To The Women Who've Gone Before

The tin room behind Dad and I is all that's left of the kichen on Misery where Nanny cooked for the family.

There will only be ten people around my Christmas table this year and I’ll still feel like I’m feeding an army. It makes me think of my grandmother who fed more people than that every day of the week without the benefit of electricity or running water. She managed to cook for her family using a couple of cast iron saucepans, an old combustion stove, and an open fireplace. With no mod-cons like non-stick cookware, fan-forced ovens, or even a kitchen sink, she turned out a Christmas dinner that my dad, who is 87, still remembers to this day. So while I’m whipping cream with an electric mixer and making breadcrumbs in my food processor, I’ll spare a thought for my grandmother and the other formidable women of Australia’s past, and what they could achieve using nothing more than a tablespoon and a sharp knife. And as I sit in air-conditioned comfort eating my Christmas dinner while the trifle is chilling in the fridge, I’ll raise a glass in admiration to the women who’ve gone before.