This is a little bit of History about my love of cooking.
I have always believed that the best gift you can give anyone is to Cook for them.
|Mum & Dad on their wedding day
My first memories of home life are the SMELLS.
Some were weird.. some made you want to take a bite out of thin air… and others made you wretch, but all had a story and were made by my Dad
Here are some of the smells that have left a lasting dent on my brain…
Freshly caught fish being gutted and filleted on old news papers, down in my dad’s shed. This always started out ‘stinky’ but ended up so delicious.
Baked Beetroot, until I was in my 30’s I never even tasted freshly baked beetroot. The smell from home always put me off, but now I’m a big girl I love it.
Saturday night was always Jam night. Dad seemed to have the biggest pot known to man (then again I was small) and he would fill it with delicious fresh fruits from the garden, add suger and leave to boil and set for what seemed like a week. The only one that made my nose twitch was the gooseberry jam which was a little ‘spikey’ for me.
I was brought up in a Catholic family, and my mum would insist that we attended mass each week. I would choose to go on Saturday night which meant I could spend Sunday morning in the kitchen with my Dad cooking the Sunday dinner. That is were my love of cooking started and I still love to bake and cook and find it so theraputic.
So now you know who to blame for all my kitchen trials and tribulations.
I still ring my Dad on occasion looking for advise, and he is high on my list of tasters. Only second to the hungry Husband & Kids
Here I am with 1 of my 6 sisters, mucking about as usual. I’m the one trying to escape. x