Am just back from a glorious weekend at the farm with three families and phenomenal Mums who put my domestic abilities to shame. I really have to get rid of my ‘get the f*** out of my kitchen mantra’ because the Mama Bears who visited this weekend were more than welcome in the kitchen, in fact, I’m not sure I cooked at all and before I’d even committed my brain to think about dishes, they were done.
These chicks were like kitchen fairies and they seemed to love every minute of their fairydom. They are domestic goddesses and not in Ye Olde Fashioned Way…..in that killer 2014 Jamie Oliver/Curtis Stone/Nigella Lawson kinda way. My envy for their ability to feed 20+ people (yes, 20+) and not break into even a mild sweat is ENORMOUS. They prepared just enough food so that no one felt guilty to take seconds but not too much that we had to eat the left overs for days on end. They’re those Mum’s who effortlessly rock up to the farm with some ingredients in little bags and all of a sudden a self saucing pudding has just been made from flour and water (well that’s what it looked like to me). Salads that came together before I had even looked at what was in the fridge and enough marinated meat to make the boys in my family want a new Mum.
I suspect the Big Guy is sitting here tonight contemplating the raw deal he got when he married me. You see, he doesn’t get a fully cooked meal each night, he gets whatever is left over from the cherubs and lately, that’s not much. So, he tends to make his own stir fry each night from whatever vegetables are left over in the bottom of the fridge and appear to be wilting but not enough wilt to be classified as fungi.
When I finally grow up and learn how to cook from scratch and not from a packet I’m going to be just like them. I’m not sure when I’ll grow up but Mr 9 wrote me a love letter this week and it appears he loves me despite constantly serving him up ‘packet food’ so it’s well known in my family that some kind of something from a packet is loved and adored (kind of).
We were in food heaven all weekend and before you could sit down to catch your breath, each of them would say “would you like a cup of tea?”. Endless and glorious amounts of tea and the tea was perfect and they didn’t even ask me how I liked it – I swear, they are magical women with magical fairy wings who deserve a Sainthood for their lack of martyrdom.
Which takes me to tea. Tea is a complex beast and yet the magical Mama’s nailed the tea every.single.time. I, on the other hand have a complete inability to adhere to requests of how tea is made and simply put a tea bag in the cup, dunk it for as much time as I actually have to make tea (about 30 seconds), add a dash of milk and too bad so sad if that’s not how you take it because that’s how it comes.
People are very funny about their tea and how it’s made. I’ve had some hilarious conversations with couples who can come close to divorce over a cup of tea and how it’s made, who makes the better cup of tea and why you do/don’t put the tea bag/milk/sugar in and when.
The Big Guy just asked me for a cup of tea which I made in a very fast manner, certainly not enough time for him to be happy with the consistency of the tea being soaked into the water but had to BLOG so he was lucky I was feeling generous and naturally knows what’s good for him so didn’t whinge.
I concede that in our household, the Big Guy and now the Magical Mama Bear Kitchen Fairies make the best cups of tea. I’m happy to hand that title over to them.
Do you have a magical tea fairy in your house? How do you like your tea? Are you fussy about the way it’s made? Do you fight over who makes the best tea?