashings of home made tomato sauce
- Chop suey with plenty of ginger, bacon and soy sauce
- Vegetable soup, cooked slowly with a bacon hock
- Preserved peaches from the tree
- Mandarins and grapes from the backyard, and guavas from the neighbour's tree

Most of what we had was made from scratch. No packet gravies and sauces, and food didn't come out of a box (unless it was the cereal box). I still would rather go without gravy than have it from a packet - what would be the point?

My grandmother's cooking also holds special memories. A stay at her house would usually involve:

- A breakfast of weetbix warmed with boiling water and topped with a thick layer of sugar and cold milk, followed by a poached egg on a thick slab of white toast dripping in butter, and topped with her own mix of salt
- A lunch of tinned spaghetti that would sprawl across a large brown dinner plate, accompanied by a crispy bun from the bakery in Ruawai Rd, Panmure. Or if not spaghetti then cucumber and thick slices of her homegrown beefsteak tomatoes
- A dinner of crumbed lamb chops, mashed potato and parsley, and homegrown runner beans, followed by tinned fruit and ice cream, and then sweet milky tea in front of the television.

Of course, eating was not all happy times. My mother made her own version of Duck a L'Orange which was chicken slowly roasted in a sea of Raro. She used to boil the crap out of vegetables until they disintegrated in your mouth, yet I remember chewing steak until my jaws ached. She also had a penchant for offal and Irish stew which never went down well with the kids. But it was these experiences that made the good food all the better.

Because she was who she was, she also made the most delicious plain biscuits, however these were mostly laced with marijuana.

Happy times, happy times.