Flied Lice

Today

Travelling in the Pacific countries has yielded a range of international cuisine. All of the countries we‘ve visited are multi-cultural and proud of it. So we’ve eaten Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Turkish, French, American, Mexican, Italian foods in the last few weeks.

The New Zealanders, especially, are very fond of their bread & dips. Generally this means a massive heap of various types of bread, pesto and other dips of a pate-type consistency. They’re a meal in themselves we quickly found out or a starter for two or more to share.

We always enjoy plates of veggie antipasti with dolmades, artichokes, pitta, hummus, olives etc. I love Indian meals where I have about five different types of veg and dhal with my rice. The Japanese meal I had last night was a lovely mix of ginger flavoured rice and little dishes of tempura veg, dumplings & noodles. And there’s always Nachos

“I sometimes think,” I said to Paul “That we often sit down to meals that my mother wouldn’t have recognised as meals at all.”

In My Day

Mamma was a good cook and we ate well as children. Food was fresh (we had veg & fruit delivered weekly) and not overcooked or dull. Some of my school friends were astonished at the range of foodstuffs we ate so I think it was probably a feature of the times.

Mamma’s range was fairly limited and, looking back, I’m surprised at just how much packet soup was consumed. And I taught her how to make shepherd’s pie and apple crumble, having learnt how at school. There was the inevitable German touch to the diet, with Wiener Schnitzel, Frankfurters and Saurkraut making appearances regularly.

Mamma made proper fish and chips and I remember the batter she used to dip the cod and the vile ancient chip pan we used (It was never washed up and the lard only changed occasionally). She made steak and kidney pies but not puddings. Her only homemade soups seemed to be Tomato – at Christmas only and made with tinned tomato juice – and cauliflower which was very creamy and I recall rather salty. She rarely baked puddings, but did do a baked rice pudding – always served with tinned apricots and my brother David’s most hated dish – and the occasional pie. Once in a while she’d do some mid-European baking: caraway seed cake, German Plum cake (this had fresh plums sliced and cooked on top of the mixture) and an apple, rum and raisin cake.

But food was always served as meal of solid courses. There might be soup to start then a meat with vegetables course and a pud which was very often tinned fruit and bird’s custard. Each course was brought to the table in serving dishes or plates. I still have Mamma’s beautiful soup tureen. The idea that we might pick from a selection of little nibbly things and call it dinner was unthinkable. And there was no “foreign” food at all.

I first had Chinese food when I and friends used to pop into a restaurant in South Kensington after a Prom and share a couple of spring rolls and some fried rice. I’m embarrassed to say that we called it “Flied Lice” and in front of the waiters