My father told me on Friday that a very good friend of my sister who happened to be English passed away earlier on last week. Normally I really don’t like to write about my private life, but I can’t really pass by this without saying anything. Not because I’m mourning, because, well, he wasn’t my friend, we didn’t even get along until I became much older. I think they befriended each other when I was about 10 – and well, my English wasn’t particularly good at that point. :p
When I got older and my English got better, I think Dave (because this was his name) could not believe that someone like me could be the sister of someone like my sister. Our characters are very different, and obviously his preference lay in my sister’s character, so we spent most of the time ignoring each other. And when not, it was usually him making provocative remarks (I’m guessing this was to help me see my sister’s end of the story better,) which I then shrugged off or responded to the way I felt appropriate.
What I found very interesting about him was that I never heard about him work – I know he had a job and that he was successful, so successful that he retired early, but I have no clue what he had been doing. I also don’t remember his last name (shame on me) – but I do remember several other things.
He was a handyman – he built and restored furniture, he had this old English house that he pimped out pretty nicely, etc. etc. He also traveled a lot, and if I am not mistaken, also for the purpose of charity work. (I’m going to check with my sister about this as I’m not sure this is true.) He was a very good photographer and a very keen one too – I think this was one of the things that really bothered me when I was a teenager – I couldn’t quite understand why you’d want to take pictures of everything and everyone. (Let it be said right here - he took one of the best portraits ever of my grandmother and my sister together (and also separately.) I think he really had talent for photography, good for him. :p)
In the year 2000, while I was living in the Netherlands (I didn’t dare to write Holland in case any Dutch person reads this and yells my head off since Friesland is not in Holland :p) – my sister and her then brand new husband took a year off to live with Dave in the UK. And since my sister celebrated a nice round birthday in 2000 (not sure she’d like me to tell how old she is) – Dave was nice enough to invite my whole family to stay in his house for a while. The house was very nice (as I already pointed out) but what amazed me the most, and this is the one thing I had absolutely no idea about – he was quite an excellent cook.
And when I say excellent cook, I don’t mean it in a fish & chips or penne with tomato sauce way. He made 2-3 course dinners that suited about 15 people every night, and it looked to me like he was leading a traditional English kitchen. I must admit that Dave single handedly restored my faith in English cuisine - don’t laugh, it actually exists beyond the Woolton Pie and the Cornish Pasty or however you spell it.
He was a great inspiration to me in some aspects. I know for one that his recipe allowed me to make a mean Shepherd’s Pie. Mmm… that was actually quite amazing, even though I expected it to fail. He also put new ideas in my head about how to make roasts. He’d either marinade his roast in treacle or stick cloves into the meat. I tried both, they were both really tasty. He also cooked carrots in orange juice with fresh ginger added – maybe this wasn’t his invention, maybe this is totally common, but I’d never had it before, so I’m obviously always going to connect this to him.
Unfortunately, I will probably never find out what exactly he put into that one pork stew (casserole, more like) that gave it its spicy hot taste. I am pretty sure it wasn’t chili peppers, or cayenne pepper, but it was so good, even for a person that doesn’t like spicy food (me) that I will never forget it.
So, I guess this is my way of saying thanks to a guy that was probably a better person that I ever credited him (and vice versa) – I know for a fact that he touched many people’s lives, although possibly not through his cooking, which was what touched mine.
So long Dave – safe travels.
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