Sweet memories from my childish youth

One of my good friends, Dee Head (that's actually her name, it's not a non de plume) commented on Facebook after reading my latest blog entry that I must have had a hard childhood.  It threw me sideways a bit as I've always felt that my childhood was quite special, idyllic even.  My brother and I grew up as the only children in the family unit, and my parents are still together.  There were issues, I won't go into too much detail right now - my mother's preferred method of disciplining us would make Dr Spock frown (and I don't mean Star Trek by the way, in case you were thinking that, try reading this) but ultimately it was a different time.  Over the past week I've been following another bout of letters published about the rights and wrongs of slapping children – it seems this one never grows old (and quite rightly so, parents are still using fear based methods of raising children - whatever the arguments for, I always find the most level-headed responses to be the following:  "We do not use physical violence in our home because we teach our children that no problem requires the use of physical force in order to be resolved.") 

 I have absolutely no problem for folks who grab their children and shout at them (for example, in order to stop them from sticking a fork into an electronic socket) but if you need to slap your child, even on the "fingers", then you have ishoos….and you're just transferring these to your children.  What parents really need to ask is what kind of message they are actually trying to get across to their kids.  Are they bringing them up to be afraid of the powerful angry person (who they can later just rebel and rage against) or are they installing skills in them as to how to become a rational and reasonable adult?  I'm really not against discipline but if your only option is to resort to physical violence, you probably need help with your child, and it is NOT a sign of weakness to seek that help.

There is far too much "acceptable" physical violence in this world.  Folks who think it is okay to punch somebody because they are mouthing off or just being plain annoying – this seems to me just a little disturbing.  I once knew a young boy who was hit in the head by a tennis ball in the school playground - he was suffering from a tumour and died instantly.  Whatever we consider is "acceptable" always has its terrible case scenario exceptions.  People who don't know their own strength sometimes kill somebody just by giving them a punch to the nose.  As somebody who was regularly bullied and punched and kicked many a time when I was younger, (by authority figures, family members and sometimes by complete strangers) I think I have some authority on voicing just how soul destroying this makes the person who is on the receiving end of the violence.

The last time this happened was at Notting Hill Carnival in the early naughties.  I raised my can of cider in the air and did a loud "wooo-hoooo!" as we watched the parade and a man who was walking along the crowd's edge smacked me in the mouth.  I remember being totally confused and him saying curtly before he stomped on by: "You KNOW what THAT was for!" Well, I'm still wondering to tell you the truth, although it probably had something to do with a girlfriend running past or maybe he was just an angry man and I reminded him of somebody he hated or who had done him wrong?  That was also the year we witnessed a group of youths at the carnival brandishing knives to one another and we were amongst the crowds who scattered.  Folks always want to shout about how this is all due to there not being enough discipline in the children's homes – it may be true for some of them but personally I think it is a knock on effect of the 50s hidden violence syndrome which has started to seep out of the cracks of every home that this psychotic method was applied in.

Some of us are repulsed by the violence that was inflicted in our supposedly loving homes, hidden behind the mesh curtains that are meant to let in the light but not the prying eyes of our nosy neighbours – we vow never to inflict such hurtfulness upon our own children.  Whether we succeed or not is down to ability to process the pain and if we receive the right kind of help.  Not everyone is lucky enough to take this road – for some, the pain is too much, the fears too great to even look at in the light of day.  For these poor souls, the pain becomes twisted and churns deep inside, only to explode when the pressure becomes too much.  Where and when this occurs, even the best psychics will be unable to predict.

Here I find myself speaking very publicly about painful things from my past – where do I get off, eh?  I really wanted to focus on something positive about my life in this post, mainly as a reaction to Dee's comment (and the silent majority too) although clearly I have much to work through as now I'm in the third paragraph and I'm having to take a breath and stop (or "Schtop!", as my German relatives would say) and just wait for the emotions to abate a little.  So back to my childhood days do let us travail – this time down happy memory – or as I like to call it, the Cookie Road.

It is such an American term, isn't it: "Cookie" but we're all pretty much aware of it in Australia because we all grew up with American pronunciation of the Alphabet (X Y Zeeeee) - I have a wonderful album that I proudly claim to be the very first album that I owned. I received it as a Christmas present probably around the time it was released in 1975 (for any readers who were born after 1990, an "album" is the musical equivalent of a CD – anyone born after 2000, I'm sorry, you'll have to pick up a history book in order to work out just what this antiquated terminology means). 

 The album I'm referring to is the Sesame Street Monsters and my favourite song still has to be the burlesque ballad belted by Marilyn Sokol ("I want a Monster to be my Friend") but there is also a song sung by Harry, Grover and Cookie Monster called "We'll do it together".  It's a song about a cookie tree, and how the three monsters work together in order to reach the cookies that hang just out of their reach.  It inevitably ends with cookie monster getting way too excited and everyone crashing to the ground (I believe Cookie stands on Harry and Grover balances on top of Cookie) and I still to this day find it hilarious how the cookies never actually go down his gullet but instead get mashed up into little pieces and sent flying in all directions.  I introduced my daughter to this album, or perhaps, as I was an absent father (usually found in another country on the other side of the world) it was my mother who played this record for her over and over again.  Whichever, she is the only other person I know who has memorised all the lyrics to these very special songs.

I loved Sesame Street as a kid and possibly more as I grew older.  My brother and I would religiously watch this show every morning before school (up until the time we had to leave, of course) but because the show was repeated in the afternoon, if I rushed home from school, I could catch the second half of to the program that I had missed in the morning due to the school commute.  I still find myself singing the pinball number song: "one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve!" in the shower. When I saw a parody of this on Family Guy (featuring baby Stewie in a perspex ball as the pinball) I nearly wet myself with excitement… probably much more than the segment actually deserved.  I had absolutely no idea at the time that this would be my first ever introduction to the Pointer Sisters! 

 However I was watching this show well before I went to school – and, in fact, I have incredibly fond memories of those very early days.  My brother would be sent off to at that time, I didn't really know where and I would have my goddess mother all to myself.  My mother (when not stressfully busy or in need of a nap) was a divine source of inspiration for any child who had the lucky joy of meeting her.  I've watched her with my own daughter and her ability to magically drop down to a child's level playing field is something truly wondrous to behold.  She was always happy to be looking after a small child whenever the parents needed a break and she certainly inspired me with regards to anything and almost everything imaginative.  She could draw like an artist, she could sew like a seamstress and her ability to organise inspired me to develop the best OCD qualities of all (useful and practical applications of obsession, as opposed to just being obsessive [although believe me, there are a few 'secret' things that remain purely just crazy obsessions]).

One of the best things to do with children is get them to be involved in the food preparation process.  My mother wasn't particularly good at this, I have to admit she was a bit of a control freak (which is pretty much where I got it from... and my daughter, Jarra, got it from).  When my brother and I first started Home Economics, we realised that we had little or no skills when it came to food prep!  We also had very little knowledge about things such as nutrition but that was more to do with the seventies themselves (and don't get me started on what was taught in the fifties and sixties when my mother was growing up.... I've mentioned before my parent's were war babies after all).  So nobody was really surprised by our lack of knowledge, especially not the Home Economics teachers - this was normal, sexist, behaviour but in truth my mother, like many women at that time, was in charge of the kitchen and they had no intention of relinquishing any of the power that they held had over that space.  I'll no doubt go into more detail in later blogs of the separate power spaces that my parents reigned supreme in but I'm still surprised to this day that my mother did not actually teach me or my brother how to actually cook.  We learnt how to boil an egg, for example, because my mother was sent an egg cooker by her best friend from Germany. 

I also learnt how to decorate a pizza possibly because my mother found the process tedious but also as it was a way to keep children occupied.  My mother could never be described as "lazy".  In fact, she would oh so rarely spend any time at all in front of the  television.  Much later in life she learnt how to relax more – and perhaps it was all to do with her quitting cigarette smoking, something she did shortly before I started school but there was always a lot of nervous energy around my mother and she was always doing something and frequently it was quite productive.  So she had tasks and whenever she needed to do something and she had bored children that also wanted to do something, she would find a task that would keep them occupied.  One of these tasks was biscuit making.

I still to this day love making biscuits and I think the reason why I love making biscuits is this early childhood task.  The German community that I grew up in still has regular Christmas biscuit making sessions – these are held at various members homes (there is a kind of rotation that occurs) and all the women (and one man) get together and bake a mass amount of biscuits together, all from scratch.  These are then divied out to all the families for the Christmas period.  I adore my mother's gingerbread (more of a soft, spongy cake version that is often sold at German Christmas markets in the shape of decorated hearts than the traditional hard gingerbread men variety) and her gingerbread (lebkuchen) house at Nikolaus is a tradition that my mother just cannot stop, even though I secretly sometimes think she wishes she could (it is a tremendous amount of work to make).

I've heard that this Christmas tradition has now split into two groups – the oldies and the ancients.  The ancients, my mother's generation, used to be the oldies of course, and the new oldies, who used to the be the youngies (until my cousin's children grew into adulthood, and my own daughter starting producing offspring) have a desperate need to create their own traditional spaces.  Sadly, of course, this usually ends up with fewer and fewer of us having any traditions at all.  I will attempt this year to create an English version of the Winter Solstice baking tradition, of course, I better start practising my gluten free baking skills – it is quite difficult to make anything with pastry, bread or biscuit when you cannot include wheat flour as an ingredient.

My mother used to make the basic sugar butter biscuit dough, but she would often make two types – one would have an added ingredient of cocoa powder to give it a dark chocolately colour.  I would get to roll out the dough and then use the various cookie cutters we owned.  These are vital ingredients to own for any budding cookie maker.  You really cannot make do without equipment.  I have been known to improvise and use a jar to both roll and cut out scones when challenged by a threadbare kitchen but cookies are made of much more delicate materials and a proper investment and outlay is required.

Seriously, you can never have enough cookie cutters....

I now own a variety of cookie cutters – when I was younger we used the same ones for play-doh (again, something my mother was extremely good at knocking up a batch of – I remember being amazed that she could just DO this!  Other children had to beg and whine and if they were lucky they would get those teeny tiny pots full of the stuff – my mother knew how to mix primary colours to create purple!).  I don't think you can ever own enough cookie cutters – I have a particular set that I like to use for Hallowe'en and there I recently picked up a Easter flavoured pack from the pound shop (for a pound!) – I am yet to find a good Solstice set, for either summer OR winter but half the fun is in looking.  I prefer metal cutters, but plastic ones are just as practical and whereas with the metal variety you have to be careful not to cut yourself whilst cleaning, you equally have to have a little more care when washing the plastic ones (to stop them from breaking).  Other vital equipment is a rolling pin and baking trays, 4 to 6 if you're into making larger batches (nothing is more annoying that having to wait for a tray to cool in order to get your next batch in the oven – it certainly extends the baking period from an hour to many, many more.

I'm fairly certain that my mother received the basic sugar cookie recipe from her own mother.  I, of course, have never committed a cookie recipe to memory, especially since I received as a Christmas present from our Jewish-English Mom the Readers Digest Cookies – 1001 Mouthwatering Recipes from around the World (US Readers, try here).  This wonderful tome contains every recipe imaginable (well, nearly... ).  It is truly a delight, although I have been known to question the measurements contained quite severely.  Exactly what is a "stick" of butter anyway?  Do Americans really buy their butter in sticks?  Where did this practice come from?  How do they stack them in the supermarket?  And the equivalent metric measurement of ½ cup seems excessive and awfully lardy for my liking, never quite creating that perfect elasticky dough that I remember my mother making but rather a sticky mess that I always have to add a little more flour to in order to achieve a rollable dough. 

To my delight, however, I have discovered that since I began using Gluten Free flour this recipe book seems to be ideal for the extra absorptive qualities of such flour mixes!  Normally I have to add approximately 100 ml more fluid for every 250ml listed.. not so with these recipes (although I did put that to the test the other day as I make a few batches of gluten-filled cookies to raise money for charity at my work - and sure enough, I had to add tons more flour to the mix (gluten free flour, as I ran out of the gluten filled variety).

Anyway, here's how I make 'em.  Sift 1 ¾ self-raising flour into a large bowl (or add 2 tsps baking powder to a plain flour mix) – add ¼ teaspoon ground allspice and ¹/₈ teaspoon salt.  In a smaller bowl, cream ½ cup butter and 1 cup caster sugar.  Beat into the creamy mix 2 large eggs and 1 teaspoon vanilla essence/extract.  Then pour this mixture into the flour mix.  Stir together all ingredients until this makes a soft dough – you really don't want a 'sloppy' texture to your dough, so add a bit more flour if your eggs are super size or your fat is particularly fluidic.  Into the fridge this goes (into a clean bowl covered in cling film) for at least half an hour.  While your dough is chilling (this is particularly important for the dough – the flour really needs to absorb all the fluid and expand a little) grease 4 baking trays (you can get by with probably 2 baking trays, but you won't be able to roll and bake all your cookies in under an hour, having to wait for your trays to cool down first before making your next batch) and pre-heat your oven to gas mark 4 or approx 350º F (180 º C).

Once your dough is ready, cut it in half, then half again and always return the parts you are not using back to the fridge.  Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface (if the dough sticks to the rolling pin, then flour it lightly before proceeding) and you want to get your dough as thinly as you can – the recipe calls for 1/8 inch (er…?), I try for about 5mm maximum.  You also need to have your dough rolled out as consistently as you can – although a portion of it being slightly fatter than the rest will add to the charm of your cookies having that home baked feel – after all, you don't want to completely emulate the store bought variety… you can go to the store to buy those and save yourself a great deal of time and effort!  I am a perfectionist first and foremost though, so I have been known to abandon my initial efforts, scrunch everything together and return the mixture to the fridge while I work on the next lot. 

 You need to be patient when making cookies – don't rush the process, the dough is brittle (especially if you are making a gluten-free variety) and your efforts will be completely wasted if you carefully cut out your shapes and then transfer them hastily to the tray so that they bulge and squish into misshapen entities!  Children make oddly shaped cookies because they haven't learnt the motor control skills that are required to .  You can forgive them for being unable to create a tray of uniform shapes (you'll find that most kids will want to use every cookie cutter in your collection anyway…..) but there is nothing quite like a tray of uniformly shaped and baked cookies ready for icing or filling.

I love to create creamy or jammy filled cookies and so I bake alternate batches - one with a hole (this will be the "top" cookie) and one without.  One of my favourite store bought cookies was the jammy dodger – there is an exorbitantly priced gluten-free variety available in most English supermarkets but like most "free from" confectionery, they use palm oil instead of butter (I'm not dairy intolerant…. well, actually I may well be but I refusing to consider it right now, I mean, seriously, if I give up the dairy on top of the booze, fags, wheat, rye and barley, red meat – precisely what will be left for me to consume??).

How excited was I too learn that my favourite Hazelnut spread is gluten free?  I add a heaped teaspoon of this (or your favourite jam) between two cookies and squish them together.  The recipe calls for "confectioners sugar" to be sprinkled onto your finished cookies but I have never bothered with this (presumably they mean "icing sugar"?) as I find them sweet enough, especially with a filling.  Then I stack 'em up and pack 'em up.  David got his served with coffee and my work colleagues got their own batches on Valentine's Day when my work did a promotion for Organ Donation Day, hence the heart shaped variety.  We raised over £50 for Kidney Research, and i discovered that this world is happy to take my organs when I'm dead but not my blood while I'm alive... but I don't want to digress into something less positive now, so I'll save that for another blog and leave you all with a photo of the fabulous display featuring my cookies!  They were all eaten by the end of the day I'm happy to say, whereas some of the store bought cakes were still sitting there the following morning when I arrived to dismantle it all.