Despatches from a mother who started late (and is running to catch up)

Teaching my daughter to cook

Granny arrives out of breath. She has climbed two flights of stairs. In her waterproof coat is a pamphlet of recipes. She hands it to me with a look of significance in her eyes.

It is a 1930's edition of Be-Ro Home Recipes, familiar from my own childhood. This book belonged first to Granny's mother, then to Granny, and now, so it seems, to me. From mother to daughter, over the generations.

Link to the past

Splotches cover the browning print. It feels like a precious link to the past, almost too precious to risk in the kitchen. I am to use it to teach my daughters to make scones, just as my mother used it to teach me.

"Good home baking is something to be proud of," states the author, in blissful ignorance of the decades to come when so many women would disagree with that statement.

What is a puff ball?

Its black and white pages are testimony to a vanished world of more than just sponge castles, eve puddings and puff balls (whatever they might be). Although these forgotten confections feature plentifully among the recipes.

It harks back to a world with values different to our own. One where little girls dreamt of learning to cook for their families, a world of simplicity and decency. Where nobody grew up aspiring to be a pop star fairy.

Jurassic Age

As I open the book, it feels like stepping back in time, to a place without Marks & Spencer ready meals, take-aways and out-of-town supermarkets.

"The woman who can cook well and bake well has every reason and every right to be proud of her cooking," says the author. "In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred she has a happy home, because good cooking means good food and good food means good health." Easy to laugh at, yes, but any nutritionist would confirm the truth in these simple words.

Girls only

Only female cooks feature in Be-Ro Home recipes. And only female offspring. Neither men nor boys cook themselves, but they figure occasionally as consumers of tempting delicacies.

In the section "Teach your daughters to cook" it states: "The mother who allows her little daughters to 'help her' in the kitchen on baking days may find them somewhat of a nuisance at first, but if she will only encourage them by kindly and patient example to learn the rudiments of cooking, they will become a great comfort and help to her when they grow older."

Homes of their own

Also, says the author: "They will learn one of the most important sections of homecraft, in preparation for the great day when they themselves will have homes of their own."

An insert in the title page, no doubt added after the outbreak of war, tells women how to adjust recipes for World War Two rationing. "Although a pre-war publication, these recipes are economical and suitable for present recipes. Good results are obtainable with dried eggs and dried milk."

Effect of rationing

It continues: "As National Flour varies in its capacity to absorb moisture, a little more or a little less liquid than stated may be desirable. Owing to rationing, many ladies prefer to use only half the quantities."

Granny brought me the book to help me with a cooking demonstration at Beanie's school later this week. Leafing through its pages, I felt a sadness at the vanished world of simplicity and decency these recipes represent.

Nostalgia

The world where you saved the last potato for the next day, where you made do, where you showed love by baking food. Sexist? Yes, certainly, at least judged by today's standards. But it cannot be so very wrong to take pride in learning how to feed our families.

Posted 26 January 2010 13:40

Domestic chaos Etiquette Food Granny Love

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