home time. a time of reflection, privacy and nostalgia. and what could be more nostalgic than the same food that i spent most of my life eating, served up on the same plates and eaten with the same cutlery. no, i'm not being disrespectful.
my mother, like the best mothers, has spent much of her life balancing making ends meet wit the needs and demands of four disrespectful little shits. my older sister "went" vegetarian at an early age, i followed some time after, and my younger sister chose to eat, well, nothing, ever, mixed with salt. consequently there were dinners comprised of different dinners, served up at different times and with different levels of attention. my father eats anything, fortunately, besides seafood and blood pudding, so his would take the least attention, followed by my mother's own, if it even existed, and then ours, in their individual fussy glory.
i wouldn't do it. would you? i guess it has something to do with hormones. oh, and love.
the highlight of my childhood, i think, would have to be a communal breakfast, which we went through various phases of being forced to attend, at some time between 7am and 7.30am, with a rack of toast, some kind of jam and probably marmite, and of course a collection of mostly-empty boxes of cereal, served with one-sixth of a pint of milk. it was from boxed cereal that i learnt what disneyland paris was, how much i wanted to win a holiday to the seychelles, and how important 100% of your RDA of niacin was (though i never learnt what niacin actually was--and now i look at the word it does look suspiciously like a deadly poison).
anyway, the milk. these were the days of daily milk deliveries. i think these still take place, though i'm so removed from (a) real life and (b) mornings, specifically, that i haven't observed any in recent years. we would pour the daily pint into a measuring jug, and we know exactly how much we were allowed by the notation of the side of the jug. i'm guessing it was a bit less than 100mls each, what with there being six of us. nowadays i'd probably take twice that amount, probably as a result of general debauchery.
so what does this have to do with my life today? not much, besides the universally acknowledged facts that i am a social animal, i'm lithe, i have a wide appreciation of tasteless but nutricious grains, and i have a serious middle child complex. these things are all true, and related to my excellent upbringing.
and, as fate would have it, i'm at home with my parents, with the rest of the litter spread to the winds across the south and north of england. within half an hour of my arrival home this was on the table. i didn't even know it was coming! cauliflower curry, deliciously spiced, served with yoghurt and naan bread.
my mother, like the best mothers, has spent much of her life balancing making ends meet wit the needs and demands of four disrespectful little shits. my older sister "went" vegetarian at an early age, i followed some time after, and my younger sister chose to eat, well, nothing, ever, mixed with salt. consequently there were dinners comprised of different dinners, served up at different times and with different levels of attention. my father eats anything, fortunately, besides seafood and blood pudding, so his would take the least attention, followed by my mother's own, if it even existed, and then ours, in their individual fussy glory.
i wouldn't do it. would you? i guess it has something to do with hormones. oh, and love.
the highlight of my childhood, i think, would have to be a communal breakfast, which we went through various phases of being forced to attend, at some time between 7am and 7.30am, with a rack of toast, some kind of jam and probably marmite, and of course a collection of mostly-empty boxes of cereal, served with one-sixth of a pint of milk. it was from boxed cereal that i learnt what disneyland paris was, how much i wanted to win a holiday to the seychelles, and how important 100% of your RDA of niacin was (though i never learnt what niacin actually was--and now i look at the word it does look suspiciously like a deadly poison).
anyway, the milk. these were the days of daily milk deliveries. i think these still take place, though i'm so removed from (a) real life and (b) mornings, specifically, that i haven't observed any in recent years. we would pour the daily pint into a measuring jug, and we know exactly how much we were allowed by the notation of the side of the jug. i'm guessing it was a bit less than 100mls each, what with there being six of us. nowadays i'd probably take twice that amount, probably as a result of general debauchery.
so what does this have to do with my life today? not much, besides the universally acknowledged facts that i am a social animal, i'm lithe, i have a wide appreciation of tasteless but nutricious grains, and i have a serious middle child complex. these things are all true, and related to my excellent upbringing.
and, as fate would have it, i'm at home with my parents, with the rest of the litter spread to the winds across the south and north of england. within half an hour of my arrival home this was on the table. i didn't even know it was coming! cauliflower curry, deliciously spiced, served with yoghurt and naan bread.
(hi-res--dig it.)
in essence, this post is dedicated to my mother. sorry for the bad language, and thank you for the food.
scurrylous.
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