I was debating about doing this all day.

Here we go.

On Saturday, before rehearsal, I went to Tramstop cafe in Coorproo.

Don’t worry, this isn’t an ad for them, though they aren’t bad.

I ordered the meatloaf. Unlike some people I know, and know of, I have no issues with meatloaf. I especially have no issue with one that reminded me of my mum’s rissoles and inspired this entry.

Just a heads up, it may be short due to personal reasons, I am not sure yet… If this warning is not here, then the length was fine.

I love my mum’s cooking.

Firstly, my mum does not cook a large variety of dishes. Nor is she a world class cook. The few dishes she does cook though, I love. I am also only going to mention a few of those here, as this is one of those times where the more I think about it, the more I think of stuff she cooked.

Let’s start with the Rissoles.

My Mum’s Rissoles.

I am not going to say the recipe here. It was probably different every time anyway, and I am pretty sure she got the recipe from a magazine somewhere.

That is irrelevant though.

Mum’s rissoles didn’t always stay together when you bit into them. Sometimes they were pretty big. Sometimes the outside of them was a touch burnt. Once you covered them in the sauce of your choosing, it didn’t matter. She once made a plate of smallish ones for a party, I am pretty certain there should have been more made as they disappeared really quick. This was normally the case, not just because I eat a lot, I swear.

I used to help make them, and mum would make sure there was enough mince so that I can pinch some of the raw mix before they were cooked and we’d still have enough left.

I have eaten many different rissoles and meatballs in my life, and these are still some of my favourites, after the ikea ones of course. The best way to eat them, mum’s not ikea’s, was smothered in bbq sauce. I would have happily eaten a whole plate on my own, if you hadn’t already had that impression, but usually they were accompanied by potato, pumpkins, carrots and peas. I want to say chips sometimes, but I don’t think they were. Maybe they were once or twice and I had just forgotten.

Quick Chick

I have a vague recollection of my mum saying she got this out of a Woman’s Day microwave cook book, or a magazine somewhere. I am not sure if she did or didn’t, that is not the important part. This is one of the simplest casserole/stews to make I can think of. Some of you may shudder at the thought of frozen veges but fu…but it worked ok.

This one I will give you the recipe for.

Take some chicken, I never said an accurate recipe, take some water, some french onion soup (I think), some cream of chicken soup (you know I am not sure I really remember this properly) and some frozen veges. Cut the chicken up into pieces. Put everything in a microwave proof casserole dish. Microwave for, for, for what seemed a really long time to a kid…12 minutes? 20? I guess it depends on the wattage of your microwave. oh…add salt.

I loved this one the best, out of all the savoury dishes. If anyone ever makes me a chicken soup or stew, this is the flavour that my mind automatically compares it to. Sorry, but it does unless it is Japanese curry. This was the one I remember having most of the time, and that is fine. It was great. It was simple, savoury and, to my mind, superb. This is one of the things my mum makes that I will never tire of, even though it has been a really, really, really long time since I had it (not a hint mum).

I have eaten, as many of you know, a very broad variety of things. My favourites include chocolate silkworms, roast duck, emu tartare, pork belly, deep fried pork intestine and nestled amongst all of these will always be Quick Chick.

Chocolate Chip Bickies

This was also done from a recipe mum got somewhere. Don’t care where at this point. I have made it, my daughter has made it, my mum still makes the best ones though.

This is one of those recioes that has never failed to have people asking for more. It is pretty simple, and I don’t think we use measurements for it any more. I didn’t last time I made it (ages and ages ago), and I don’t think my daughter did either. She may have, doesn’t matter.

The best bit about this is not the finished product though (as addictive as it is), but the raw dough. This is the shit dreams are made of. The right amount of sweet, with a beautiful, soft texture. You can do what you want to yours (you can’t as I didn’t give you the recipe HA), but I just want mine with chocolate chips. That is it.

Though there is not an oven I know of big enough to make as many as I want at the moment.

Love you mum.