My son will learn his cooking from his dad, as I am the one who lives in and for the kitchen. I learned some of what I do from my mother, though far more was gleaned from books and (hard to admit) TV chefs, and from business and holiday travel. That imbalance means that I can sometimes be guilty of thinking we've moved beyond what my parents' generation did - and there are some horrors that reinforce that idea (Christmas turkeys weighing as much as Venus, for example). But often what she did is just how things should be done.
Take for example runner beans. I've tried various sexy ways to handle our glut, and with no great success. So at the weekend I did what she did, put them through a slicer lengthwise, steam, and serve with a dab of butter. They were superb, a vast quantity of them shifted with the beef.
As we don't manage to get to the allotment every day we end up with a rogue giant marrow now and then - the buggers can double in size if you turn your back for a minute. I've been feeling guilty about chucking them on the compost heap, as they don't fit in with any of the ways in which I do courgettes. So maybe it's about time I did the dedicated marrow dishes she used to bring to table. One method was to stuff and bake the marrow, the stuffing making up for the marrow's watery flavour; the other was steamed in cubes and served with a light and simple white or cheese sauce.
What a pity that for some kids now their memories of how mum 'cooked' will be limited to re-heating ready-meals and ringing for take-out, doing oven chips and micro-waving burgers.
