There’s nothing as magical as the taste of mum’s cooking – even if it’s a little more … creative than a roast chook. Photo: Tijana87.
There’s nothing like the taste of mum’s cooking.
At least, there’s nothing like the taste of my mum’s cooking.
When I was a kid our family dinner menu was a rotation of meals that ranged from the standard chops and veggies to more … colourful options.
We ate a lot of lamb; I don’t think I knew what a beef steak was until my teens.
Both my parents grew up on sheep farms, and I think we must have been sent home from the grandparents with the odd roast or Esky full of chops from time to time.
Mum was also a mincemeat mastermind.
We had chilli con carne (from the packet mix, of course), rissoles, the green stuff and the yellow stuff.
The green stuff involved mince and cabbage. It could be served with pasta, rice, or mashed potato and the entire concoction was a vibrant viridian shade.
The yellow stuff involved mince and bananas (sometimes also sultanas). It could also be served on pasta, rice or mashed potato.
Mum insists the yellow stuff is an authentic Sri Lankan curry. I’m not sure what the green stuff was, although I’m confident they both also came from packets.
In all fairness, Mum might not be getting a spot on MasterChef but she was a genius at making stuff kids would eat (except the yellow stuff).
Although I pride myself on my cooking skills, preferring to use my own spice blends to a packet of powder from Master Foods, my husband has the palate of a 10-year-old.
My cardamom-spiced dark chocolate brownies? Beloved at book clubs; despised in my own home.
My ginger, chilli and coconut pumpkin soup? Praised at potlucks; languishes in the fridge if I make it for Friday night dinner.
Mum’s tinned tuna curry, complete with tinned pineapple and the inescapable packet mix of Dutch Curry Soup, disappears faster than a shih-tzu in croc-infested waters.
And her bacon and macaroni casserole is the GOAT, which is saying something.
This family recipe has been passed down from my gran, to mum’s generation, their children, in-laws and more.
Despite its unassuming name, this levelled-up macaroni and cheese never fails to please.
All my cousins’ wives have the recipe; once you’ve had a mouthful, you’re a convert.
Everyone’s version is slightly different, but Mum’s is undisputedly the best (sorry Aunty Neen; your spag bol rules the roost though).
Her cob loaf dip – even though it makes her partner’s inner chef cringe at the potential for cross-contamination – is also a perennial hit.
I’m not just grateful for Mum’s special recipes; I’m grateful that she took on the bulk of the cooking.
Dad had a couple of things he could whip up for a solid dinner, but he also believed that tinned fruit was an acceptable addition to a garden salad.
In return for rescuing us from that, I’ll eat as much yellow stuff – ahem, Sri Lankan curry – as is put in front of me.
Thanks Mum. We love you.
Original Article published by Zoe Cartwright on Region Illawarra.
