This article was written for Annabel & Grace, which is now part of Rest Less.
Being a semi-retired Northern Male has its advantages.
For example I am now able to take a day off, put my feet up and watch daytime television in my underpants. This was Bernard Manning’s favourite hobby. He regularly lost his string vest on the horses in front of the telly of a weekday afternoon. It’s not a mental picture you want to keep though is it.
The reason I torture you with this image is that television has a propensity for banality and nothing is cheaper and more insulting to the intelligence than the TV cookery show. Yet its popularity is amazing.
A few years ago I was wandering around the Great Yorkshire Show in Harrogate and spied a large tent overflowing with women so much that even approaching it was difficult. What could be the attraction?
Much jostling later I discovered a fellow Yorkshireman making a chocolate cake. The female salivation was palpable. It was James Martin. This is why on a Saturday morning in the UK both BBC1 and ITV run live cookery shows against each other. They are massive.
It was so different in my Mother’s day.
Since her passing in 2017 I have inherited not only Mum’s library of cookery books and her personally typed recipes to add to my own, but also have her in my head guiding me. Years of standing by her in the kitchen as she made delicious meals for her husband, my brother and me rubbed off. I wanted to learn this craft which mysteriously wasn’t on my boys school curriculum – and she was the finest teacher.
Since those heady days I’ve discovered being domesticated and able to cook comes in remarkably handy when wishing to impress a lady. A man at home in the kitchen also seems to hold the key to the bedroom. Who knew?
Not that this was my mother’s intention you understand, but it’s a side order of advantage none-the-less. As I stood beside her while she made the best tasting puddings on earth, she would have been well aware of the many benefits being able to cook would bring to her eldest son.
She once felt my fingers and said “You’ll be fine with pastry because your fingers are cold.” I try to remind myself having poor circulation is an advantage when dancing around the bed in agony with excruciating cramp in my calf muscles for the umpteenth time.
What she also taught me is you shouldn’t be afraid to “wing it” when it comes to recipes. No matter how famous the chef, nothing is set in stone. If Delia insists on a half a grated nutmeg in her stuffed breast of lamb, tell her to stuff it and use what you’ve got in your cupboard. A Norwich supporter would expect that from a Leeds fan anyway.
I’d be interested to hear from other “Country Wives” if making it up is what you do too. Do you use recipes passed down to you like me?
Two of my mother’s oldest cookery books are from WW2 when “Digging For Victory” went hand in bowl with powdered eggs, ration books and rolling up your sleeves as a land army girl. What I like about them is their no-nonsense approach which assumes you know nothing and need your hair cut.
Here’s an example from the yellowing pages of her A.D.T.S cookery book (Association of Teachers of Domestic Subjects), priced 1/- Nett.
Under the heading “Principles of Diet” we learn:
Food has three functions to perform.
1. To produce energy i.e. to act as fuel.
2. To build up and repair the body tissues.
3. To protect the body from disease and regulate the vital processes.
Food is composed of one or more of the following: Fats, Carbohydrates, Proteins, Minerals, Vitamins, Roughage and Water.
What other cookery book starts with a no-nonsense science lesson like this? You can just hear the Sergeant Major walking up and down the ranks of raw chef recruits with his pace stick under his left arm.
“You ‘orrible little man.”
Chapter 23 on “Camp Cookery” would have Julian Clary in fits.
What strikes me as a modern cook is the time required. Before the microwave and instant sachets from Quaker Oats, here’s its recipe for making porridge:
“Take 2oz of medium oatmeal and sprinkle into boiled water. Add salt and boil for 5 minutes, stirring all the time. Then simmer for one hour. Add more water for pouring consistency.”
One hour? There’s a war on!
70 years ago making perfect Yorkshire Puddings was also simple:
“Heat a little dripping in a tin. Pour in the batter and bake in a hot oven for 25 minutes or until set and brown. Cut into squares and serve”.
That’s the traditional method as always followed by my Nanna Adelaide, or Addy as she was known. A retired bus conductoress, she knew how to make meals and did things “reight”. Her puddings were properly square, never round and served with the most delicious onion gravy. Her call to the table through the serving hatch was always the same. “The Yorkshire’s are in!”
My mother Joyce and my Dad’s Mum were forever in cookery wars. Who’s pies, loaves or tarts were best? Being ten, I didn’t know any of this and just shoved it all in my face. One Christmas the family were gathered around our table for tea at Nanna and Grandad’s in Harehills. During a gap in conversation I decided to add my ten pennorth.
“Mum says your mince pies aren’t as good as hers”. The ensuing silence was almost as hard to cut through as Nanna’s Christmas cake.
So we sat around the TV after tea watching Morecambe and Wise whilst Mother sat stony-faced as Nanna offered me another piece of her cake with crumbly tempting Cheshire cheese on the side.
Neither of these wonderful women got their ability to cook from the TV and neither have I. Their knowledge and enthusiasm was passed down the generations, as were their cookery books. But I do worry the current generation are relying more on You Tube and Google than their mothers. Are you passing on your skills? I do hope so.
Don’t leave it to James Martin.
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