Its funny what you remember. As I start to peer down a sixty year old barrel my mind wanders back to childhood as if I'm skipping down our old ginnel again.
I had a mock kitchen when I was a kid, a sort of ramshackle lean-to tacked onto the back of my Dad's garage. I can't remember if it was a proper add-on or just a shanty thing my Dad made for me. It had windows I know that.
The cooking facilities comprised largely of a long work surface and a small 'cooker' made from an iron fire grate, which I put pans on. No flames were ever lit. It was all pretend and the menu featured mostly mud pies and butties, which I prepared with fresh ingredients on the counter.
There's something very pleasing about mud, especially making it. For some reason adding a little water to soil creates a thick creamy black chocolate paste worthy of Cadburys. I loved messing with mud back in the Sixties and made hundreds of sarnies for anyone who wanted to join in the play.
The bread slices were leaves. I must have stripped my Mum's variegated hollies down to the chlorophyll as I provided the whole house with plentiful rounds of sloppy sandwiches.
At some point the mud dried up. I put my big wooden spoon down for the last time and sadly my shanty kitchen was closed forever.
And yet the spirit of mud cooking lives on and my Grandson, Moonbase Junior, now has his own mud kitchen. Things have progressed since my day. Junior's hob is a pre-fabricated professional plaything bought on Amazon and delivered to the door, complete with pans and everything.
I've yet to sample Junior's mud menu but here's a pic of something like his kitchen.
My Mum would never have allowed it.
ReplyDeleteShe was very house-proud so didn't like her kids to get too dirty and mess the place up .
Mish.