chapter III - cheese in the oven

shades of grey .........
After our time in London, we returned to the land of my fathers, quite literally. My parents took us back to my father’s hometown to live, the village of Penrhewceiber in the Rhondda Valley. How we got there, whether it be by train or by coach I do not recall. What I do remember however, is my grandfather taking myself and my two sisters for a walk. Where we stood at the end of a long Welsh street, with some boiled sweets of some description and being told to guess which house we thought we would be living in.

I cannot recall what sweets they were, but for some reason black and white striped bullseyes would be my choice. I cannot say why, it is just what sticks in my mind. We walked the length of that street, calling out to grandad, “is it that one, is it that one”? We had to walk the complete length, because as it turns out the house was the last house in the street. A large house, the largest on the street, that was detached from the other terrace houses and sat there all by itself. Looking all grand and proud and important, it wasn’t, but that is how I remember feeling.

Follow the letter F about halfway up, and to the left slightly you can see a small whitish blob, that was our house. Grey slate and dreary colours for the most part, except for the green, green, grass of home that is. The mountains might have been a patchwork quilt of colours but the township itself was as grey as in this photo. Growing up in the valleys though was as colourful as a rainbow. Always so much to do, always so much innocent mischief to get up to. Chasing sheep up the mountains, collecting frog and toad spawn, catching newts, playing in coal dust piles, making dutch arrows and generally having an innocent, care free, out from dawn until dusk childhood. 

home made potato crisps

We shared that large house with my father’s sister and her family, my Aunty Shirley and Uncle Roy. They went on to have quite a family, but at that time just my eldest cousin; Vincent. Aunty Shirley being responsible for another strong memory of a five year old. She used to make these home made potato crisps, the flavour of which stays with me to this day. They were like the commercially made ‘Quavers’, or might have been a form of prawn cracker for all I know, I don’t recall a prawn flavour and don’t think they would have been, because of course in circa 1965 prawn crackers were probably not known in a little Welsh village and if they were, they would have been an uber exotic food. But the texture was the same, and when eaten soon after cooking, they would stick to this five year old’s tongue. Whatever they were, I remember them being cooked in the chip pan, and we were always eager to get at them as soon as possible after cooking, so we could place them on our tongues and have them cling to our tongues as they absorbed the moisture. It was such a magical feeling. 

tea and toast

It was at this house that many other food memories occurs, all connected to breakfast time. As was quite usual in the sixties, even us kiddies drank tea, it was strong, dark sweet tea, tea that was brewed so strong it left one’s mouth slightly dry. But at breakfast time, one of two things would occur. If we were having cereal, instead of milk we would pour half of our tea over it. Who knows why, maybe we did it when there wasn’t enough milk in the house, maybe it was just a family thing that we just did. Whatever the reason, boy did it taste good. Much better than hot milk. But if we were having toast, that got dunked into the cup of tea. No matter what was spread on the toast, it got dunked. Whether lightly buttered with jam, or just buttered it was dunked. Butter was the spread of poor in the sixties, it was also never thought of as being fattening or unhealthy in any way. As such that toast was more often than not thickly buttered, which meant when folded and dunked in the tea, the tea would end up with a buttery, oil slick floating on top. Which of course was eagerly gulped down regardless. It was decades later, that I discovered on my travels to Italy that in parts of Italy, freshly churned, whipped butter is often dolloped on top of an espresso coffee. Not our British, yellow butter but something more akin a thick cream. But still, maybe we just trend setters without knowing it!


cheese in the oven

Not all food memories of course are pleasant ones. Within that large house, brings a memory of such culinary horror, it can still make me gag to this day. My mother would make a dish she called ‘cheese in the oven’, a baked cheese dish that would end up swimming in that grease that comes when cheese is overcooked. To make matters worse, it would be served with thickly buttered bread. I remember how it would make me gag, make me dry reach and how I would be told that if I didn’t eat it, I would be going to bed hungry. So it was always eaten as I remember, but, lord how I hated it. 

I have since discovered it is a typical welsh peasant’s dish,
usually cooked and served when money was tight. I would imagine times were hard for my parents back then. After coming out of the Police force, my father I think found it hard to get work in the valleys, and after trying his hand at many things (none of which he was good at) he re-joined the navy. So, I presume there would be times, mother would have to wait for his cheque, and have to wait too long at times. My Uncle Roy told me recently that once, he got my father a job with him doing construction, my father was so bad at it, essentially Uncle Roy covered for him for months and months before he was found out and my father dismissed. 

But this horror dish of my childhood, was what the Welsh call; baked cheese pudding or “pwdin caws”, it is essentially a dish of grated cheese, butter, mixed with breadcrumbs and bound with eggs and milk and oven baked. Cheddar or Caerphilly being a cheap staple food in those days and therefore a good, cheap protein source. I have often thought of re-creating it, but can never muster the bravery. maybe some things are best left in the past.

                                                                                                                                              

recipe - cheese in the oven

120 gm grated cheddar cheese
120 gm fresh breadcrumbs
30 gm butter 
2 pc eggs
300 ml milk

preparation method
pre-heat oven to 180°C. Lightly beat the egg yolks in a bowl. Meanwhile heat the milk in a pan then add to the eggs along with the butter and mustard. Mix well before adding the breadcrumbs and the majority of the cheese. Season with salt and pepper then place the egg whites in a separate bowl. Beat well until the whites forms stiff peaks then lightly fold into the milk mixture, making certain its well incorporated 

Tip the batter into a well-oiled pie dish and scatter the remaining cheese over the top. Place in the oven and bake for about 35 minutes or until well-risen and coloured a golden brown