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Showing posts with label Aunties. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aunties. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Auntie Jean's Apple Macaroon

(From Mary Knox)




My dear Auntie Jean was a good cook. She had to be - Uncle George was a judge, and his fellow judges and other bigwigs had to be entertained at dinner parties. On one memorable occasion she served up a lovely dinner: and when they had all gone home she discovered the serving dish of peas still sitting in the warming drawer!

But for more normal family occasions she had some unassuming recipes. This one has become a great favourite in our family. It's the easiest apple dessert I know. You can tell how much we love it from the state of the recipe card.


Method:

Peel and slice 5-6 apples (apples were smaller in those days in Canada, so you may only need 3 or 4). Put them in a buttered pie dish.

Sprinkle over them a scant half cup of sugar, with a little cinnamon mixed into it.

Cream 4 tablespoons of butter (that's about a quarter of a cup or 2 ounces). Beat in a small half cup of sugar then 1 egg, then half a cup of flour sifted with a pinch of salt. Spread it over the apples.

Bake for 30 minutes in a moderate oven.

Variations:
This has a slightly crunchy top. If you prefer a more cakey top, add a quarter of a teaspoon of baking powder to the flour. I sometimes put in a few blackberries. Or you can use plums instead of apples - in that case increase the sugar on the fruit to 3/4 of a cup, use slightly more flour in the mixture, and omit the cinnamon. I plan to try it with apricots some time.

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Not-as-good-as-last-year’s Christmas pudding


(From Johanna Knox)

Makes two good-sized puddings – one for your family, and one to give away.


This pudding recipe has travelled down at least five generations. My great-great grandmother made it; perhaps it goes back further.

Each generation adapted it or added to it. BUT the vital secret ingredient for 70 years or more has been that you must, at some point, say, ‘I’m sure it isn’t as good as last year’s.’

How this tradition came to be, no one now knows, though I wonder if it began with my grandmother (left), who was of a very anxious disposition.

Family members are divided over whether you say it when tasting the batter, or as you’re serving it cooked. But whichever way, it’s imperative.


Ingredients:

1 pound butter

¾ pound sugar

1 ¼ pounds flour

1 ½ teaspoons baking soda

¼ pound slivered or chopped almonds

¼ pound peel

1 packet crystallised ginger (chop if big bits)

1 packet raisins

1 ½ pounds dates, chopped

½ pound currants

1 – 1 ½ pounds sultanas

¼ pound ground almonds

8 eggs

1 dessertspoon full of golden syrup

A wine glass of brandy

Vanilla and almond essence to taste

Prepare two large squares of unbleached calico: wash or boil ahead of time to get any filler out, and dry.


Method:

Cut up butter into small pieces and use fingers to rub in sugar, flour and baking soda.

Mix together well: almonds, peel, crystallised ginger, raisins, dates, currants, sultanas, and ground almonds. Stir these into the rubbed butter mix.

In a separate bowl, mix eggs, golden syrup, brandy, vanilla essence and almond essence.

Pour liquid ingredients into dry ingredients and mix well,

Flour the calicao squares very well, rubbing flour into and in between the fibres.

Dump half the pudding mix into the middle of one cloth, and tie it up in a bundle – with string or a strip of cloth, leaving a little space for expansion at the top.  The string should be tied very tightly. Make a loop for removing the pudding later.

Do the same with the other half of the pudding mix – into the second square of calico.

Fill a stockpot half full of water, with an old plate in the bottom of the pot to prevent burning.

Bring to the boil. Put in one pudding.

Boil for 6 hours, topping up the water when necessary and keeping it on a gentle boil all the time. (The pudding will float so you won’t ever get the water completely covering it.)

After 6 hours, remove pudding from still-boiling water and hang it.

Repeat with the second pudding, or if you have two stockpots, do them at the same time.

Hang puddings for a week or more.


To serve:

On the day of serving, retie the pudding as it will have shrunk, and don’t leave any expansion space at the top – retie it close to the pudding.

Reboil for an hour or more.

Take it out of the calico and put it on a plate. Pour warmed brandy over (about a quarter to half a cup) and set alight before bringing to table.

Serve with brandy sauce and whipped cream.

There will be a white crust on the outside, which traditionally most of the family likes when hot, but if leftovers are served later cold, they remove the crust.


When cold it’s nice with golden syrup.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Pickled Vegetables and Caramel Pudding (not TOGETHER!!)

(from Paulette Robinson)


These recipes are another two from Paulette.  Her mother, Carole Charles, was also my Auntie Carole.  Though not an actual aunt, she was a part of my life and my family from the day I was born.  She and my father had grown up together in Wellington; they were like cousins, and Paulette and I are the same way.  When my mum died in 2004, Auntie Carole was one of the rocks in my life.  When she too was diagnosed with terminal cancer, only two years after mum, the sadness was indescribable.  The loss of Carole was the loss of another of the mums of the group of families I grew up with.  It was the end of an era of the friendship of that group of mothers, who supported each other, cooked together, and argued together too!  These recipes are part of the book that Paulette made when she decided to start collecting recipes from family and friends.  Carole wrote them out for her, and my favourite part is right at the bottom where she has written a note to Paulette.

Not necessarily to be eaten together, enjoy Carole's pickled vegetables and caramel pudding!

(I have deciphered Carole's handwriting - and that was not easy! - PLEASE check her copy and if anyone sees a mistake, let me know straight away!!).

Emma



Pickled Vegetables
Boil 2 pints white vinegar, 2 cups water, 2 cups sugar, 1tsp salt.
Cool
Chop peppers, carrots, celery, cucumber, cauliflower, zucchini, beans.
Fill jars loosely with the vegetables.
Add bay leaf, crushed garlic clove, a little more salt.
Pour over liquid.
Keep in fridge.
Leave four days, at least.

Caramel Pudding
Vitamise:
1 cup brown sugar
2 Tbsp flour
2 egg yolks
2 cups milk
A spot of vanilla

Bring to the boil stirring.
Add 1 Tbsp butter.
Boil for 2 hours.
When cold, add beaten egg whites.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Aunty Jean's Christmas Pie

(from Mary Knox)


My mother's sister Jean Owen was perhaps the loveliest person I've ever known - gentle, kind and gracious.

When our daughters were little we spent a Christmas season in Montreal, and I remember Auntie Jean saying she would make a "Christmas Pie" for a special lunch. We had no idea what this would be, though later I realised I had seen Auntie Jean knitting unobtrusively for a while ...

Anyway, on the lunch table was a cake-shaped decoration made of cardboard and paper, with ribbons radiating from it, each going to a place with a child's name attached. When they were told to, each child slowly pulled the ribbon, and drew from inside the pie a little gift. The girls each got a tiny doll with knitted nightie and sleeping bag.

That was typical of Auntie Jean's thoughtfulness. She was a good cook too, but that's another story.




                         
  Jean Owen in 1964




Sunday, December 11, 2011

Three disasters for the price of one!

(from Paulette Robinson)

Today, lucky followers, you get three recipes kindly contributed by Paulette, from her mother, Carole Charles.  Carole was also "Auntie Carole" to Emma, who was the beneficiary of Carole's creativity up until the time she died in 2007.

Carole was known to be a great cook, however when dishes were served up they were put on the table with a qualifier of "It's a disaster, I completely mucked it up, I left an important ingredient out, I let something burn, I ruined it, you don't have to eat it, it's awful...."  It was only newcomers whose eyes widened at the thought of the ruined food they were obviously going to have to eat anyway, as it was being dished up on their plate at that very moment.  The more seasoned recipients knew they were about to taste yet another delicacy from Kitchen Carole.

As the kids got older we would get in first: "Here's Carole's disaster, oh no it looks TERRIBLE, we can't eat THAT, we'll DIE of food poisioning!!!", then everyone would merrily dig in and enjoy as Carole told us all to shush up.

Carole contributed these recipes when Paulette was collecting from family and friends for her own recipe book.  Paulette has kindly "translated" Carole's handwriting, and here are the three goodies:

Gefilte Fish
Use a mix of three fish – Snapper, Cod etc.
To the minced fish add: a slice of soaked bread, one egg, pepper, salt, 1 T/Spoon sugar, 1 small minced onion.
Add cold water – up to 1 cup but keep firm.
Roll into balls and fry.
Stew in water with sliced carrot or better still tetra packed stock very gently for 1 hour.

Yum Potatoes
Slice potatoes
Slice fennel and put in lemon water
Heat milk, cream, garlic, salt and pepper
Put in oven – grill off.
 
Grandma Corn’s Almond Cake

¼ lb butter      
Small cup sugar
½ lb flour 
1 t/sp baking powder
1 large egg
Almond essence
Pinch salt

1.  Beat butter & sugar.
2.  Add eggs & essence then dry ingredients.
3.  Put half in the tin and spread apricot jam on top, then add other half.
4.  Press almonds all over top.
5.  Bake at 350/180 .


Paulette and Carole

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Aunty Nina’s Green Pie

Nina was determined that nothing should ever be wasted, and so recipes that used leftovers were vital to her repertoire. Yesterday's cold rice, for example, became today's Green Pie.

It was one of those odd, gimmicky recipes that I recall 70s and 80s home cooks being fond of ... Nina used to chuckle over the way it was an inside-out pie - with the protein in the crust and the carbs in the filling.

(Around this time I also remember Nina, my mother, and their friends discovering self-crusting quiche - great excitement!)

Ingredients
mince
salt
a couple of cups or so of cold rice
green veges including a decent handful of spring onion
grated cheese

Method
Mix salt into the mince.
Press the mince around the edges of a casserole dish, so it lines it like a pie crust.
Blanche green veges - except for spring onions.
Drain green veges and chop into pieces.
Finely chop spring onions.
Mix all green veges into rice. Add salt too, if necessary.
Fill the raw mince crust with the rice/vege mix.
Grate cheese on top.
Bake in oven until meat crust is cooked through. 



Thursday, October 6, 2011

Aunty Nina's Party Leftover Rolls

(from Johanna Knox)

My Aunt Nina loved parties and festive food. At her burial we ceremonially threw liqueur chocolates onto her coffin - the ones my Mum was going to give her for her birthday in two weeks' time.

In Nina's younger days, she used any excuse to invite a bunch of friends round for a celebration.

Although everyone always brought a plate, she loved to provide plenty of food herself, and spent the day before the event making punch, chocolate eclairs, and more.

I was fascinated one time when, faced with left-over ingredients from making quiche, sausage rolls, and a cheese log, she threw them together and made a whole new plate of savories:

Ingredients
A few frozen peas
A handful of chopped cooked bacon
a couple of spoonfuls of cream cheese
Leftover flaky pastry

To make
Roll the pastry and cut into strips as if you were making sausage rolls.
Smear down the middle of the strips with cream cheese.
Scatter on the bacon and peas.
Roll up like sausage rolls.
Bake.

I periodically had cravings for these for years afterwards!


Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Aunty Nina’s Iced Jaffa Coffee

(from Johanna Knox)


Ingredients
2 or 3 oranges
A plungerful of hot coffee
1 heaped tablespoon of cocoa
1 heaped tablespoon of sugar
¼ cup water
Vanilla ice cream

Instructions
Slice unpeeled oranges into rounds and place in bowl or jug.

Boil cocoa, sugar and water together and mix with the freshly brewed coffee to make a mocha mix.

Pour hot mocha mix over sliced oranges and leave to steep. When cool, place in refrigerator to continue steeping till morning.

Remove orange slices and serve the iced jaffa coffee over scoops of icecream. (You can also eat the mocha-infused orange slices.)

Alter ratios to taste.


Backstory
My aunt Nina had died two days ago. Shaken and restless, I ranged between the two rooms of her bedsit, peering into cupboards, rifling through drawers. I apologised:  ‘I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’ll know it when I find it …’

I didn’t want to elaborate to my father or sister, who were industriously sorting books, clothes, and crockery. I was embarrassed at the sudden narrowness of my focus, and the terrible childish drive that had taken over: Nina had loved to cook, and I wanted to be the one who found her recipes. 

But what did they look like? Were they handwritten cards? Books? Clippings? I couldn’t remember. When I finally gave up and joined the sorting, I confessed my folly.

The next day, my sister and father, excavating deeper, rang to say they’d hit recipes afterall and, being kind and careful archaeologists, had left them for me in situ.

I was excited, until I saw the small, grubby pile they were talking about. Free recipe cards from the supermarket, clippings cut from Tegel chicken wrappers, yellowed appliance manuals ... Not  a single recipe I remembered Nina using.

‘But didn’t she mostly cook from her head?’ my partner Walter reminded me that evening.

Of course!

Thinking back, I'd rarely seen a written recipe in her hand. Her repertoire consisted of family dishes she’d had down pat for years, party foods her friends had shown her, and numerous of her own inventions and adaptations. Wherever Nina had now gone – somewhere or nowhere – she’d taken her recipe file with her.

So now I search my own memories trying to bring up details of recipes she showed me, or cooked while I watched from her kitchen table. I’ve pieced together five so far, and this is the first I’ve written down.