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Carolyn’s Story.

Carolyn’s Story.

What a delightful way to finish this series of Sunday Sessions….Kitchen Stories!

This bundle of recollections kindly came to us from one of my many special sisters. It is amazing to see the parallels within our memories, & I feel honoured & grateful to have shared these awesome experiences with her…thank you Miss C.

(the 4th child)

My Kitchen Story:

My memories and emotions all centre on the slow combustion stove. The smell of the burning wood, the warmth that radiated from it and the food that it transformed into hearty meals still floods me with a sense of belonging today.

I chopped the wood for as long as I can remember and collected or chopped the kindling that started a fire or offered dwindling fires a chance at new life.

The hearth, for me was the life of the house, waking to the smell of toast on a chilly morning or coming in from working in the cold to a hot hearty soup still lingers in my heart today. Our food was fairly plain but there was always plenty of it and my favourite food was leftover lamb and beetroot toasted sandwich…really!

 

I remember lashings of mashed potato served with peas and roast lamb, tomato pie and lamb shanks, home-made bread and jams, ice-cream and jelly.

I don’t think I had a loaf of sliced bread until I left home, we had a bread slicer, a serrated knife with a guard on it so all our slicing was done in the kitchen and our bread was always thick…so was our toast.

Butter was on everything because we made our own, it came from the cream on the milk in our dairy.

We had homemade scones and biscuits, pies and breads, when I think back to the natural way in which our food was grown and prepared I realise how blessed I was.

Mum always busy preparing food in some way, things were baking while she was washing the clothes, cooking in the pressure cooker while she helped Dad in the paddock, drying or frying was happening while she bathed the babies…talk about multi-tasking!

          

I tended to work outside the house so the domestic daily chores were not part of my childhood but where I was involved was in the preparation and preserving…especially the preserving.

Dad would buy or be given bags of fruit and we would prepare it for preserving. I remember looking at towering shelves of preserved peaches, pears, apricots and plums, pickles, sauces and tomatoes waiting to feed the masses through the winter months.

Mum used to make us whistle when we were shelling walnuts or peeling fruits so we wouldn’t eat them. She used to call from another room if we got quiet to remind us to leave them alone. Green apples, tomatoes, walnuts, quinces, blackberries, gooseberries, all these gifts of nature would pass through our hands to be prepared for the pantry.

  

Growing up on a farm with 10 brothers and sisters taught me to appreciate the cycle of food production, tend the earth that nurtures it, to share the joy of the harvests and celebrate the feast with family.

It gave me a love of freshness and simple flavours, gratitude for hard work and small wonders and a joy for the changing seasons.

The kitchen in our farmhouse is still one of my most clear and cherished memories.

How delightful….thankyou again Miss C xx

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4 Comments
  1. If only we could bottle the spirit and kindness of your family then perhaps a lot of the problems in the world could be sorted. Whole foods from wholesome lives. Love,life and deliciousness!

    • Oh Marzy..that is so kind of you to say! Thank you! Yes, those were the good old days. And we have some awesome ones here now too…:)) cheers, love Roni xx

  2. What a wonderful description of farm life. But, I must admit, as a city boy, it sounds more like a depiction from more than century ago.

    • lol, thanks Roy :)) I won’t tell her (my sister) that you said that…she’s really not that old! She does have a way with words though, & it really was another lifetime :)) cheers xx

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