“Through these various phases, only to live has been the great object of mankind; but, by-and-by, comforts are multiplied, and accumulating riches create new wants. The object, then, is not only to live, but to live economically, agreeably, tastefully, and well.” Mrs Beeton, Book of Household Management. Find this pictured recipe for her Curate’s Pudding
Read on for a new collection of frugal food stories from mothers and grandmothers closer to home. In collaboration with photographer, Maria Bell, we’ve been touring the UK to share the waste-free wisdom of several British women from diverse backgrounds.
I interview 80-year-old Dee from south Wales who likes her pwdin reis with black skin on it. Rice pudding was once eaten for Sunday dinner all over Wales, slow-cooked overnight to make use of a hot oven after baking bread.
My first efforts at cooking were to open a tin of soup and a tin of baked beans and combine them. I called it STEWP. Chrys is laughing her head off, listing her first forays into cooking in early 1970’s Southport, northern England.
They’ll throw the fish heads in the bin if I don’t buy them. I stick them in the freezer to use in soups. They’re full of flavour, says Nolda. Read on for Nolda’s very frugal fish soup with Jamaican dumplings.
“But in the homes, not only of the Turks but also of the Serbs, nothing was changed. They lived, worked and amused themselves in the old way. Bread was still mixed in kneading troughs, coffee roasted on the hearth, clothes steamed in coppers and washed with soda which hurt the women’s fingers.” – Ivo Andric, The
We’d been driving for at least an hour in a bulletproof 4×4 heading south of Yerevan. Our driver, a surly man who proffered persimmons and sweets, was heading home to Armenia’s contested and highly militarised Karabach region in the south. Our village stop was on his way. An Orthodox cross swung on a string of
“Eternal Albania, bearing its tragic destiny with dignity, as he had come to know it not only from its epic poetry but also from the inn up there” – The File on H, Ismail Kadare It’s not the church bells that ring in the beginning of a new day, but the familiar methodical toll of
I’m fussing, as my kids would tell you I do best. Slightly worried about having the food photographs, I am a home cook!? Judy writes. We’ve spoken on the phone and exchanged a few emails and I’m due to visit her at her home in south Wales with Maria Bell, a photographer friend of mine.