Take one Kangaroo tail

Yes, this is a real instruction from a real recipe. A few days ago I was flicking through some old cook books and discovered 'Kangaroo Fritters'. Clearly written at the height of the British Empire and the Commonwealth, I imagine it would now be somewhat difficult to find such ingredients at the local supermarket. However, as is the nature of humans, we often take things too far. Having moved from such laborious meals, you can now find most food items in some variation of the 'instant' variety. While fans of organic, free-range, something-free, food are currently living in a (naturally coloured) golden age, the wealth of choice offered to today’s consumers allows the same shop to sell eggs with smiling chickens on the box and instant pancake mix (which probably doesn’t even contain eggs from sad chickens).

Don’t get me wrong, I consider microwave pizza one of mankind’s greatest achievements, I love Chinese take away, and believe that, in the UK at least, bread should be shop bought (bread machines are the Devil’s pungent work). But ham shaped like a bear, really? Food is so much more than fuel. While I will agree that smell is probably the most stimulatory of the senses when it comes to memories, taste isn’t far behind. Food is such an important part of our lives, my parents once vowed, were we ever to find ourselves in financial trouble, we would sacrifice almost everything, but good food.  

With my mother’s parents being one of six and seven children each, cooking for a large table has become a continued habit, despite there only being three of us two generations later. This has led to me being able to eat portions meant for an entire family, and as such I have always left restaurants and friend’s houses feeling like I’ve just been nibbling at the bread basket. No matter how often I am exposed to other people’s eating habits the thing that I still find most shocking is the lack of home cooked food. It with increasing frequency and increasing disappointment that I see people attending cake sales with shop bought cakes! This is nothing short of blasphemy in our house. A house where cook books have their own bookcase, and are read as bedtime reading, huge folders full of recipes and cuttings fight for space on the shelves, and the omission of a familiar seasoning from a much loved dish can be tasted straight away, and suitably condemned. While it is a joy to see people’s delight as they sample my mother’s desserts (they are her speciality), the look of surprise on their faces and their exclamations of amazement are almost sad. Home baking should not be such a rare treasure, except for Kangaroo Fritters perhaps.