by Gail Kavanagh

Created on: January 11, 2009   Last Updated: January 04, 2012

It's the end of the week and there's not much left in the cupboard but a bag of flour and a tin of Golden Syrup, or Cocky's Joy as we call it in Australia. Not much joy in that, you would think.

But out comes the mixing bowl, in goes the flour, a pinch of salt and enough cold water to make a workable dough, and before long there is a loaf of quick bread in the oven. Australians call it damper - it is the easiest bread in the world to make, but it doesn't keep very long. It needs to be eaten right away.

Why does this simple recipe arouse such memories of when our kids were young and times were often hard? And why would they be the kind of joyful memories that I would never part with? Because our kids, God bless them, thought Damper Day was a special treat.

Hot and fresh from the oven, I would wrap the bread in a tea towel to keep the crust from hardening too much, take the lid off the Golden Syrup and soon everyone would come running, drawn by the smell of the bread, and the promise of a slice dripping with syrup. Golden syrup is fairly thick, and golden just like it's name, very sweet and delicious. It was called Cocky's Joy because it comes in tins, and keeps forever, so 'cockys' or farmers, loved it.

Watching our children tucking into this simple meal with such pleasure, we didn't feel poor - neither did they. All their friends envied them and wanted to join in. After all, their parents paid good money at theme parks to eat the same thing. Even after our kids left home, they came back for Damper and Golden Syrup. When they had families of their own, they called home for the recipe.

Some recipes do bring back memories, and if we are lucky they are good meories, even if they are bad recipes. Bread pudding is one of those dreadful English concoctions made of stale breadcrumbs, suet and sultanas. I have tasted some almost edible versions, but my grandmother's recipe defied description. She baked it in a huge sqaure pan, and if someone was building a house they might have a use for those big square bricks, but the stomach received them like a spoonful of wet cement.

I would never cook or eat bread pudding - but whever I come across the recipe, or hear it mentioned, I am whisked back to my grandmother's London house. She was the worst cook in the world, but the kindest and most loving woman I ever knew. Her stews were so thick with barley they had to be sliced and eaten with a fork, but when I stayed with her she would sing lullabies and gently brush my hair until it shone. Funny how a bad recipe can take me back to such a happy time.

Another family favorite is Spaghetti Bolognese, or Spag Bol. Our Spag Bol nights were Dad'scooking night. He made Spag Bol from the ground up, no bottled sauce for him. Out came the blender, in went the tomatoes and the basil and one of the kids would start grating the cheese. The kids still fondly reminisce about Dad's spaghetti nights, and of course, they all phoned home for the recipe.

Family meal times can be like that, a warm and happy bonding time with recipes that pass into family lore and legend. Every recipe written into the family cook book has its own memory attached - the chocolate cake shaped like a tank for the eldest boy's birthday, the creamy rice pudding or lemon meringue pie that were always top of the list for desserts, and the hot pumpkin soup that greeted those coming home on cold winter days.

If you're lucky, the memories are good. If you are very lucky, so is the recipe.

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