When I was Single
trad
When I was single, I wore a plaid shawl
Now that I'm married, I've nothing at all
Chorus
Oh, but still I love him, I'll forgive him
I'll go with him wherever he goes
He came up our alley and he whistled me out
But the tail of his shirt from his trousers hung out
Chorus
He bought me a handkerchief, red, white and blue
But before I could wear it, he tore it in two
Chorus
He brought me to an ale house and he bought me some stout
But before I could drink it, he ordered me out
Chorus
He borrowed some money to buy me a ring
Then he and the jeweller went off on a fling
Chorus
There's cake in the oven, there's cheese on the shelf
If you want any more, you can sing it yourself
Chorus
Grandma's Knife Skills
Grandma was not just an excellent cook, her skills in the kitchen were superb.
Granma’s knives were always razor sharp. More than once, I drew blood while drying a knife. I think my grandfather kept them honed for her, but I do remember her taking a long-bladed knife outside and honing it on the shingles on the side of the house.
Commonly at Grandma’s house, there were round loaves of fresh bread, which Grandma sliced by holding the loaf against her chest on its rim, and drawing the knife towards her to carve off a slice, tapering off halfway to finish the slice, despatching the bread onto a plate, and flipping the loaf around to carve it from the other side.
Another skill she had was to peel a potato with a paring knife, the peel coming off in one unbroken ribbon. When she was making French fries (more accurately Belgian fries), she would have a stack of peeled potatoes ready to go. She would pick one up, cup it in her hand, and, holding it sort of sideways, slice it into about 4 thick layers. Then she would point her hand upwards, and crosscut the spud, dropping neat fingers of spud into the hot fat.
The Maes Family c 1960
I never learned to use a knife the way my grandmother did. I learned a lot from her, though, mostly by watching and taking note when she asked me to help.
If you asked her for a recipe, she gave you a ball park overview. She would read recipes in newspapers and magazines but she didn’t take them literally. I learned basic techniques of how ingredients work to gather to achieve desired textures and flavors, and how to use the items in the pantry to assemble a meal or a dessert.
She never taught my mother to cook. Mum told me she was a bit of a tom boy, and spent a lot of her time outdoors, either with friends or with her father. Also, her parents were convinced she was destined to be more than a housewife. So, when Mum found herself mistress of the house at the age of nineteen, she was often on the phone to her mother asking for cooking advice.
Mum became an excellent cook but she was heavily reliant on recipes. She once told me she considered me a better cook because I was better at improvising. I was pretty pleased with that!
