Most of my early memories revolve around food and family and my Grandma in particular (we called her PoPo). My grandparents ran a Chinese takeaway, as many Chinese immigrants did back in the 80's. They lived in the rooms above the takeaway and because there was no separation of work and home life, they worked pretty much constantly. They would get up, start the day’s prep, have the main meal of the day, open the takeaway, cook all night and then repeat. The takeaway was closed one day a week, normally a Tuesday as it would have been the quietest day of the week for the business, so that they could rest. The whole family was involved. My parents and Aunts included. I grew up surrounded by my family and food, it's little wonder I love it!
The actual earliest memory I have is of standing in the takeaway’s kitchen, slurping down a bowl of my Grandma's 'Chicken soup'. My mom was pregnant with my brother and she had gone to a doctor's appointment so I was with Grandma for the afternoon. I held the bowl in my hands and drank straight from it, getting my face right into the steaming goodness! I was probably only 3 or 4 years old but the colour, taste and smell of that broth is what I can remember most vividly. My Grandma was an ace soup maker. She brewed the soup for hours in a huge pot. I only highlight the 'Chicken' part because really, it was an everything soup! In the pot would go offcuts from the days prep so that nothing went to waste, chicken bones, meat, herbs and veggies of all sorts. I don't know how she did it but the result was a clear, rich golden broth. It was deeply savoury and aromatic, with a sweetness from the vegetables and Chinese dates and a slight bitterness from the herbs she put in it. Nothing else I’ve ever eaten has tasted as good as that soup (sorry Mum). It tasted of love, comfort and warmth, it tasted of Grandma.
We would sometimes keep each other company while my parents were busy. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and the thought of letting a toddler loose in a commercial kitchen now is terrifying but she would give me small tasks to do to keep me amused. I remember intently peeling garlic cloves and accidentally rubbing my eyes and wondering why I was crying so much. She would send me to fetch her some rice upstairs and I'd find mangoes hidden in the rice barrels. For a long time, I thought that all rice had mangoes in it and that they somehow grew from the rice. We would eat little snacks as she pottered around getting ready to open. We'd often have noodles and share a Fry's peppermint cream bar. It was just Grandma and me in a kitchen and it was magical.
Sometime after my parents got married and had me, they took over the running of a restaurant in a nearby town. Grandma and Granddad would come to visit their precious grandchildren once a week. Every Tuesday was Grandma day!
We would all sit down together to have a family meal and Grandma would pick out the best bits of everything to feed to us children. She also had a wickedly sweet tooth. I think it was born out of not having had the luxury of sweet treats as a child.
Photo above left to right: Grandad, Grandma, Me (in the dress with the bow), My youngest brother Al, Mom (with her back to us), the older of my two brothers Andy, Dad (with his back to us)
She always had sweets and chocolates in the capacious pockets of her cardigans which she would dole out behind our parent’s backs. She was generous and indulged us with both her affection and her sweets! Cadbury’s roses, wrapped toffees and Chocolate covered Brazil nuts were particular favourites. I was a terrible child and would suck the chocolate off the Brazil nuts and give them back to her. Gross right?! We didn’t celebrate Halloween in our younger years and she would have had no idea what it was all about. It didn’t matter though, when trick or treaters came around, she would just give them handfuls from her usual, ever present tin of Roses.
She died when I was 7. My family were surprised by the women with small children in buggies who turned up at her funeral. These seemingly random strangers were people she'd been kind to. She’d run a small takeaway in Cork City for so many years that her regulars missed her and wanted to pay their respects. She was kind and welcoming to them. Despite a language barrier, she was a part of the community, she touched people’s lives. It was more than ten years later that I had a fellow student at University ask me if Mrs Lee who ran the takeaway on Pine Street was any relation to me. He told me that when he was a kid, she would give him and his brother a 'half' bag of chips each because they couldn't afford a full portion. It was only later that he realised she was giving them both a full bag of chips for the price of one half bag because she knew they were hungry. He wanted me to know that he remembered her and not to disparage the people who took over the business, but the curry sauce was never the same. It made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
Popo's birthday, taken in the takeaway kitchen
Food and kindness can bring people together. I think it’s telling how many of my early memories involve my Grandma. I still cannot eat a chocolate Brazil nut without thinking of her. She was an awesome woman, tough, incredibly hard working, loving and kind. She probably kicked off my obsession with sweet treats.
If you would like to read more about the history of Chinese takeaways in the UK and the stories of the people who run them, head over to https://gal-dem.com/a-joyful-celebration-of-britains-chinese-takeaways/ also check out their Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/chinesetakeawaysuk/?hl=en-gb
What are your earliest food memories? Were they positive or negative?
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