Barré Brandon - In my mothers kitchen: three generations of simple, delicious family food

In My
Mothers Kitchen

Three Generations of Simple, Delicious Family Food

TRISH MAGWOOD

PHOTOGRAPHY BY BRANDON BARR

To Mom and Bo,
for teaching me the importance
of the gathering, to love good food,
to share it and to pass it on.

F or so many of us, our mothers kitchen is a place where memories and meals are shared. In her kitchen, my mother fed four hungry mouths with delicious, simple food. We always sat at the table to eat and we always had dessert (if we ate our dinner). Her kitchen was also where we carved pumpkins, pulled out first teeth, learned to tie shoes, cried over fights with friends and stuck together as a large and boisterous family over yummy food.

In both my grandmother Dodies and grandmother Bos kitchens, there was the same energy. Those kitchens were where Sunday and special-occasion dinners happenedkitchens filled with the aroma of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Today Bos kitchen is still her focal point. Its where she lovingly prepares tomato butter and crabapple jelly every fall. And its where our third child, Charlotte, visits mid-week mornings for freshly squeezed OJ and sticky buns with her great-aunt Nancy and great-grandmother Bo.

The family kitchen is the hub of our own homekids lunches and fancy tea parties, Bryces weekend eggs and as many meals together as possible. We are creating our own traditions and happy memories in the kitchen. These are fleeting moments, so we are trying to grab hold of them over simple meals. Our meals are not always a success. Findlay, Olivia and Charlotte are quick to let me know this is not my favourite. With much trial and error, I have gathered a books worth of family meals that are for the most part wild successes, even with Fin, our picky seven-year-old, and my grown-up brother Robbie, who is just as picky. My new mantra: keep it simple and fresh, and focus on the gathering, even if the broccoli is left on the plate.

We all love gathering in other kitchens too. It is in these other kitchensthe kitchens of my grandmother Bo, my mom of course, my sisters-in-law Nancy, Amy and Amanda and my friends like Ghislaine, Liz and Toriwhere family meal inspiration and shopping secrets come from, where recipes and ideas are shared and where the kids and adults love to gather. Its a broader definition of the family kitchen.

These are my people and places of inspiration and ideas for this collection of four generations worth of simple, delicious meals that work. Theres not a lot of fuss because theres not a lot of time. These meals bring the biggest smiles, allowing us to have a quick chat and hold on to the connections, because it all goes so fast.

Dish entertains, my first book, shared my favourite recipes for everyday simple and special-occasion gatherings, based on my work life at dish cooking studio and my TV show, party dish. In My Mothers Kitchen is life at home. Its a personal collection of family recipes and stories that I hope will bring ease, allowing you to celebrate connections in your kitchen.

As I am fast approaching forty, a bunch of things are happening. I spend much time looking to friends, family, acquaintances and even strangers for ideas, sources and inspiration, sometimes for what to wear for a glam fundraiser, sometimes where to get inexpensive art for empty walls in an otherwise full home, but mostly for what on earth to buy and cook for kids lunches and family dinners.

As our kids grow, as our parents age and as we ourselves gain wrinkles, we crave more and deeper connections. We look back and learn from family traditions so that we can create our own traditions and definitions of family. Our days are still organized around meals, but now, as we try to excel in our jobs and still be there for our kids, mealtime is more frantic and less enjoyable. But the need to connect and share with family and friends, even though life is busy, has not changed.

In this book, I have tried to bring tradition and old family recipes into the present day to help all of us, in the context of our busy lives, figure out how to enjoy a good meal. If we keep it simple (thirty minutes or less for mid-week), try to sit together when we can (or at least sit down with the kids while they eat), then we will all enjoy the meal, eat better and be happier for it. I have pulled together a collection of recipes that had to meet these criteria:

no tears when it came to the table: all five of us, adults and kids, had to like it (or at least try it),

it couldnt take me more than thirty minutes (except for the weekend slow roasts and some of the special-occasion dinners like turkey),

it couldnt cost a fortune,

it was as local, fresh and healthy as possible (the healthy part has a few exceptions, of course!), and

it was one of the recipes I have loved or cooked for a long time, from my own old recipe book or from a recipe box from a friend or family member who was a really good cooka recipe or idea from our collective mothers kitchens.

My starting point for this book was my mother. She is a great cook. Though shes rigid about measuring and a real chicken about trying new things, especially new cultural inspirations, her recipes, ultimately collected from her own family and friends, are packed with flavour and are no-fail successes.

Then there was my fathers garden. My parents are a bit like the Cleaversmy moms domain is the kitchen, whereas my dads domain is the outdoors. He is most happy in a ratty old coat, covered in mud from his cross-country ATV adventure, emerging from the bush smelling of fire and sap after his labours over a spring batch of old-school maple syrup. My dad doesnt do anything in a small way. Everything is with big expression. The vineyard has grown as far as the eye can see. (Hes only four years in, so we have yet to try the home brew.) He and farmer Kate, the most patient and knowledgeable woman of the earth I know, spend their days grafting the apple trees and nurturing tomatoes and assortments of lettuces I have never heard of. It doesnt get any more local or organic. Findlay, our eldest, and the pickiest eater, is only ever caught eating green vegetables with my dad, straight from the garden with dirty hands, or with my mother, at a standoff at the table. So