Tags
France, Garlic.France.Italy.Holland.Ingmar Bergman.Sweden.The Seventh Seal.Max Von Sydow., Greece, Italy.Greece.
We are all totally aware that good nutritional food doesn’t need to cost any more than rubbish food. In fact it cost less. However, the notion that it does (cost more) seems to doggedly persist. Here is a rebuttal but don’t take it as the gospel, even though the gospel tells some real furphies as well. Take what you like, ditch the rest as they say at AA.
Good tasty food was always the domain of the poor who had to make do with what grew in the wild, or in the case of farmers, managed to grow on small plots of land. So, in Italy it was pasta with garlic and herbs, for the lucky few some salted grated cheese on top. In France it was much the same but there were the added bits of chicken or sometimes wild boar. To give taste, it was always the herbs that gave the helping hand, more so than the actual ingredients. In Greece, with olives and more, olives, fish and more fish, but always garnished with herbs and fragrant oils. The poor knew how to add flavour no matter in what country they resided in with the help of herbs.
In England, I don’t know but I suspect, the eating might well have been more punishment, although bread pudding is a dish I still remember with some joy. In Holland, raw salted herrings with mashed spuds with preserved cabbage (zuurkool) kept many alive. The Scandinavians got their vitamin intake during those long and dark sombre winters from berries found in the wild by bearded men clothed in reindeer skins (while watching The Seventh Seal. ‘Det sjunde inseglet’ directed by Ingmar Bergman with that forbidden (ing) character Max Von Sydow, playing chess).
I am amazed that despite all the cookery books and the TV Master-chefs shows and all the attention on food that more and more people seem to be overfed but undernourished. Perhaps it is ‘because’ of that attention on food. The poor ate out of hunger, a necessity to stay alive. Perhaps we eat in order to eat, a past-time or like a hobby. Has anyone noticed that we now eat and drink while in motion, walking the streets we are chewing away, driving a car we are chewing, shopping we are chewing. In the trains and busses we are chewing. Jaws going up and down everywhere now.
Do we need to get poor again? How can people claim it cost more to eat healthy food than unhealthy food? How much the cost of pasta with garlic and a sprinkling of grated parmesan? Or, chicken thighs with carrots and spuds, or Lebanese bread with sliced olives, tomatoes and some anchovies in the oven? How much does it cost for some chuck steak stewed with potatoes, carrots, onions, capsicum with the help of a bit of turmeric, chilli, aniseed, a couple of cloves, cinnamon? You can cook those meals for a lot less than a night out at MacDonald’s or KFC’s and are tastier.
The main thing, it seems, might be to go back to when we ate out of hunger, not because of boredom or for lack of something to do. Or so it seems to me.

I think that stress must change people’s cravings. Maybe irrevocably.
I don’t think that you can say that people who eat junk food are stupid. All people who smoke are not stupid. All people who drink are not stupid. All people who take drugs are not stupid. All people who drive too fast are not stupid. All people who become addicted to computer games are not stupid.
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You are talking about an idyllic situation, and that is not what many people experience. The kind of “simplicity” and “poverty” here is the “simplicity” and “poverty” of affluence.
Depression, boredom, overcrowding, unemployment, addiction, disability – any one of these factors – and many more – could make this idyll crumble. And what you’ll have then is a terrible sadness and a need to fill that.
Sadness. Sadness asks for chocolate and more chocolate. More, more! And yet all the chocolate in the world is still not enough! It’s a paradox.
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Indeed Lehan,
All I can do is my best and that is so boring. I rarely eat junk food, I don’t smoke, I don’t drink too much, don’t take drugs, don’t drive too fast, not addicted to computer games. Jeeeez, it is sooo boring.
I smell a freshly lit cigarette and almost feel like asking the person for a nice drag again. (just one more time)
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Rustic food.
.
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I do like a good double entendre.
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Food porn
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Food porn on Gez’s born-again food story…
Nice pic of young Gordon by the way 🙂
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I was happy then. The other picture was for Warrigal to apply to the Father O’Way series. I simply tried to keep a neutral face, very difficult for me. It is a shame you thought of it as a sadsack
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Gorrrd, Gordon, I almost said earlier, they must have been happy days when this pic was taken..
Warrigal likes to play with other people’s pictures but is too ‘shy’ to show his 🙂
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Yeah! Lazy bitches. Why the fuck can’t they stop off on the way home from work and buy a roast like we all do? Or get organised enough to have some beef and vegetables in the fridge FFS? Waiting until 9:00 for dinner will teach their appalling offspring some discipline, and washing up afterwards is precious bonding time for the parents. And if the father’s not there it’s probably the her fault anyway. Bet she doesn’t even know who the father IS half the time!
WTF are they doing living in large houses with no garden anyway? Everybody knows that if you’re too lazy to maintain a garden you should live in a charming terrace in Paddington or a lovely sandstone cottage in Balmain where you can walk to work to save the environment. And if you’re too poor (Ewww) to do that, you should raise your kids in an apartment building. Really, what are the poor doing having children anyway?
If you’re a bit low on cash one week to afford meat there’s always pasta. No fat poor people in Italy!
And don’t tell me it’s none of our business. Our taxes are paying for their health care! I don’t see why we should be expected to support people who’d rather have a heart attack than eat properly.
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Gee Voice, why don’t you tell us how you really feel? Just sayin……
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Bwilliant wage, Voive.
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Tourettes, like debts, must be contagious.
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Don’t forget to keep your dictionary close by 😉
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VL, I don’t think that ato needs dictionaries, he is a dictionary, the words just jump out of his mouth and pen…: )
Sometimes when Warrigal uses those weird words like ‘discombobulate’ i check the meaning, but being too lazy , most times I just try to guess it..what about you? 🙂
Where are your promised stories?
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My Dad remembers the post-war years as being particularly poor. Families did die of starvation. His family survived on rabbit (which all of the teenagers had to catch) and home grown vegetables. Mum’s family owned a bakery (likewise, everyone worked in the shop) and often ate stale pies, etc.
Whist the rabbits and the left over pies may have gone, there are still bargains to be had, and it’s always cheaper to cook a roast than to to go the golden arches.
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When I’m on my own. I love to cook chips ‘n eggs. I chop up some spuds -any old way- and then fry them until they’re done at which point I toss a couple of lightly beaten googies. Salt, pepper and, if I could be bothered, some parsley. If I could be bothered even more, I’d toss in some roughly chopped onions just before the eggs.
Kids used to go crazy over them when they waz young.
On a plate with a couple of slices of tomato. Easy pleaseyyyy!
Come to think of it, I used to tell my class (English) how to cook this and many kids who used to work for the arches and were actually offered free gunk, told me they’d rather cook this dish for themselves and their dysfunctional family.
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Atomou, you’ve mentioned the chips ‘n’ bum nuts before. What interests me is the fact that the history teacher has managed to, not only imbue the kids with a love for all things Greek, ancient and new, but also changed their eating habits, and their family’s!
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Fitzroy HIgh, Big one. 99% ethnic, very poor and with much family turmoil. Most of the kids worked in Mackas, or KFC or Woolies. Went there straight after school and didn’t get home until quite late. Those working at Mackas were telling me often they didn’t get home till past midnight.
I remember getting slightly angry at one class because hardly any of them had done any homework -in fact that was probably the last time I’ve ever given any “compulsory” homework. One of the kids made this lack of time clear to me in no uncertain and very eloquent terms, by pointing out exactly what nearly all of them did straight after school. It opened my eyes very widely and immediately.
Henceforth, they did their work in class, with me there to answer their questions, look over their work and teach them at the same time. Homework was a suggestion and voluntary.
The lesson on the chips and bum nuts came out of some essay, the genre of which was “Personal.” I can’t remember how or why I launched into cooking simple but tasty dishes but since that first time, I made sure that all of my classes, no matter what the subject I was teaching at the time, got that lesson, in some form or other. Not only did the kids love it but the parents also were thankful. It brought to their attention the fact that their kids were capable of something; and that the kids felt proud that they could do the cooking in the house; and that this practice has broken a lot of ice in the household, often consisting of single parents.
As for the myths and stories from ancient Greece, you could hear a pin drop in those classrooms every time I told them!
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Atomou, I wish that you had been at my high school!!
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Yeah, that would have meant he wasn’t at mine
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Why, Bless you, sister!
You’ve made my day!
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“Crumbs” said Warrigal, lampooning the “wingco”, “That’s torn it!”
“What’s up old man? enquired Bigglesworth, shifting in his mess chair.
“Stone the bloody crows Biggles; its Algy’s birthd’y and we hain’t got ‘im a cake!”
“Where’s that old bulldog spirit Warrigal? A good scout is always prepared.” Biggles looked self assured and winked at the Australian.
As if on cue Algy came in through the main mess doors just as Henderson, the officer’s cook, came out of the kitchen carrying a splendid cake.
There was nothing else for it. Warrigal rushed over to the mess piano and began belting out a decidedly rowdy antipodean rendition of “Happy Birthday”. As Biggles wrangled Algy to the centre of the room, Henderson placed the cake on the table and the gathered officers all joined in singing.
“Happy Birthday dear Algy, Happy birthday to you.
They’d had just enough time to scoff down a few wedges of cake when the claxon went and they were all running for their Spitfires. Algy’s celebration would have to wait until the Luftwaffe had been dealt with.
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Wonderful Waz, thank you very much.
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The cake was splendid.
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All you cooks, Viv, ato and Gez, have you made a nice birthday cake for Algernon…not too late…
I’m going to buy some nice Danish pastries to celebrate Algy’s big day..I’m not a cake person, but I’ll have Champagne to- night.
Happy Birthday, Algernon! From me and from Him too.!
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I’ll do a virtual cake. I only have one which is suitable – a carrot sponge cake decorated with strawberries and dusted with icing sugar. It never lasts long – gone within the hour.
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Viv, I’ll always have some carrot cake, also good banana bread goes down well.
Strawberries ,the icing on anything, have been good and cheap so far…
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Thank you ladies, the cakes has gone down a treat.
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Quite right, Gez.
It’s not only a false economy of money but also of time. Those KFC patrons will protest that they don’t have the time to cook anything, though they are prepared to drive, often out of their way to their take-away and then wait till it gets served, the “it” being junk with neither flavour nor nourishment but with loads of poisonous that will attack the heart and the arteries and pile on the blabber.
The worst contributor, though is the fact that few houses now have any space at all even for the tiniest vegie patch, so no one has any connection to the food and its growing, most vital to humans. That, too “takes money and time!”
Kitchens, too, are also built so they are almost useless. A couple of weeks ago I “inspected” a house -one of two units. Two stories, four poky little rooms, four dunnies, not a postal-stamp piece of soil to grow even a daisy, and two kitchens that must have competed for the most useless kitchens in the world prize.
The “house” was pulled from the auction when it reached $960,000! They wanted their million, I think! Just around the corner from us, where we had bought our house, only 13 years ago, for $180,000! Beautiful place with great back and front yards. One cannot help but being astonished and one cannot help but remember Howard’s outrageously stupid remarks that related wealth with the sharp increases of the price of houses.
It’s a social engineering thing!
Occupiers, go for it!
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The houses get bigger and the blocks of land get smaller. Only a few inches between them and they look awful. The garden is a hankerchief. You have to buy an acre or two for a small fortune or an older house with a garden but they too are expensive because of the value of the land. It is a mess. Hang on to your house Ato and keep growing those vegies in your hot house watered by your new recycled tanks.
Gerard is right but he omits the lazy factor. People might have the time but not the inclination. I think Masterchef is actually encouraging people to cook for themselves. The children are doing wonderful stuff and they are a good omen for the future of cooking and eating …. I think!
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We certainly think we shall, Vivie. We get an enormous pleasure out of working in the patch and eating its fruits. Peaches galore, last year. Tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchini, capsicums, eggplants… olives!
And the kitchen is large enough for both of us to work and chat in at the same time. It’s a hearth! Love it.
And I know that if we do sell the place -or if our children do, then one of those blocks of matchboxes will be built in its place immediately!
Very sad, this.
I think you’re right about Masterchef and the kids but what’s the point if those kids will not be able to put their interests into practice when they grow up?
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