ALWAYS EAT EVERYTHING ON YOUR PLATE

 

We were always told to 'Eat Everything on Your Plate' 

I have wondered if almost starving during the occupation of Holland in WW11 influenced my father to make us eat everything on our plates as kids.

He, like my Opa, had a magnificent veggie garden so there were no food shortages in our family.

In fact l think we fed our neighbourhood throughout our childhood.  We also had chooks so there were plenty of fresh eggs to satisfy mum's need to bake lots of cakes.

Is it any wonder l look like a beachball and had issues with my weight as a child through into adulthood as do most of my sisters.

The following story illustrates this stricture of no wastage which many will remember - can any of you remember that phrase 'The starving kids overseas would appreciate all this food' we often offered to post parcels of left overs.

                                                   Always eat everything on your plate

My mum was a plain meat and three veg cook when we were little.  Dad grew the veggies, she cooked the meals.  We had chooks and rabbits a lot, these meats both easy to grab or trap.  Woe betide any one of us who refused to eat every scrap on our plates.

When mum returned to the work force dad cooked the odd meal.  One memorable evening meal still sticks in my throat.

Dad had grown big green string beans that year.  I took notice of these as there was an invasion of nasty soldier beetles swarming over the crop.  I am normally very interested in bugs but there were far too many of these beetles, and they horrified me.

The night dad cooked beans, spuds, carrots and burnt chops was a doozy.  In a rush to head off to the pub he neglected to string the beans before chopping them up and did his best to boil them to mushy oblivion. 

The rope-like strings held the beans together but were pretty much indigestible.  For some reason he loaded my plate with them and stood over me as l struggled to swallow them.  The other kids gulped their small portions down and scurried off leaving me to battle on alone.

In my mind l saw platoons of soldier beetles marching up and down the bean strings. It made the meal even more unappetising.  Dad threatened me with the strap – his thick heavy belt.  I cried till l was a sobbing, hiccupping mess.  He roared and ranted then in frustration put my plate in the fridge.

“Don’t think you’ll get away with this.  It’s beans for breakfast for you.”

When Mum returned from work she sussed out the situation and tasted the cold tough stringy mess.  “You can’t expect a child to eat this” she yelled throwing them onto the compost heap.

My reprieve was very unusual in our home where every plate had to be almost licked clean.  Mum had a special catch cry about left overs “children in China would be glad to have this” she’d roar.

“Let ‘em have it then” we replied, offering to package up the revolting burnt offerings and post them away to China after school. 

Meanwhile my aversion to beans prompted her to buy seasoned canned beans which were really nice.  I rather enjoyed this classy tucker.

Thankfully now l rather relish fresh green beans and always carefully remove their strings before adding them to stir-frys – which are lovely when the veggies are a little crunchy. 

Happily, years later, Mum started to watch a host of cooking programs and her meals became almost gourmet delights.  Her grandchildren reaped the benefit of her new skills when she visited my sisters in turn.

The “eat everything on your plate” advice – or threat – did have more adverse effects than a hatred of beans.  Most of my sisters and I all struggle with obesity – we’ve been programmed to love food too much.

The photo of a very strange parsnip was taken at a friend's place - Don was a great veggie grower too!