The home of hungry readers
For mother’s picnics were planned on a tribal scale, with huge preparations beforehand… There were sliced cucumbers and pots of paste, radishes, pepper and salt, cakes and buns and macaroons, soup-plates of bread and butter, jam, treacle, jugs of milk, and several fresh-made jellies.
(Laurie Lee, Cider with Rosie)
I do love a picnic. Whilst the vagaries of the English weather can make picnics a hit and miss affair, I still enjoy them. Continue reading “Picnic food”
Imagine us all sitting down to dinner; eight round a pot of stew. It was lentil-stew usually, a heavy brown mash made apparently of plastic studs. Though it smelt of hot stables, we were used to it, and it was filling enough – could you get it. But the size of our family outstripped the size of the pot, so there was never quite enough to go round. (Laurie Lee, Cider with Rosie)
I grew up in a large family: the only girl with three younger brothers. Whilst having many siblings brought its fair share of annoyances, there were also many advantages, not least the fact that there was always someone to play with or talk to (it would be an unusual occurrence to fall out with all three siblings simultaneously). Continue reading “Feeding a large family”
At rise of curtain, the four BIRLINGS and GERALD are seated at the table, with ARTHUR BIRLING at one end, his wife at the other, ERIC downstage, and SHEILA and GERALD seated upstage. EDNA, the parlour-maid, is just clearing the table, which has no cloth, of dessert plates and champagne glasses, etc., and then replacing them with decanter of port, cigar box and cigarettes. (J. B. Priestley, An Inspector Calls)
In most of my posts the food I write about plays an important role in the literary text and is described to a greater or lesser extent. Continue reading “Dinner is over”
They tried holding the whole carcass on a stake over the fire, but the stake burnt more quickly than the pig roasted. In the end they skewered bits of meat on branches and held them in the flames: and even then almost as much boy was roasted as meat. (William Golding, Lord of the Flies) Continue reading “Food and Savagery”