My family and other recipes
Granny’s food parcels let Dad revisit a childhood that ended too soon
He would substitute raw bacon for Black Forest ham – no wonder the German delicacies were much better received than Granny Ruth herself
‘It’s just a bit of rust’ – how we ate from unlabelled tins on holiday
On childhood foreign camping trips, my parents insisted on bringing their own food – including butter, marmalade and Spam – but sometimes even they didn’t know what we were eating
My mother’s dinner parties included ‘exotic’ Smash
She served ‘coq au vin’ or ‘boeuf bourguignon’, which was either lumps of chicken or lumps of beef with instant mashed potatoes and frozen peas
My mother grew mould gracefully, and raised me in her culture
She would simply scrape the mould off food and serve us whatever appeared underneath. Remarkably, no fatalities ensued
Our family was teetotal – until my grandmother was prescribed Guinness
An alcohol ban was only one of the ways in which Quaker principles shaped our home life, but there was the occasional exception
In Colorado I learned to cook – and fell in love with the United States
I discovered heaven across the pond … with shops as big as Harrods all on one floor, brighter lights and the enticing aroma of flame-broiled chicken and key lime pie
Portion control was mum’s mantra – with one glorious exception
My mathematician Quaker mother controlled food strictly, but she took the brakes off once a year – in an explosion of chocolate and marzipan
From Russia with caviar: a meal fit for a maths student
When my mum whisked the family to Moscow for a maths gathering, we ended up with far too many roubles. So we spent them on caviar
Guilty pleasures: mutant chocolate hinted at life with the brakes off
My teetotal, Quaker grandad didn’t like chocolate but worked for Rowntree and, on occasion, indulged us in delicious production-line failures
Bread and heaven: how compromising over food can save a marriage
My mother wouldn’t throw out leftover baguette but my father hated the dry, hard remnants. Their solution was bizarre, but preserved their relationship
My mother was a paragon of austerity. But even she loved chocolate
Other people remember where they were when Kennedy died. I remember my first Belgian pralines
How can you ever know your parents? You missed the best bit of their lives
However far and fast you run from your parents, one day you’ll realise you’re back where you started: a chip off the old block, and you never realised until it was too late
Dining with a prince could leave you hungry for more
Lunch at Buckingham Palace promised more than it delivered
Never try to eat a peach with a knife and fork
How my aunt’s pretensions ultimately poisoned her perfect Italian cuisine
How my parents were brought together by jam
My German father would visit my mother’s college room with dough cake and offer it in marriage to her preserve. Little did he know she preferred the strictures of rationing to such sensuous excess
