COOKING WAS THE WAY MY MOTHER SHOWED LOVE

 “My earliest food memories are when I was probably about four, in a rambling old house which Dad was renovating. Endless happy hours were spent on the swing suspended from the walnut tree — that is when we weren’t eating the garden produce. This consisted of a glorious bounty of fruit trees: apples, peaches, apricots, gooseberries. I still recall our red stained fingers and mouths as we devoured raspberries warmed by the summer sun and the taste of sun ripened tomatoes from the vine.  

Mum made all her own jams, chutneys, pickles and bottled fruit and Dad was pretty good at it too, his pickled mushrooms being my favourite.There was always a fragrant offering simmering on the blackened top of the fuel stove, with cakes, biscuits, coconut ice, and amazing chocolate cake all appearing with miraculous regularity. Obviously Mum had a sweet tooth, so consequently struggled with her weight but cooking was her way of showing love. I was her greatest fan, praised for my enthusiastic efforts and held up as a fine example to my sister who had a poor appetite. 

It is therefore unsurprising that I have memories of some friends of my parents saying 
that I'd  make a good ‘front row forward’ due to my muscular frame and coverage. I had no idea what that meant but knew it wasn't what I wanted. Mum would constantly go on ‘diets’ and I recall her often holding in her stomach and 

standing sideways in order to show the progress of the diet.”

Early tastings 

“Bluff oysters are said to be the most flavoursome in the world because they are slowly grown in the cold, clean waters off the southern island of New Zealand. They would be collected from the rocks by the sackful. Dad would open an oyster and throw his head back to scull from the shell. Of course, I would do the same, in my role as intrepid taster; however I must admit to an initial sense of misgiving, reinforced by my sister’s horror.

This brave act was followed up by the tasting of Mutton Bird — valued by Māoris. The birds which are brined and stored in their fat, are said to taste like mutton with some describing the strong flavour as ‘duck crossed with anchovies’ — not for the faint palated.

There was always a substantial garden, which would yield enough produce to sustain the family. Food scraps were dug into the soil without being composted, resulting in white eggshells being visible at times, looking as if there was a crop of eggs. However, this simple method resulted in soil fertile enough to even propagate new plants such as Chinese Gooseberries and Tree Tomatoes from the seeds of the eaten fruit.

Extract from my new book 'Alfreshco - foreshore flavour' to be published later this year.