Browse Nourish Stories by Keyword

A Quick Shop in the Co-Op

Alexander Hamilton

We were abandoned by our mother in our early teens; not that she left home, but following on from the death of my father, she went into mourning for the rest of her life. So we lived semi-detached lives, next door to where Fate and Bad Luck sat playing cards. If we were hungry she would indicate the general direction of the kitchen or any other area in which we might have felt a need.

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Antie Mary’s Auld Kitchen

Emma Guinness

Pot wis piled oan pot efter pot
In Antie Mary’s auld kitchen.
The doors wur hangin’
By their hinges
Like Antie Mary hursel.
Ah wis just a wean when she tellt
Me hoo tae make sticky
Meringues wi’ strawbs an’ cream.

Salt oan cheesy twists left a bitter
Taste in ma mooth
Like the big reid button
Ootside the kitchen.
The button Antie Mary didnay press
When she fell
Doon wan last time.
She lay oan that flair fur days.

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C. F. Ross

My cold just would not shift and now my husband had a sore throat. We were both feeling awful, despite using various sachets, chest rubs, tablets, linctus and soothing sweets. In desperation, I had no option but to summon up my inner witch and concoct a cold relief programme and potion.

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Keywords (not used): 
health remedies, soup, home cooking, recipe, illness

Baked Gold

Hendrika Wilhelmina Psaila

The oven, the smell of firewood.
Window open looking through.
Almonds crushed, slightly roasted, grounded and mixed with egg white.
The yolk as a fallen sun left aside.
Pastry of flour, butter, sugar and a hind of lemon rind.
Kneading in love, the texture soft between fingers.
Shapes as individuals lying on the baking tray.
Slightly brushed with yolk for the finishing touch.
Heat as the door opens gone as the chemistry unfolds behind a closed door.
Time, a moment of wait a moment of thought.

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Keywords (not used): 
Poem, baking, home cooking

Breakfast at Tiffany's

Breakfast at Tiffany’s? More like breakfast at my Gran’s. Hot, toasted pan loaf smothered with soft, yellow butter and her home-made strawberry jam. Mugs of milky hot chocolate, with floating skin, perfect for slurping.

Then there were her lunches. Findus crispy pancakes oozing with mince and baked beans on the side. And her home-made crumpets spread with that jam, rolled up like wee rugs and kept warm in the oven.

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Changing Tables

Gourock, circa 1985

I’m standing in the small kitchen, at my mother’s side, in front of an aging electric cooker. It’s a Saturday, and I’m learning how to make scones, because we’ll have them on the table later for high tea. Saturday is always high tea in our house. In principle perhaps (although there’s always baking), it’s the day off from cooking for my mum – we’ll just have a shell pie, or boiled eggs, or Findus’ crispy pancakes.

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Cinnamon Toast

Diane Anderson

Mam’s nae muckle o a cook. Faan she mairrit she couldna hardly bile an egg. Puir wifie mairrit intae a faimly o dochter-in-laws faa aw bakit an wid aw dae afore they bocht a funcy piece. Thir tins wis aye ful. Sincesyne she his nivver taen pleasure fae daein oanythin in the kitchen.

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Keywords (not used): 
Scots, make your own, home cooking

Cooking on the Rayburn

The heat, the smell
cooking slowly, cooking well.

aroma filters to other rooms,
daughter is waiting with a spoon. 

adding flavour herbs and spices,
nodding with approval.

round the large dining table
we sit with our island ale, 

all waiting to be served
this tasty wholesome meal.

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Keywords (not used): 
Poem, home cooking, family


J E Reeve

“Brrr! It’s even colder in here than normal!” Three strides and I was in front of the monstrous fridge. “I’ve never discovered why Gran bothers with a fridge!” I pulled at the door handle. The door swung open, revealing a selection of UFOs – Unidentified Foodie Objects. “She never throws it, just recycles it!”

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Food Fantastic Food

Jess McGeachie

Food fantastic food! Takes me back to my childhood, growing up on Peathill farm Chryston, where my mum and dad worked very hard, feeding the animals and their own three children – Christine, Robert and myself.

Let me begin with our daily farm menu.

Breakfast was porridge, eggs and bacon, and with no heating in the farmhouse, it was a hearty meal to start the day. Off to school with bellies full, while mum and dad would set about feeding and milking the cattle, well, they have to be well fed too.

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