I was giving my filing system a bit of an early spring clean (goodness knows it needs it!), and I came across this little piece, first published in Venue ages ago. Enjoy!
Rose Elliot’s vegetarian cookery book ‘Not Just a Load of Old Lentils’ cost my mum £1.50 in 1972. ‘Fun, practical, easy, delightful!’ reads the strapline on the faded orange cover, the words running around an etched sketch of pulses, cheese, vegetables and wine. There’s a photo of Rose herself on page two; demure, but smiling encouragingly, with a subtle twinkle of fun in her eyes. This is the only photograph in the book - it’s left to the reader/cook to decide how Rose’s recipes should be styled.
‘NJaLoOL’ lived by the cooker in all the kitchens I grew up in, from the semi-commune in Wales to the one where the ceiling almost collapsed just after my family did. But in between the covers of this lovingly battered relic, my family remains totally intact. On page 179, buttery stains from my own childish fingerprints make a flapjack recipe almost indecipherable, while a hundred dinner party preparations have left their mark on the stuffed pancakes recipe on page 94. Potato cakes: served hot, with crumbly Cheshire cheese and a glass of Ribena, they were manna from heaven. Dhal, p108: my goodness, weren’t the Blease family ahead of their time? Perhaps the butterbean curry on the previous page windpowered us along. But why the purple stain on the Spaghetti with Aubergines page? I don’t remember ever eating this dish. Maybe mum tried, but failed - oh Rose, you let her down! Not so me.
Rose nursed me through my very first soufflé. She taught me how to make a croustade, stuff a marrow, handle pastry. This weekend, I’ll be making her vegetarian stroganoff; last week, I made her banana bread. And as I go, I’m adding my own indelible stains to a cookery book that brings back more memories than Proust’s madeleine ever could; 35 years worth so far, and many flapjacks still to go.
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