"Are they ready yet": When pasties and memories combine

My mum passed away fourteen years ago after a battle with cancer. She didn't die well to be honest; Not in pain, the morphine took care of that, but she was unable to speak in the end and was unrecognisable. It's not necessarily how I remember her though.

I know, that sounds like a pretty depressing way to start a blog...And what the hell is the picture of the Cornish Pastie all about?

My mum used to make some pretty good Cornish Pasties. It was a special occasion thing, which I say with some sorrow, as I honestly could have eaten them every day. It was an all day thing, the chopping of vegetables, making of dough and of course filling and closing up the pasties complete with the trademark knot. I can still smell the amazing aroma of pasties cooking emanating from within the kitchen..."Are they ready yet," being a phrase repeated on more than one occasion.

Living in a small country town we had a pretty large property and so once those pasties were cooked we would generally take them outside, find a nice little spot and spread out the rug and have a pastie-picnic. The whole family. When I mean the whole family I mean my older brother, mum, dad, my granddad and nana and me of course. My younger brothers and sister were not born at the time. It was a nice time, Yes, I know you may think it lame...But years later I can recall it like it was yesterday and so to me it's not lame...More, an enduring life memory.

I have a Cornish heritage on my mum's side. Her father derives from Cornish immigrants who arrived in the mid 1800's. The Cornish potato famine in the 1840's made the arduous journey appealing and so off they sailed arriving in Australia to settle in Burra, Kadina and Moonta where copper deposits had just been discovered. Of course, with them came the Cornish pasty.

I recently travelled to England and spent a week in Cornwall to follow back some of my ancestors and to understand where I came from a little better. It was a mind-blowingly amazing experience to walk on the paths my ancestors walked, and worked as miners and farmers.

The pasty featured prominently wherever we went of course and I tried many. I guess I figured I may not be back for a long time and wanted to get as much Cornish into me as possible. Yes, I know...The body doesn't work like that, but don't tell my stomach. So, I ate a few pasties and every time was reminded of my mum's home made ones from all those years ago.

As my younger siblings came along life changed, it got busier for the entire family and money became tighter; Only my dad worked so supporting the growing family became harder on his single salary. It also changed the way mum did the mum-thing. Instead of making bread each day it was purchased. As were cakes and scones and things like that. Everything became a little more streamlined and efficient which was great but in hindsight I wish it never happened. Not that I wish my siblings didn't come along, only that life could still be the same simple thing it was when I was 6 or 7. Alas, those days are long gone.

When I see a Cornish pasty it represents a few different aspects of my life: Heritage, childhood, parents, holidays and of course those days spent sitting outside the kitchen plying with some toys waiting for mum's pasties to cook and pasty-picnics in a shady spot. It was no different on the day I consumed the pasty in this image. I was sitting in a place called Porthleven, Cornwall with some Cornish friends and we chatted about Cornish life, my ancestors and life in general...And once more the humble Cornish pasty became the central point for memories that will stay with me for years to come. Ok, there were a few beers there too, but the pasties took centre stage.

I'll never eat a Cornish pasty made by my mum again however will certainly eat many Cornish pasties in the future. Each time it will take me back to the fond memories created in my hometown, the kitchen warmed by the oven holding trays of mum's Cornish pasties and of course my journey across the world to go home to Cornwall. Isn't life grand that a relatively simple food item, the Cornish pasty can come to mean so much to a person, can represent so many memories.