My love of food (mainly eating it), stemmed from a very early age, growing up in ‘trying times’, in working class Britain in the early 1970s. My culinary journey started at the earliest age, not really understanding the
concepts of ‘being frugal’ or ‘no waste’ or ‘cheap cuts’. My Mum made that seamless to me... I was fed well, with
food that I loved, so I was very happy.
Back in the day, we ate an excessive amount of potatoes (Or, as my Grandad would say - Spuds). Most meals
comprised of the humble fried chip with either fried eggs, sausages, fish fingers, peas (mushy or tinned), or -
to add a saucy element - baked beans. Occasionally we would swap out the chips for mashed potato, but very
rarely was a spud left off the plate. But that was quintessential early 1970’s in working-class United Kingdom...
Our parents did the best with what they had, and lucky for me, both my parents were great examples of
delivering the most delicious food, within their means...
My favorite of Mum’s gourmet delights was the scotch egg - a boiled egg covered in - wait for it... sausage meat.
And for me, the highlight of my week was ‘Sunday dinner’; either a roast dinner or Lancashire hotpot when it
was cold (it was cold a lot), or in summer, a can of prawns (well, in terms of what we eat today, possibly a can
of teeny tiny fishing bait that resembles a prawn) with salad, and most importantly, salad cream. This is the
most exotic taste sensation that has followed me to adulthood (In the form of salad cream and crisp butties), or
in the true spirit of this cookbook, in place of ANY mayonnaise or condiment! But one of the most important
things I learned from my Mum in the early days, that I think quite honestly needs a big reprieve today, is a
thousand different ways to serve left-overs! Monday’s meal was the highlight of my week... I don’t know how
she did it, and perhaps each meal was never to be repeated, but my mum managed to make any lamb, beef or
pork roast leftovers into the most exotic of dishes. In my mind my introduction to multi-culturalism. To my
grandmother it was termed “Foreign Muck”.
Moving to Australia was a culinary shock to my system. I think it was the first time I’d ever tasted a steak. And
the range of seafood was unlike any I had ever seen (battered) before. Prawns larger than my hand, mussels,
crab, oysters, (all of which my Dad and our new Australian family learned how to catch straight from the
ocean). My Dad also started experimenting with cultural infusions. Coming to Australia exposed us to many
other cuisine cultures, and so came the introduction of spaghetti bolognaise, Chinese stir fry, and French
inspired apricot chicken. (Another inspiration - French onion soup with a can of apricots). This became our
new ‘norm’. Then, in the late 1970,s came the smorgasbord! Well, just give me a horse-feeding nose-bag!
I suppose coming to Australia is also where I learned to cook. My Mum and Dad worked all hours to give us
the life they dreamed of, but as the eldest child, and a latch-door kid, I started to prepare meals in the best way
I knew how, (mostly turning a steak into a leather boot). Even so, my love of cooking was ignited..
