Funny old food time

It’s been a funny old food time.

I’ve been cooking for my parents since they were ill. My poor parents: they produced three children, two of whom are quite talented cooks but they got me as resident chef and yes, I am the third one!

Mum didn’t eat much (anything) while she was in hospital so when she came out we tried hard to tempt her with what she fancied. She made a face at some of her normal treats (avocado pear) but was willing to try another one (cottage cheese and pineapple – BLEUGH, what’s that all about?) She couldn’t eat my carrot and potato soup because of the garlic… but if I stuck to simple, traditional (dare I say it) nursery food, we seemed to be okay.

After about three days (of fourteen!) my repertoire was running thin. My Dad is a carnivore through and through. His freezer is full of grown up meat, like chops (BLEUGH on the bone?) Or with names like chuck steak or braising steak that I don’t know what to do with. Some of the packets were entirely unlabelled. (I took comfort that there was a large bag labeled with ‘cat or dog meat’ and assumed that the unidentifiable steak I used one day was actually for human consumption.)

Gradually, Mum’s heightened senses returned to normal and I managed to get her to eat my version of Snob’s Guacamole, well, okay, I missed out the chili peppers.

Last Thursday, while I waited for the taxi to take me to Heathrow, my Mum and Dad were preparing supper. It was a joint effort; the first evening meal they’d had to make since before they were ill. Dad cooked leeks from the garden and par boiled potatoes while Mum layered it into the oven dish.

I watched while they prepared the leek and potato gratin from a vegetarian French cookbook. And I thought, ‘yeah, my job here is done.’

My first choice of food when I got home: stir fried cabbage and garlic. Yum.

Hello? *Waves*

I'm sorry I've been AWOL.

What have I been up to? I've been to the UK and eaten quite a lot of cake - most of it wheat free but not all of it. Sorry body. It was my Dad's 82nd birthday and Daughter and Sister made him a 'light chocolate cake' from Harry Eastwood's Red Velvet Chocolate Heartache book. It was quite simply the best cake I've ever eaten.

My sister taught me to make tzatziki and I cooked quite a lot; most out of character.

I raced like a maniac around the countryside seeing people and doing things but people drove and trained around England to come and see us too. Thank you people. Several things got cancelled and we weren't able to reschedule and other things didn't get arranged in the first place. I'm so sorry to people I didn't manage to see.

We got back to Bangkok just in time for Sister in Law and her family to arrive. They had a week in the city and then we all set off for a week by the sea - Koh Samed. I'll skim over the fact that I had what I think might have been flu while there. At least I could look at the sea while I felt crap.

And then the kids went back to school and it felt like we'd never been away.

I feel very 'start of a new term' though. We've started planning for our Melbourne Cup hats - I am feeling very excited about these. And I've bought myself a food processor (both Husband and I bought food processors to the relationship. We both had them as students and bits had broken off so that nothing fitted together in the end. They were judged too falling apart to make the trip to Thailand. Both were twenty years old which I reckon was pretty bloody marvellous and is why this week I bought a new Kenwood.) I've continued to cook quite a lot - tzatziki, hummus, leek and potato soup, guacamole. I'm failing to buy sweet potatoes in Bangkok at the moment so I can make Leon's sweet potato falafel. Leon says it must be the ones that are orange inside. Somewhere else it said there are Japanese sweet potato and the internet said that what Americans call yams, often aren't. Or something. So I keep going to gaze at sweet potato shaped things in greengrocers, wondering if they're the right thing to buy.

And I'm writing. I've had five days of storming writing or rewriting to be accurate. I appear to have worked out what needs doing with the novel and I feel a bit floaty about it.

I'm beginning to think the fairies might have dropped in and exchanged me for a slightly better model.

My Dad

Last week I said I would blog about my parents one at a time. Today is my Dad's turn.

My Dad:

• rarely swears, but when he does he runs together convoluted combinations of really atrocious expletives.


• brought my sister and me a cup of tea every school day morning to wake us up for school. It became a condition that the man I married would selflessly provide me with endless cups of tea. (I failed.)


• catches spiders in his hands. He shakes his hands gently to stop them from biting him. Eeeewugh. (Husband stamps on spiders since he’s a bit scared too – although less so since his six year old Son challenged him with: “Dad, if you hold the tarantula, so will I”.)


• is amazingly talented with his hands. For many years he’s made props for the local theatre group’s performances. So when I go home, this is the kind of thing I chance upon:

• Every year (bar one when he was ill) he has made a Christmas Creature for the children of the family. Until we had our own children this was my sister and I until we were around 30! Christmas creatures are made, Blue Peter style, from cardboard tubes, fizzy drink bottles and are decorated in the style of: aliens, cats, dogs, snowmen, dinosaurs, etc. They always have a hollow in their bodies which is filled with small toys and gifts. They are placed under the tree and given out with presents. Every year it’s a top secret what creature he’s made.

• (This Christmas Creature is Flicka, the dog. If you turn her round, you can open her bottom! and presents are hidden inside her hollow. It's quite scary how Dad has captured her neurotic expression so brilliantly. )

• It never mattered how many friends we invited, how late in the day, my parents always found enough food, and pulled up another chair. Our friends were always welcome.


• Has written his memoirs.


• He’s a fabulous cook. He’s always does Christmas meals and Sunday lunches but since he retired he has done nearly all the cooking.

Beam me up, Scotty

I’m feeling a bit homesick at the moment. I’ve been feeling like this for some time now, so I can’t entirely blame my birthday yesterday, though having messages from everyone has perhaps made my homesickness a bit worse.

Consequently, today, I feel a small pain.

It feels like my lover is missing; my heart hurts a bit (Note: my lover isn’t missing – he’s here, and he’s who you think he is I’m just trying to say how it feels!)

So.

I’d like to be beamed up, please. For a whole weekend if you can manage it.

I’d arrange for my extended family members, on both sides, and my chosen family all to be staying at my folks. It’d be a bit of a squeeze, and very loud, but I think it would be worth it. We could all cook (can you imagine all those cooks in one OV kitchen?)

I’d make Larb Moo, a Thai spicy pork mince salad - fresh mint from the herb garden.
MJ would make veggie.
L could make that artichoke thing for the veggies too.
S or MJ would make yummy salad dressing.
L&A would be in charge of puddings (sugar free one for M&D please)
B wouldn’t cook because he can’t stand sharing a kitchen!
V&I would take control of the alcohol.
V could make dahl.
Granddad could do the meat and bring in new potatoes from the garden (yes, I know it’s October, but this is a dream, right?)
On that note, the weather would be perfect, so we’d eat outside. The children would have a lovely time and not fight and let the adults talk.

I can almost feel myself there.