Ox tongue, crubeens, spam, real tea and baked Alaska
By Tom Gillespie
IN the pre-fridge and microwave days of yore, believe it or not, we did not starve, nor were we the victims of food poisoning.
However, the choice of foodstuffs was limited, but what we had was wholesome and more often that not, homemade.
We lived, initially at number 4, Spencer Street, Castlebar, and when I was about five we moved to number 9, Marian Row, a new 24-house estate.
Times were frugal then in the mid-1950s but every household was in the same boat and we just got on with life.
Porridge for breakfast was prepared the night before. My mother would mix the Flahavan’s oats in water and cook it slowly, leaving the mixture to ‘mature’ overnight.
The next morning the task was to scrap the ‘skin’ from the top of the saucepan. Then you reheated the porridge and served it up in a bowl with some milk and sugar - delicious.
Today, of course, porridge is made with milk and all kinds of sweeteners, like honey, are added.
The microwave version is handy but does not at all taste like the overnight version of the ‘50s.
The breakfast was accompanied by some toast cut from a batch loaf, coated with homemade marmalade or blackcurrant jam.
A strong cup of tea was made using loose tea leaves - still my favourite - and the kettle was on constant boil on the ever-lit Jubilee range in the kitchen.
Back then dinner time was at one o’clock. How and when it ever moved to the evening time I can’t remember.
Each day of the week was dedicated to a particular dish - bacon and cabbage on Monday, Tuesday saw lamb chops on the table, a beef stew on Wednesday (in winter time), pork chops on Thursday, fish on a Friday, and usually a chicken or roast beef on Sunday.
Saturday, however, was always somewhat of the surprise or a lucky dip. It was not unusual to see stuffed lamb or beef hearts on the menu. I preferred the lamb hearts as they were not as strong tasting as the ox hearts.
Another speciality was ox tongue. Now this took a lot of preparing.
Initially the tongue had to be pickled for more than a week. I vividly recall the tongue being placed in a container and being covered in pickling liquid and a heavy weight was placed on top to keep it submerged.
On removal it had to be steeped in cold water for a few hours. You then trimmed away the root, arched the tongue, putting a skewer through the root and tip, with twine tied around the skewer to prevent it slipping out.
To cook you covered it in cold water and brought it to the boil slowly, occasionally skimming away any residue.
You then added vegetables - onion, carrot, white turnip, two sticks of celery and a bouquet garni.
The tongue was then gently simmered until cooked - a small tongue took two to 2.5 hours and a large tongue three to 3.5 hours.
When cooked you had to remove the skin carefully. It was then covered with a sheet of greased paper and placed in the oven for a few minutes to reheat and served hot with a parsley sauce.
Pigs cheeks were another treat as were a whole pig's head, pig's tail, breast bones, crubeens, breast of lamb, lamb’s liver, sheep and ox kidneys.
The dinners were accompanied by a selection of home-grown vegetables and potatoes.
There was a fine garden attached to the Marian Row houses and each household took pride in what they could grow.
Teatime was usually a light meal. The likes of beans or scrambled eggs on toast or mashed banana on brown bread. Before you went to bed a cup of cocoa was considered a treat.
In between meals, maybe on returning from school, you were given a slice of bread and butter with homemade jam - strawberry or gooseberry.
We baked our own brown bread and to this day we still use my mother’s special recipe.
During that period Castlebar Bacon Factory was in full production and the range of products were highly regarded nationwide.
The Barcastle sausages were renowned for their flavour and it’s a pity the recipe has not been retained. Chickens, spam and corned beef were also popular from the factory.
The Sunday breakfast was a tradition in each household and on returning from Mass the smell of cooking rashers wafting from kitchens was mouthwatering.
There were very few treats in those days. There were no takeaways. The Wimpy Bar, where the Irish House Bar now stands on Ellison Street, did not come on the scene until the late 1960s. Before that Maureen O’Loughlan’s on Castle Street was where you could eat in.
Potato chips were always homemade and served maybe once a month, if you were lucky, as they took a fair bit of preparation.
There were a limited number of after-dinner treats and I suppose custard and apple tart and jelly and custard stick out in my mind.
However, my mother used to make an upside-down cake and she was a dab hand at producing the most magnificent-tasting baked Alaska I have ever encountered.
Wild mushrooms, when in season, were always collected and enjoyed - no such thing as freezing then, and they were eaten the same day or next morning.
We did not have the choice of exotic vegetables that are available today. But I do remember returning from Sloyan’s Bar and Shop with my father on a Sunday afternoon in the the early 1970s and purchasing a jar of celery for the dinner. How things have changed.
Now, of course, ready prepared dinners are all the rage and are a God send for those living alone. But it is hard to beat home cooked meals using the best of locally produced produce which are becoming more and more sought after.