How A Blog Found Its NameWednesday, January 26, 2011
When I first left home, nearly ten years ago, my mother gave me a recipe book. It was a dense, wire-bound book filled with crisp lined pages, into which she had sifted seventeen years of motherly love and fifty years of stirring, baking, chopping, burning, swearing, testing, tasting... It was filled with the flavours of home. How to roast a chicken and make Yorkshire puddings from scratch without having a nervous breakdown. How to throw together macaroni cheese when it’s grey and miserable outside and all you want is something simple, delicious and artery-destroying (it took me a long time to come to terms with how much butter goes into a cheese sauce. It’s a LOT).
My favourite recipe was the one for apple pie:
I do still go to parties, though. I mean, I’m not a total loser.