During the two years that the young girl worked for the dairy farmer’s mother, she learned how to cook, and salmon mornay was a favourite dish. Melting the butter, whisking in the flour with a fork, adding the milk, getting the bones out of the tinned salmon … it was all rather magical for the young girl.
Eventually, she became quite adventurous in the kitchen and one afternoon, while the dairy farmer’s mother was having her afternoon nap, she cooked fish cakes for their dinner. It was the first time she had cooked anything without the dairy farmer’s mother’s supervision and she was very excited as she followed the instructions of a recipe book found in a secret drawer in the kitchen table.
It was a disaster! The fish cakes were thin and charcoaly instead of being plump and crispy. The dairy farmer didn’t say anything as his mother rose from her chair and declared that the meal was “DIABOLICAL!”
The young girl fled to the back veranda bathroom to cry out her humiliation, the dairy farmer put his mother to bed, and that was that … until the young girl accidentally allowed the simmering grapefruit marmalade to boil over the pot and into the precious Aga. But that’s another story.
Note: Not everything is funny in retrospect, but a lot is! I haven’t lit the Aga for the four years since Ants has been in the nursing home, but it is, nevertheless, a constant reminder of the various mishappinesses of the beginning of our relationship. I reminded Ants today and he gave me his slow half-smile: gold!
jmgoyder 
So sorry things went wrong but it was a long time ago.
I eventually became a good cook!
Gold was his smile! I love it! I love it when I see Skip’s smile … like you said … ‘gold!’ ❤
Yes and I am thinking of both you a lot lately due to your ordeals.
Some of it may not be funny, but memorable none the less. ❤
Definitely!
Diabolical was a bit harsh for a new cook and I can imagine how much that hurt. An Aga is not an easy stove to get used to…like forgetting there’s a roast in the bottom oven…and finding it the next morning…eeek, talk about a charcoal briquette! Anyway, you survived to cook another day and have kept the love of that man in spite of it all. And your salmon mornay sounds a lot like a dish I despised growing up, called salmon peawiggle. ugh and ugh and yuck 🙂
xoxo
You cracked me up with your ughs!
oops…did I say ugh? I meant U G H! 😉
Oh dear. I feel bad for the young girl but I’m glad to know the memories of her mishaps can still bring a smile to the dairy farmer’s face. 🙂
Yes, he loves these mini-stories!
I think awkward beginnings make for a great story. Obviously, you learned later on and had great pride in lavishing lovely meals upon Anthony, just the way his mother did. Your intentions were good to surprise everyone – nothing fishy about that!
Ha! You always say the right thing and make me laugh.
The woes of being inexperienced . I imagine you laugh now looking back
I do, Anonymous!
how things have changed )
Yes!
We wait eagerly for the tale of the marmalade catastrophe.
It’s quite a melodramatic story.
But, eventually you learned the secrets of cooking in spite of the diabolical comment. Some of us would have just given up and never learned at all. I am remembering Anthony’s comment on your ability with salmon mornay and believe that this event of the past was worth the compliment he gave you this week and his smile today.
Lol. Cooking mishaps can only be funny in retrospect. At the time, they loom larger than they really are:) Sometimes, even when you get it right, your success is “diaboloical.” (Love that). My husband and kids still shiver when they remember my salmon mousse.
What can one say, many people have had meals that did not turn out the way we thought it would and at the time it is not funny and many years later it might be funny but not always