Food memories are powerful things, both good and bad, but mostly good for everyone. The smells obviously and the steam and heat of the kitchen, a misted up window clouding the view into the garden on a wet February back in 62, or whenever it was. Clouding the view through the front room window as well.
Read MoreIt was my birthday last week and I wanted to cook a dish which was cooked regularly in our house when I was growing up, but I hadn’t had for over 40 years. My dad used to cook it and it’s barely a recipe, even so I’ve shied away from making it, just in case it wasn’t as good as his.
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