Travels in Foodie Heaven

Food was not a topic of much joy in my war-time childhood. Green ration books for us children, cream ones for adults. If you went shopping without them, it was a waste of time, and you had to get a bus back home to pick them up and start all over again, standing at the back of the queue at every shop.

The biggest foodie thrill I can remember back then was the one orange a year, stuffed in the bottom of my Christmas stocking. Things looked up slightly on my tenth birthday, the first I had ever spent with my father. (I was ten months old when he went to war in 1939, returning for two weeks leave in 1945, before finally coming home in 1947. But we only saw him for a month before he was posted to Belsen).We qualified for an army quarter by the time my birthday arrived, and joined him. To my parents’ horror it was the former home of the Beast of Belsen, the sadistic commandant of the concentration camp.

Knowing nothing of this, I concentrated on my birthday. My new parents took me for a treat to the Officers Club. The palace of the Princes of Hanover now served as the Officers Mess, where we children were allowed for the children’s Christmas party; it was held in the marbled, mirrored, chandeliered ballroom, with satin and gilt chairs to fall over during musical chairs. And the Prince’s hunting lodge deep in pine forests running with deer and wild boar, was now the Club.

The speciality of the German couple who ran it was their sugary doughnuts with butter cream and jam inside (Had the Hanoverian princelings also enjoyed these goodies before us?) I had never tasted anything like them -the nearest thing to heaven in my gastronomically deprived childhood. This may have been the moment when I became a foodie.

The next high point in my foodie career was staying in Vienne in central France a few years later. We were still on rationing in England at the time, and the rich French provincial food was a shock to my spartan system. But here I discovered real French bread. It was brought up from the village to the chateau by one of the maids every day, fresh and warm for breakfast. And in the afternoon a fresh supply was delivered to the kitchen by a boy on a bike. We children would gather illegally in the kitchen and annoy the maids by tearing into the warm bread and eating it with delectable runny confiture dripping onto the floor.

Malaya was another foodie milestone. We lived in a hotel on the edge of the sea in Penang for over a year, and ate in a dining room reminiscent of the forecourt of St Pauls Cathedral. Great pillars stretched the length of the ballroom. We walked this length between palms and pillars three times a day for every meal, and subsided at the end of it in the dining area, still pillared and palmed. We ate the same meals every week, in the same order and my favourite day was Friday when we had nasi goring, the only nod in the direction of the local cuisine.

I’ve tried to get Malayan friends to replicate it, I’ve tried myself, but nothing has ever had the same texture, tastes, variety and delicacy. I can copy most of the culinary joys of the past, but that one has proved impossible – it’s just a fragrant regretted memory.

In Majorca, when few people had even heard of it, at a little fishing village called Cala Ratjada, we stayed in the first hotel to be built there,( there are now over fifty) which they were just finishing, and the water for the shower came speeding through the bidet, and the hand basin only had water in short bursts. But down by the sea was a fish restaurant, and there I tasted two foodie classics, a genuine paella, and a lobster salad which is still fresh in my memory. I was beginning to sensitise my taste buds.

France a year later, this time a hamlet somewhere between San Tropez and Le Lavandou, where every meal eaten under the vine covered terrace was like ambrosia – never a dud. My lasting memories of this bliss were the fresh croissants for breakfast with unsalted butter and delicious homemade apricot jam, and aoli.  Eating aoli was like discovering the secret of culinary life- the simplicity of it, the exquisiteness of it, the white china, the perfect egg, the salad and the aoli. I decided there and then that I’d learn to make it when I had my own kitchen. (Living in an officers mess didn’t give me much scope for cooking experiments at the time.)

Later, driving back from Bonn with a girlfriend, we stopped at Aix (shades of “How they brought the good news from Aix to Ghent!”) for a coffee. We ordered rum babas and though it was fifty years ago, I can still remember the shocked delight at the taste of the rum and the cream and the yeasty cake. They were a benchmark for all rum babas eaten since, and none of them have measured up to the rum babas of Aix. We sat by a river in the sun, with dappled leaves reflected in the water, tall, grey eighteenth century buildings lining the other side of the road.

The next foodie revelation was staying with an old school friend in Winchester, who had become a talented cook in one year of marriage. We started the meal with shrimps in mayonnaise in half a pear, a very 50’s thingie and followed this with roast duck and orange. By the time we got to the crème brulee poor Brenda had fled the room to cope with not morning sickness, but evening sickness.

Her husband and I somewhat unconcernedly tackled the heavenly crème brulee she had left behind. I’d never tasted it before, cream not having been freely available in my past, so this was another taste bud sensation. To this day I can’t go past crème brulee however much I may have eaten beforehand.

Hong Kong? Oh yes, lots of lovely Chinese dishes, but what I remember from those days was the bombe Alaska at a place called Jimmy’s Kitchen. A girl friend and I would skip out from the office at lunchtime and order a bombe Alaska each. Fortified by this self-indulgent mix of sponge and fruit and ice-cream, brandy and meringue, we would totter reluctantly back to our desks to resume writing our boring little stories about fashion parades and new cosmetics for the woman’s pages.

So now, after a lifetime of enjoying food, here in New Zealand, land of milk and manukau honey, what gluttonous delights light my fire? Well, there are two things I cannot live without these days. One is a nice cup of tea. And the other is a nice cup of coffee!

Food for Threadbare Gourmets

When the crusty Duke of Wellington came back from his campaigns in foreign parts, legend has it that all he wanted was a slice of hot buttered toast. What he was talking about was comfort food, and it’s different for each of us. Mine is cornflakes if I’m on my uppers, or creamy mashed potatoes, or scrambled egg. My husband believes that scrambled egg is the apex of my culinary skills, but others have been known to recoil in horror clutching their hearts, when they discover how many eggs and how much butter and cream have gone into them!

For your run of the mill ordinary breakfast scrambled egg, I use a generous sized walnut of butter, and about two tablespoons of milk. I melt them, and then break the eggs in and stir to mix. The trick is to have the buttered toast ready, and then stir the scrambled egg in the pan very gently so it forms large curds. Cook it very slowly, if it’s cooked too fast, it becomes stringy, tough and watery. As soon as the curds are almost cooked, I tip it onto the waiting toast, as it still goes on setting while it’s hot. For softer, creamier scrambled eggs, add more butter and use cream – delectable.

Food for Thought

Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its labourers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children.

From a speech in Washington in 1953, by President Dwight. D. Eisenhower 1890 -1969


Filed under colonial life, cookery/recipes, culture, family, food, great days, humour, life/style, The Sound of Water, Thoughts on writing and life, world war two

34 responses to “Travels in Foodie Heaven

  1. Alice

    What a culinary planet tour. Funny how flavors remain in memory.


  2. Amy

    Enjoy reading your Foodie Heaven stories!


  3. Wonderful thoughts! It reminds me that that food has a way of bringing people and places together! Where there is food – there is fun and fellowship!!!


  4. Thank you for sharing your wonderful, delightful gastronomic experiences from all over the world!


  5. This was such a pleasure to read. You have not only described the food in the most delicious way but gave it a sense of time,place, history and significance. I wonder why nasi goreng isn’t right? Wrong variety of rice? Lack of fish sauce?


    • I wish I knew… but it wasn’t hot a spicy like some nasi goreng’s it was more fragrant… and had a mix of chicken and pork , from memory and water shoots and other local fresh vegetables .
      But I was fourteen at the time, and not really up with the play to accurately remember!..


  6. oh dear, I am in heaven following your favorites…so similar to mine and what I wouldn’t do for the right creme brulee!!!! Thank you for this fascinating tour!


  7. What a life, what a food tour. At first I felt guilty about my being ‘over’ cooking when you discussed rationing…it was good for me to remember that I can bring the preciousness of food to my lacklustre feelings about cooking…..but I quickly forgot to feel guilty as I entered those countires and delights with you. Ok, let me see-Belson for donuts, French bread, Malaya for nasi goreng, Majorca for aoli , Bonn for rum babas, Winchester for creme brulee and Hong Kong for Bombe Alaska…yep, no longer feeling guilty or sorry 🙂 🙂 Love the scrambled eggs recipe and tips…. and the quote…shocking to think about!!!!


    • Gosh. I love these ‘blogging’ connections…. Food is wonderful too the way it connects us, isn’t it.. So glad you enjoyed reading about my gluttony!
      Judging from the other comments too, there’s going to be a lot of eggs being scrambled in the next few days!
      Yes, the quote makes you stop and think, doesn’t it.(:)
      I’ve tried the trick with the colon etc. Wonder if it will show your end.. it just looks like brackets and a colon this end. But rescue is at hand, as my granddaughter is coming to tomorrow to give me some computer coaching, so I’ll check it out
      Heavens, I don’t know how this spacing has happened.( more for the granddaughter)! .


  8. Ps you might have missed my response to a comment of yours on my post…where I told you how to do the smilies, so I’ll repeat it here (sorry if you read it) You push the colon : then straightaway the ) bracket for a smile or ( for a frown…so : then ) and it is converted to a smilie…..there you go!


  9. I had so much to say about your wonderful foodie post and then I read your quotation at the end which has stopped me in my tracks. Very powerful -if only our Governments were thinking that now.

    Back to the food, aioli and rum babas, YES! though not together!

    Thank you for another thought provoking post – and I love creamy scrambled eggs too! 🙂


    • Sally, thank you for your lovely enthusiastic comment, kindred spirits can certainly find a deep bond in scrambled eggs, not to mention rum babas!

      Yes, Eisenhower’s quote. coming from a soldier, was very telling, wasn’t it.


  10. thoughtsfromanamericanwoman

    That would be how I would like to travel the globe by the cuisine! You made me hungry!! 😉 Great post and a very good quote.. Patty


  11. I love reading what you write! And tomorrow morning…scrambled eggs for me! 🙂


  12. What a delightful post! I love traveling this food haven world with you!



    • Sharla, you are a darling – did you know that was the perfect award for a ning-nong like me.
      Thank you so much, I had a good giggle when I found it, and was also so very touched that you should think of me, Love Valerie


  13. Yum! I am hungry now. Valerie you have reminded me how much I miss France.Whilst in France my favourite time of the day is in the morning, I just love going to the Boulangerie/Patisserie ,it is such a feast for the senses,I love the colourful display and the amazing aromas.

    Thank you also for the scrambled egg recipe, I am certainly going to try this tomorrow morning for my breakfast.

    Your Food for thoughts quote is very “to the point”. If only men were to listen….and open their hearts.


    • I love hearing from you Veronique. I bet you miss France. How many of us are living far from our homelands… it seems to be something about this time in the world’s history, doesn’t it, so many people on the move…
      Well, I hope you enjoy the scrambled egg … as long as you use lots of butter, cream if you have it , you can’t go wrong! XXX


  14. Pat

    What an interesting life you have led.
    And the end quote is very telling.
    There was an exhibition of photographs travelling the world, arrived in Norwich sometime last year. Came with a series of quotations, one of which was:
    If the 60 richest people in the world gave away 1% of their income, there would be no poverty anywhere in the world.
    Makes you think.


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