Salad Days

My salad days. When I was green in judgment, cold in blood.” Anthony & Cleopatra, William Shakespeare.

Salads in the 50s meant lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers with the occasional spring onion thrown in. Once a week, nursery tea was a salad accompanied by tinned pilchards or tinned pink salmon – red salmon was reserved for special occasions. Sardines, well sardines as Fiona’s post describes, were to be spread on toast. Continue reading “Salad Days”

A Particular Sweet Tooth

Why do some people have a sweet tooth and others don’t? Both my parents were born during the First World War when the Germans U-boats cut off Britain from much of its supplies. Food products included potatoes and sugar were particularly affected.  By the end of 1917, people began to fear that the country was running out of food and started panic buying – and this, in turn, led to shortages. Therefore in January 1918, the Ministry of Food decided to introduce rationing and sugar was first on their list. Continue reading “A Particular Sweet Tooth”

Canned Sardines – A Family Affair

Sardines (the canned variety) are a bit like Marmite – you either like them or you don’t. My father and his mother were fans and my mother and her mother weren’t. Tea with Granny ‘Kenzie (a meal that took place in the early evening), often involved sardines on toast, mashed up with butter and put under the gas grill. My mother’s mother, Granny Hughes, didn’t like the oily, fishy smell – her house smelt of bleach, Vim cleaning powder, and furniture polish – but the strong sardine odour clearly didn’t bother Granny ‘Kenzie. I suspect the fact that sardines were, and still are, so cheap, was another reason Granny ‘Kenzie liked them. Continue reading “Canned Sardines – A Family Affair”

The Sage of a Francophile

Growing up it was hard not to learn to love all things French. My father’s family come from Guernsey, an island that is approximately forty-three miles from the French coast, and double that from the UK mainland. Continue reading “The Sage of a Francophile”

One Step, Two Steps – Peas In A Pod

Peas in a pod
Peas in a pod

Back in 2012, I was asked to test this recipe for pea and courgette salad by my step-step-grand-daughter Niaomh, who was editing and publishing The Deptford Community Cookbook. Since then, the salad has become a spring-time favourite of mine. But before we get into peas and their pods, I suspect you’re trying to work out what is a ‘step-step-grand-daughter’? Let me explain… Continue reading “One Step, Two Steps – Peas In A Pod”

GDPR Compliance – sorry, but we have to do this!

This is a short post on GDPR which comes into effect today on May 25, 2018.

Any cookies on our website are used to ensure normal website functions. These cookies cannot be switched off because the website wouldn’t function properly without them. However, it is our understanding that these identifiers do not store any personal data.

When you leave a comment on this blog, WordPress will automatically store your gravatar name, IP Address, comment, and email address. So leaving a comment is considered a definite intention (as defined by the GDPR), giving us consent to store this information, and permission to contact you in the future.

Signing up for emails when new posts are put on the site falls into the same category.

We do not sell or share your personal information with any third parties under any circumstances.

If you wish us to remove your data for any reason please get in touch.

Judi Chadaway and Fiona McKenzie

 

A Simple Soup for Sore Throats

The simplest of ingredients
The simplest of ingredients

There’s something about being ill that completely changes your appetite, both in terms of quantity and desire. Today was the first time in four weeks that I ate a fresh green salad – normally a daily habit of mine. But then I’ve been ill with bronchitis and an awful laryngitis and, as a result, my appetite has become that of a child. I’ve been eating nursery food.  Continue reading “A Simple Soup for Sore Throats”

An Italian Con-fusion

I don’t think you ever forget your first trip to Venice. Mine was in March, a melancholy month at the best of times. Dark clouds were blanketing London and the plane trees lining my street dripped water from the tips of their, as yet, sticky buds. At work, I had been assigned to ‘special projects’ whilst seeing out a six month notice period for an American telecoms company. It was mind numbingly boring and I felt in need of a break if I was to embark on a new career with a spring in my step. Continue reading “An Italian Con-fusion”