New Zealand Listener – August 10, 2019

LISTENER AUGUST 10 2019

GET

TY^
IMA

GES

80 YEARS

housewives in all matters to

do with housework, hygiene,

health and food was immense,

and in 1939, the Listener ran an

Aunt Daisy food-query column.

Basham continued broad-

casting until a few days before

her death, in 1963, and her

influence on what Kiwis ate

has probably been greater

than any other cook in our

history. Her chirpy introduc-

tion, “Good morning, good

morning, good morning eve-

rybody!” still rings in my ears,

as Mother tuned in each day

when I was a child. Aunt Daisy

wrote many simple but useful

cookbooks, influenced by the

food she discovered on the

several US tours she did from

the mid-30s, her endless reper-

toire of baking recipes and her

knowledge of local specialities

such as kūmara, toheroa, lamb

and crayfish.

I

n the 1940s and 50s, Mother

shopped for food at small

family-run businesses, as

did all the other housewives.

An uncle had a

vegetable shop

in Symonds St,

Auckland, and

nearby was a

fishmonger.

She recalls that

when money

was scarce,

In those days, chicken was

a treat eaten for birthdays and

celebrations. Milk in glass

bottles was delivered daily

to homes, along with a fresh

bread order – we’d fight over

the “kissy crust”– wrapped

in waxed paper and pre-cut

into “thick and thin” slices,

which made it convenient for

sandwiches and toast. Mother

made us wonderful school

lunches – I adored tomato

soup in a Thermos and meat-

loaf sandwiches.

A subscription to the

US magazine Ladies’ Home

Journal gave Mother and her

friends ideas for avant-garde

dinner-party dishes, although

she recalls many of the

ingredients, such as chickpeas,

were not readily available. The

heart of the meal would be

a roast, followed by a dessert

such as pavlova or spanish

cream, and for drinks there

would be a crate of large

brown bottles of beer for the

men and sherry or blackberry

nip for the women. Local

wines, unless you visited

the Dalmatian winegrowers

in West Auckland, did not

grace our tables until the 70s.

(Remember the imported

German wines Black Tower

and Blue Nun?)

Things began to change

they could go to the

fish shop and buy

a skinned rabbit for

sixpence. Dad was

a shopkeeper, too,

and each week, he

brought home a

meat order from the

butcher, wrapped

in brown paper and

tied with string. Our

diet centred on meat,

always accompanied

by three vegetables,

harvested daily from our

garden plot. We had a

bowl of “dripping” to

cook with, our cheese

was Chesdale, or a soft,

creamy imported

cheese wrapped in foil

triangles, and the only

pasta we ever had was

macaroni or tinned

spaghetti in an unlikely

“pizza pie”. There was,

without fail, a dessert to

conclude dinner.

We can expect

more recognition

for New

Zealand cuisine

internationally

as locally trained

chefs head

overseas.

Those were the days:

milk deliveries and the

novelty of supermarket

shopping; below,

chicken was a treat.