PARTING WITH MY COINAGE
My grandparents lived a leafy street away from the circus tent topped shopping centre of Floreat Park. When I visited their home on Thursdays I was allowed to go to the shops unattended. I would peruse the stores wide eyed and wanting. For the first 8 years my focus and saved copper 1 and 2 cent pieces would be handed over the counter at the heady chocolate scented Candy Cabin. As my headed into my teens, my tastes matured, and I picked up a weekend job my attention was drawn to the homewares store, “Affaire “( it was the ‘wannabe chic’ ’80s darlings). Here, the sophisticated owner with coiffed hair would wave her Cruella de Vil arms around as if to show with one fell swoop all the shiny trinkets she had on offer. I would spend hours in her store, knowing that my mother loved the expensive Lladro figurines and I would wistfully turn over the delicate white Wedgwood china……wishing, like kids do that I could impress my mum with an exquisite purchase as a small token of my giant love for her.
Thursday, after Thursday the ritual would start over. A nose pressed against the window, and then slowly being drawn in by the golden throw of the shop lights and the displays of considered homewares. What would I like to give most to my Mum? What would make my thirteen year old heart swell with pride? I found it in a German clay baker. As I ran my hands along the decorated clay top I could feel the ancient folk images bump against my fingers. I had nailed it…..something warm, attractive, different yet practical. I had found the Romertopf. I tore open the yellow pay envelope and prised from it two burnt orange paper notes ($20 notes for the plastic noted generation)…..and this, ladies and gents was my first foray into the love of kitchenware. Happy Mother’s Day Mumma Marales and Carol!
WHEN IN ROME DO AS THE GERMANS DO
Nicely gift boxed with recipes and ideas. Perfect for a gift or great way to cook this winter.