The Great Irish Potato Surplus of 1974
I have a terrible habit of being repetitious when it comes to food. I think it hails back to my childhood when you could tell what day of the week it was, simply from the smell (or should that be aroma) that was coming from the kitchen at lunch time.
In Ireland (at least in my house back then) the main meal of the day was at lunchtime and confusingly called 'dinner'. In the evening (dinnertime) you'd have a light meal called 'tea' which was usually sandwiches or salad or the type of food that most people think of as 'lunch'. We called this 'teatime' as it was accompanied by copious amounts of hot tea. Is it any wonder people take the piss out of the Irish?
My mother is a great cook and back then she liked to try new recipes but my father is strictly a meat n' two veg man who would turn up his nose at anything 'fancy'. His idea of sauce is Bisto gravy and nothing else. For him there are only 2 herbs n' spices = salt n' pepper. Just the smell of garlic has the potential to drive him to drink, which is not a good thing for a man who took the Pioneer pledge of total abstinence from alcohol at age 16 and never touched a drop since. I have a hefty wager with a sibling he'll cave in any day know. Thankfully, his offspring have more than made up his shameful lack of support for the Irish Vitners Association.
So we were somewhat restricted in the choice of menu growing up but it was all fine fare to be sure. In truth, I had my own dietary fussiness to contend with. I was the quintessential 'Jack Sprat' in that I would eat no fat. I methodically and surgically dissected and removed every single minute piece of fat from any meat on my plate. Even though my Dad was/is a fussy food fucker himself, he did his damndest to convert me to the culinary joys of fat. I still vividly remember being semi force fed a piece of steak with a big wedge of fat and almost retching on the spot.
Since leaving food (even fat) on your plate was taboo, I leveraged sleight of hand and diversionary tactics to deposit the fat cuttings behind the kitchen radiator heater. That all worked fine until the festering mess started to shhhtink and 'my jig was up' so to speak although I danced another jig after my backside had been tanned for my offences. They were still finding moldy rasher rinds years after I left home.
So the weekly menu rarely varied from
In retrospect and on a more serious note, it's a good thing there wasn't a short supply of potatoes when I was growing up or we'd have been bloody famished.
So how was the food when and where you were a wee nipper?
In Ireland (at least in my house back then) the main meal of the day was at lunchtime and confusingly called 'dinner'. In the evening (dinnertime) you'd have a light meal called 'tea' which was usually sandwiches or salad or the type of food that most people think of as 'lunch'. We called this 'teatime' as it was accompanied by copious amounts of hot tea. Is it any wonder people take the piss out of the Irish?
My mother is a great cook and back then she liked to try new recipes but my father is strictly a meat n' two veg man who would turn up his nose at anything 'fancy'. His idea of sauce is Bisto gravy and nothing else. For him there are only 2 herbs n' spices = salt n' pepper. Just the smell of garlic has the potential to drive him to drink, which is not a good thing for a man who took the Pioneer pledge of total abstinence from alcohol at age 16 and never touched a drop since. I have a hefty wager with a sibling he'll cave in any day know. Thankfully, his offspring have more than made up his shameful lack of support for the Irish Vitners Association.
So we were somewhat restricted in the choice of menu growing up but it was all fine fare to be sure. In truth, I had my own dietary fussiness to contend with. I was the quintessential 'Jack Sprat' in that I would eat no fat. I methodically and surgically dissected and removed every single minute piece of fat from any meat on my plate. Even though my Dad was/is a fussy food fucker himself, he did his damndest to convert me to the culinary joys of fat. I still vividly remember being semi force fed a piece of steak with a big wedge of fat and almost retching on the spot.
Since leaving food (even fat) on your plate was taboo, I leveraged sleight of hand and diversionary tactics to deposit the fat cuttings behind the kitchen radiator heater. That all worked fine until the festering mess started to shhhtink and 'my jig was up' so to speak although I danced another jig after my backside had been tanned for my offences. They were still finding moldy rasher rinds years after I left home.
So the weekly menu rarely varied from
- Sunday - roast lamb or beef or pork & potatoes
- Monday - mutton stew & potatoes
- Tuesday - bacon & cabbage & potatoes (FYI - we don't eat 'corned beef' in Ireland - some Yank invented that lie)
- Wednesday - something & potatoes & mashed turnips & parsnips (It doesn't matter what the something was I just hated turnips & parsnips)
- Thursday - mixed grill (bacon, sausage, egg, fried bread & fried potatoes)
- Friday - fish & mashed potatoes as dictated by GOD! - (Jesus, where's the fuckin' loaves o' bread?)
- Saturday - roast chicken & potatoes
In retrospect and on a more serious note, it's a good thing there wasn't a short supply of potatoes when I was growing up or we'd have been bloody famished.
So how was the food when and where you were a wee nipper?
Tags: .potato..
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17 comments:
That menu sounds pretty damn good to me.
My childhood menu in Canada was remarkable similar, if you add in mac and cheese once a week.
My grandmother was fond of calling lunch Dinner. I knew there was some Irish in the family.
That sounds exactly like my house. Right down to me refusing to eat anything vaguely fatty. My dad's also a meat and spuds Pioneer (misnomer if ever there was one) who has recently eaten 2 pizzas as "training" for his forthcoming trip to Italy.
My brother used to put both butter and brown sauce on his beans which the sight of used to make me retch.
I love everything with taters.
As a fact, that menu sounds great for both me and hubby ;)
I would eat it incl. the fat though. Me loves fat ;)
Yuck at the idea of throwing it behind the radiator ;)
@ Stevo: I can't really complain about the menu but then again we Irish like to complain about everything
@ Caro: Welcome back - I thought you were on the run! - Butter on beans - now you've opened a can o' worms - vomit pending
@ Nicole: No don't say you'd eat the fat - {feels queazy}
Like most things in Ireland during the wonder years the weekly menu was unchanged ( we didn't like change )
Sunday - roast chicken & potatoes with peas / carrots
Monday - a non spicy chicken curry with chips aka chicken and onions in watery curry sauce
Tuesday - bacon & cabbage & potatoes
Wednesday - steak and kidney pie (the one with the tinfoil tray) potatoes and peas/carrots (whichever was not eaten on Sunday)
Thursday - very well done round steak, onions and would you believe, mashed potatoes
Friday - fish fingers & chips (fingers as we weren't fish people but God rules applied)
Saturday - was when frozen food came from the supermarket and had to be eaten fast cos we had no freezer. So french bread pizza and savoury pancakes before going to The Grove
@ Del: yer SO right - we didn't like change - Glad to see our menu was similar - although Jaezuz - yiz ate curry - that would never have been allowed in our gaff
Funny I can't really remember what we used to eat when I was growing up. My parents we always on wierd food kicks, so not a lot of meat and no refined sugar.
I do know that starting at the age of 6 once a week I had to plan a menu, walk to the store and buy the ingredients, and cook the meal. So weekly we had a hotdog stuffed with cheese and wrapped in bacon--something I learned to make in the Girl Scouts.
@ Maya: Age 6 wow - impressive. I could barely open a packet of crisps at that age
Our menus when I was a child were pretty similar to yours, except that in summer there would be things like veal and ham pie and salad. My parents were both very traditional about food, nothing too spicy or too foreign or too unusual. Thankfully we've all matured a bit since then cuisine-wise and now we'll try just about anything. But I do know someone who's only had an Indian meal once, she's totally averse to Indian cooking.
@ Nick: I love Indian food - my time in London saw me build up a tolerance to the spiceyness - it's hard to find over here though :-(
Yup potatoes all the way.
I used to have a cookbook that had over 200 ways to cook them.
But I always ended up either frying or mashing them.
Totally with you on the fat front, really cannot stand the stuff. It's the texture rather than the taste. I was generally a fairly fussy git as a kid, but that made absolutely no difference to my grandmother who would make me sit there until all the fish pie or beef heart or liver or whatever it was I wasn't keen on was eaten. Sometimes I enlisted the assistance of the dog (no evidence for later trouble that way) but that was of little use on spinach or broccoli.
@ Maxi: 200 ways - nah ! Boiled is the only way
@ Thrifty: I could have done with a dog but my Mum hated pets. you just reminded me about another food I hated - liver - yeuch!
Similar Irish memories, except in my house we had exotic food like spaghetti bolognese which my friends thought was well weird! Definitely showing my age. I'm back in Ireland now after some expat time and that childhood food is now sold as Retro and costs a fortune!
@ Niamh: Well weren't yiz well ahead of yer time - My sister made spag bol once and was banned from the kitchen for stinkin' it up
Haha I Had A Good Laugh At Your Post, i too have many fond memories about storis such as yours when i was a wee tike, eh good times tea time cherrio,
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