Me and My Big Mouth is a personal account of how Australian food has changed in the baby-boomers’ lifetime. It’s the story of a generation that can remember life before pizza – a generation that has seen the demise of the local grocer and, decades later, the resurrection of the small local deli.
If you’ve followed an old link to this site you may be a little surprised (or even disappointed) with what you’ve found here. This site does have some posts about food history, but my food timeline now has its own address. There’s a link in this post.
Serving up a full English-style Christmas feast on a broiling hot December day doesn’t really make sense. But, for me, as for many Australians, the tradition persists. (An extract from my memoir “Me and My Big Mouth”)
When it comes to outback food, things are often not what they seem. Thanks to rich local slang, many dishes have picked up names that are downright misleading.. This article from the 1940s explains some of Australia’s strangest dishes, as featured in a (probably apocryphal) banquet menu designed by a former shearers’ cook.
In the months leading up to our Sicily visit, Mount Etna had been erupting. But things had quietened down by the time we arrived in nearby Taormina.
The freshwater spring has a legend attached. The cathedral incorporates columns from an ancient Greek temple. The island of Ortigia is the “old town” of Siracusa, with mediaeval palaces, a 12th century fortress, picturesque narrow streets and sapphire waters all around.
Despite social media warnings, we didn’t find streets full of rubbish. And no-one picked our pockets. The only downside of our stay in Palermo was the number of steps we had to climb to our apartment.
On most of our previous trips to Italy, Rome was a one-night stop-over. This time, we wanted time to explore. We lacked the energy and motivation to visit many of the main attractions but consoled ourselves with pasta, granita and many an Aperol Spritz.
In 1944, The Age published a recipe for a butterless, eggless fruit cake that would fit the “soldier’s cake tin”. It used lard instead of butter and the results were…um…interesting.
Nanny’s Christmas pudding just wouldn’t be the same without Nanny’s brandy cream. Plain whipped cream was provided for the children.
It’s not uncommon to read diatribes from (mostly older) Australians fulminating against American fast food, American music, American computer games and, especially, certain American politicians. But when did all this Americanisation start?
South Australian eating habits have always been a bit unusual. Which brings me to doorstop bread. I recently had a phone call from the ABC in South Australia, asking whether I could contribute to a segment that explores long-lost favourites.
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