I have strong memories associated with cooking from my childhood. The heavenly scent of Grandma Pat baking chocolate chip cookies in our kitchen when she visited, for one. She used chunks of cooking chocolate, possibly fueling my life-long (in my twenty five years at least) preference for rich, cocoa-dense dark chocolate. Grandad made my brother and I red wine spaghetti as children - the alcohol long gone from the slow simmering on the stove that brought the rich flavours to life. Gung (my grandmother - the name came from the mispronouncement of Grandy from a cousin at the earliest of ages, and simply stuck) made a fabulous cassata at Christmas, an Italian dessert made of vanilla ice-cream, fruit and nuts. While my mother is not particularly fond of cooking - possibly not unusual when you are responsible for the daily preparation of three meals for a family for two decades - she mastered certain signature dishes that linger long in my memory. Bacon and egg quiche (really a frittata because of the base of layered potato rather than pastry), French onion soup with toasted Italian bread and bubbling molten cheese, fragrant coconut laksa with rice vermicelli, lemon delicious, chicken and mango salad (the Christmas lunch standard for a good decade or so by now), Stephanie Alexander's blueberry muffins, anchovy spaghetti with lemon, parsley and golden toasted breadcrumbs, Italian rice pudding (a sweet baked risotto with lemon rind and pine nuts), potato and leek soup, pumpkin pie, as well as her super lemon-y homemade hummus and salad vinaigrette with a secret ingredient (no longer) of curry powder adding an extra zing. These dishes are so familiar and comforting, that two years ago I made a project of collecting each recipe. The idea was that in times of homesickness I would be able to conjure up something resonant of being with those closest to me.
I was given a children's cookbook when I was about ten years old. I took great pleasure in mastering Welsh rarebit, stuffed baked potatoes, omelette and even a simple cheese souffle. Because I was usually swept out of our tiny kitchen (being "in the way" as a young child would be when sharp knives and hot water are being used) I relished these opportunities to stake my claim on the kitchen territory for a few precious hours.
Apart from these momentary misadventures I never really pursued my interest in cooking. I took Food Technology in Year Seven and was underwhelmed by the basic things we were asked to prepare, with little thought or enlightenment on presentation or innovation. I was preoccupied with my studies and also with a full-time level commitment to dance in my later years of high school, only rarely dallying with recipes for homemade red wine beef pies and mango cheesecake made from fresh Australian mangoes and hours of my time and patience.
So why the blog? I've been an admirer of Donna Hay for a little while now, noting her clean, pure aesthetic, the classic pale blue and white tones, and the delicate touches such as the ribboning of zucchini, cucumber, asparagus. I love the simplicity and freshness of the ingredients. Nothing too heavy, but not going without taste (or carbs) either. It happened that on my birthday last year I walked past a bookstore and saw her latest, Fast, Fresh and Simple on display. As it was the start of the summer holidays and having just watched Julie and Julia at home with my Mum, I was inspired to start a photo blog which has now developed into something a little more like Julie's efforts online. Who knows if anyone will read it? But if nothing else, I'll have a great collection of proof that I came closer than I have ever been to domestic goddess-ship this year!
Yours in culinary endeavours,
*soph*
* as a sidenote, I've been eating gluten-free for about one year now, and I've managed to convert most of her recipes quite easily. Some of them are already gluten-free anyhow, and otherwise it's really not so difficult when gluten-free pasta, rolls and tortillas are available - if anyone has any questions please ask!
