My parents loved caravanning during the years I was a teenager. I absolutely hated it and often stayed with my grandmother over weekends to avoid going camping. More than anything, I loathed my dad’s inevitable hash of fried onions, tomatoes and bully beef on bread. I never understood how corned beef, so deliciously portrayed by American policemen on television, could taste so revolting on this side of the world.
Even more confusing to me was why it is called ‘corned’ beef if it doesn’t contain corn and that mystifying “contains chicken” on the tin’s wrapper. (Wikipedia tells me “Although the exact beginnings of corned beef have been lost to history, it most likely came about when people began preserving meat through salt-curing. Evidence of its legacy is apparent in numerous cultures, including Ancient Europe, and the Middle East. The word corn derives from Old English, which is used to describe any small hard particles or grains.In the case of “corned beef”, the word refers to the coarse granular salts used to cure the beef.)
Still passing that familiar Bull Brand label in the supermarket yesterday, I though I’d give it the benefit of an audition with my adult taste buds and try it as a sandwich filling. My verdict? Still awful, perfectly dreadful.
And today in food history (especially for Jamie Dedes) 1954 Colette, (Sidonie Gabrielle) died. A French novelist, her novels contain many exact and detailed descriptions of food and the pleasures of the table, and quite a few recipes. Nothing corny about Colette.
Lastly for the day, for my friend Amia who asked about my butler’s tray:
It has been with me for many years; it’s been in my bathroom, my office, my bedroom and my lounge. It now stands next to my stove. I have fallen down Table Mountain while carrying it, it held tequila at my wedding, it’s been used in photo shoots and has been spray-painted more times than I remember. One of the Chinese jars holds brown & wild rice, the other holds dried lentils. The green & white utensil holders was a gift this past Mother’s Day. The antique cutlery in the glass comes mostly from my friend Sue. The wire egg basket was R7 from a bargain store.