Peas and Peanut Butter

I am currently catching up with the latest series of ‘Back in Time….’ One earlier iteration focusing on, clear from the occupation of the father, a middle-class family living in ‘middle England’, was entitled ‘Back in Time for Dinner’. This time around dad is a miner and the setting is ‘up North’ which explains the programme name change to ‘Back in Time for Tea’. Stereotypical is might be, but growing up in a working-class Northern family myself I still at times revert to ‘dinner’ rather than lunch’ and ‘tea’ rather than ‘dinner’ or ‘supper’ (which is after all a snack before bed). Well, you can take the girl out of Liverpool but ….

My dad’s time in the army at the end of World War II, and his subsequent holiday explorations of Europe before meeting my mum, broadened his tastes and their engagement meal took place at my father’s favourite Chinese restaurant. From then on, when finances permitted, the Saturday visit to town always included such a meal. Once old enough to join in at first I wasn’t sure and I denied myself this treat asking instead for a plate of peas. My parents’ strategy of never forcing me to eat anything I didn’t want to worked (not only in this case) and on one memorable occasion I answered the waiter’s smiling question; ‘A plate of peas miss?’ with; ‘No thank you I’d like chicken chow mein please’. I never looked back.

The family taste buds were further developed when on leaving the city of all our births in the mid-1960s we lived in North and South Wales, London, Edinburgh, Sheffield, Blackburn and the Bahamas before settling in Cornwall four years later. Wherever we went we tried the local produce, with not surprisingly the Bahamian menu being the most exciting. I can still taste the fish chowder, banana pie and the guavas – picked from the trees that lined the road on the way to the beach - and my first taste of tuna, peanut butter and avocado took place during our nine month stay on the island of Nassau. I’ve written previously of some of our small family’s leaner periods* and there were less exotic meals at home and abroad. My penchant for round green vegetables was fortuitous given that mince and pea (heavy on the peas) curry was a regular tea-time meal during my teenage years as was home-made tinned peach pie and the mackerel given to my mum by the fishermen to whom she sold cigarettes and copies of the local newspaper.

My late husband John, ten years older than I, spent his whole childhood in Farnworth, near Bolton with meat and three veg (when they could afford it) and fish on Friday being the staple family diet. As the three boys grew and travelled further from home they returned with more eclectic tastes. Their mother rose to the challenge although sometimes could have done with a little more information that she was given. Still, I feel sure that the avocado generously covered in evaporated cream tasted interesting and I know that rather than upset their mum the brothers ate the bolognaise served with tinned spaghetti.

Feeling hungry now.

There’s a pizza in the fridge.

* https://www.abctales.com/story/gletherby/relative-poverty-reflecting-chi...