There wasn’t much cooking done in our house when we were kids. Alcoholics don’t tend to have much of an appetite. These were the days before frozen foods and McDonald's, so us kids delighted in living on jam sandwiches and milk.
At school in Home Economics class, we learned how to bake bread…….for three whole years. When I presented the result of my baking endeavours to my father, he made a hole in it, put some twine through the hole, tied it around the dog’s neck and threw him in the paddling pool in the back yard. We didn’t live near a river, but I think he made his point perfectly.
When I bought my own house, I got a top of the range kitchen fitted. It was like a mausoleum. There wasn’t a mark on it when I sold the place four years later.
More recently, with some understanding of nutrition, I decided to try my hand at a few recipes from the internet, and one Christmas created seven different dishes for dinner, all of which tasted like cardboard. My partner blindfolded me and challenged me to tell them apart by taste alone and just like that, my cooking days were over.
These days we eat only raw food in our house. It’s best that way.
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