A mini foodoir (food memoir) to celebrate the festive season
Basically just bread and friends <3
I recently read – and loved – Jessie Ware’s book, Omelette: Food, Love, Chaos and Other Conversations. A modest 160 pages long, it’s a short but sweet collection of stories and anecdotes from Ware’s life, most of which relate to food. While the Goodreads reviews are mixed – it scored an overall average of 3.85 – many agreed how warm and relatable Ware is throughout, in both her outlook on life and taste in food.
The book – which Ware calls a ‘foodoir’ – is essentially a collection of essays in which she reflects on memories and milestones through the food she has eaten and the places she has visited. It spans the small things, the big, significant moments in her life, and everything in between.
‘Some of these experiences were things like eating toast, having some nice white bread round a school friend’s house, going to EAT or NANDOS. It felt like the author was trying to attribute something deep and meaningful to very ordinary foods, which is fine but… it needs to be done well to be able to pull it off..,’ said one Goodreads reviewer.
They expanded: ‘‘The recipes also made no sense to me. A recipe for cream on ice-cream? For sardines on toast? For trifle using custard powder? I have no idea what to do with these or what they are doing in a foodie book. I definitely missed the point on this one!’
Sometimes, Ware’s anecdotes did lack cohesivity, and there was quite a bit of name-dropping, but I don’t think this caused it to lose any of its humour or heart. The review said ‘It felt like the author was trying to attribute something deep and meaningful to very ordinary foods’, but isn’t that the beauty of these sorts of things? Finding the meaning in the mundane? Screw the expensive sushi. I want to hear about the secret ingredient in your family bolognese recipe, which is exactly what Ware delves into.
It’s the sensory experiences of different foods and ingredients – the smells, the settings, the people – which often make a meal stick with us. Food is, in many ways, a vehicle for nostalgia. So, inspired by Ware and just in time for the festive period, I thought I would list some of my favourite food memories.
But first, what would my foodoir be called?
I had great fun putting prompts into ChatGPT for this one. Here are some of my personal favourites:
‘Life, Al Dente – A playful nod to pasta and the idea of life being perfectly tender yet firm.’ — I get the sentiment, ChatGPT, but I think it’s too abstract on this occasion.
‘Noodles of Nostalgia – Evokes memories and sentimentality tied to simple meals.’ — I appreciate the alliteration, but I’m unconvinced.
‘Of Meals and Moments – A poetic take on how meals are tied to life's stages and relationships.’ — A bit vague, but getting there.
‘Small Bites, Big Stories — Highlights how even the smallest meals can carry weighty memories.’ — Cheesy but quite cute.
‘Between Forkfuls – Suggests intimate stories unfolding over meals of pasta.’ — Well, I have certainly had many intimate conversations over pasta, but it’s still missing something.
I’m going to go with this combo: Between Forkfuls: Tales of Food, Friendship, and Fusilli because it sufficiently captures my love for pasta and the fact I’m often the one eating rather than cooking.
Without further ado, here are some of the (mostly mundane) food memories that would make it into my foodoir.
Christmas Eve cooking: Beginning on a festive note, one of my most prominent memories of the Christmas period growing up is my mum and nana prepping all the festive food bits on Christmas Eve. The day would always start with my younger sister Millie and I watching whatever films were on TV that day (this was pre-Netflix) and then we’d pootle over to a local Christmas Eve crib service. By the time we returned home, my nana would be waiting, dolled up in a fur coat and full face of makeup, and armed with a hamper straight from the Butchers and enough potatoes to feed an army. My sister and I would then sneak peeks into the kitchen as my mum and nana made their way through their checklist, slathering the soon-to-be roasties in goose fat, seasoning the Turkey, making the sausage stuffing, and writing out all the oven timings.
There was Christmas music on in the background, but I mainly remember hearing my mum and nana laughing and chattering away – overwhelmed by vegetables and probably harassed by my sister and I getting over-excited and arguing – but content and cosy.
Nana Pam’s fluffy cheesy pasta: My nana looked after my sister and I a lot as we were growing up, so I associate many food memories with her, one being fluffy pasta and cheese. It really was just pasta and cheese, but it was just so good. The pasta – usually Penne, Fusilli or Cavatappi (I only know this one because I googled ‘What is that spiral pasta called?’) – was always cooked to perfection, and the cheese grated super finely, hence the ‘fluffy’ texture. I’m also pretty sure we grated extra cheese on top after melting the first lot in the microwave. Add some salt and pepper, and Bob’s your uncle.
Pitta pizzas with Millie: Another simple but effective dish from my childhood was the humble 'pitta pizza’. When Millie and I got home from school, we would be ravenous (looking back, I'm not sure how I coped with the lack of snacks during school hours) and could put back several helpings of this scrumptious savoury snack. Lightly toast the (cheapest, whitest you can find) pitta bread before spreading it generously with tomato purée, adding whatever toppings the fridge can offer, and coating it with an avalanche of mature cheddar. Ding it under the grill, and you’re good to go. But wait for it to cool. I never did and paid the price in ulcers.
Kara’s scrambled eggs: Kara, if you’re reading this, I think your scrambled eggs are the best home-cooked eggs I’ve had. You might make a mess in the kitchen, but I’d like to take this opportunity to formally thank you for all the meals over the years. Those hungover scrambled eggs in Lisbon hit differently. I think I recall your advice involving no milk, lots of butter, and stirring on low heat for ages.
Holiday pasta with pals: My girlfriends and I pride ourselves on our holiday food budgeting and generally dine out about 40% of the time, catering for ourselves the rest of the time. Much of this involves pasta. Our girls’ holiday home-cooked special involves cooking approximately 50 Kg of pasta, adding all the veg, whatever mid-budget tomato sauce we can find in the local supermarket, and lots of cheese. Ah, I can picture it right now. Sitting on the balcony, basking in the evening sun, half the group air-drying freshly washed hair, eating pasta, and drinking Hugo Spritzes, and the other half doing their makeup for the night ahead. Stunning.
The Waffle House: We have this wonderful independent restaurant in Norwich called the Waffle House, and I feel sad for anyone who’s never been able to try it. Even Hugh Jackman – whose mum lives in Norfolk – has had the pleasure. You can get sweet waffles, savoury waffles, breakfast waffles, salads – everything is incredible. My favourites over the years include the veggie breakfast, cheese and beans, hummus and avocado, and blueberry, pecan and maple with vanilla yoghurt. But if you try one thing, let it be the insane chocolate mousse. You’ll never go back. I remember one waitress telling me not having the chocolate mousse for nine months while she was pregnant (it contains raw egg) had taken a lot of self-restraint.
Papa Si’s cheesy chips: Anybody who attended Loughborough University will have heard of the Great Papa Si. A true BNOC (Big Name on Campus), Papa Si (real name: Simon Enver) is the proud owner of Loughborough University’s on-campus fast food takeaway business. That man must’ve seen it all in his takeaway, but his cheesy chips truly were the best in the business. When my home friends came to visit from various universities across the country, they wholeheartedly agreed, requesting we go after any night out. If we were disciplined enough, we would wait until we returned to halls to microwave them before munching. So good.
Posing with Papa Si's van (L) and The Waffle House's cheese and beans waffle (R) Afternoon Tea: While I may not have given sophisticated vibes thus far, I love Afternoon Tea. Close to home, I adore The Assembly House’s Afternoon Tea, with its beautiful food, gorgeous setting, and memories of my glamorous nana. Last year, for my sister’s 21st birthday, we went to The Langham – the first hotel to serve afternoon tea upon opening in 1865 – for Afternoon Tea in Palm Court. It was probably my bougiest food experience to date. The sandwiches were the best I’ve ever had (I still think about the cheese and chutney often), and while I wasn’t entirely sure what every sweet treat was (bar the miniature Mille-Feuille), they were all incredible.
‘Rounds’ of toast with Emma: Although it may be a world away from the glitz and glamour of The Langham’s afternoon tea, I had to include toast here. Specifically, toast eaten with one of my best pals, Emma. For some reason, in our house, we always referred to a single piece of toast as a ‘round’ of toast. As mentioned, we were always ravenous after school, so carbs were a must. On Thursdays, Emma and I had dance class later in the evening, and she always came over to mine beforehand. To fuel us, my mum had rounds of toast on tap – with a whole cupboard of spreads to choose from. Part of the appeal for Emma was that we had white bread (and lots of it), and, between us, we’d get through Hovis white loaves like there was no tomorrow. Although our rounds have now moved from toast to tequila, Emma remains one of my best mates, and we always get nostalgic about toast.
Hunk: Now, you might be thinking ?? But, continuing with the theme of bread and friends, ‘hunk’ is just our code for bread. At some point, my friends and I started calling bread – in any form – hunk. I think it was because, on one holiday, we found a supermarket baguette labelled as 'Hunk' and it stuck. As a friendship group, we just love bread/hunk – especially after a night out. We are simply the Carbohydrate Queens. Once, when we were about 13/14, we went to Pizza Express and ate our dough balls so quickly that the waiter called us hungry hippos. I mean, upon reflection, not really okay, but it gave us our group chat name for years afterwards.
Here’s to hunk, Hugo Spritzes, and a very Happy Christmas and New Year!
See you soon,
H x
P.S. I know food can be really difficult for some people during the festive period, so wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, do look after yourself and take time out when you need to. ❤️