CUISINE-IN-LAW

By Holly McPherson

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I look at my partner sitting across the table and think how lucky I am. Not because he’s smart, funny and sweet. Because we’re at his yiayia’s house and I’ve just had some of the best barbecue I’ve ever eaten.

We arrived to find Eva behind a cloud of smoke at the barbecue, the smell of charred meat filling the backyard. I tried to refuse the chop she proffered, fresh off the coal, but it was pointless. The lamb was pushed into my hands and I took a bite. It was crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, and somehow flavoursome, complex, and perfectly simple all at once.

Half an hour later we’re seated at the kitchen table with piles of food in front of us. I wonder if we’ll even make a dent in the mounds, but Ben’s family – parents, sister, cousin, aunty and, of course, the matriarch Eva – give it a damn decent crack. Any time I betray signs of slowing down, my plate is topped up with reinforcements, alongside admonishments that I’m trying to be polite because I haven’t taken a fifth helping.

Nevertheless, we all leave with containers to keep us fed for a week. Pork belly, sausages (hot and mild), and the crown jewels: the aforementioned lamb chops.

Dating a half Greek, half Italian man is one of the best things to have ever happened to my mouth (get your mind out of the gutter). Every time I go to his parents’, nonna’s or yiayia’s for lunch or dinner, I’m almost moved to tears. I never knew souvlaki, or chicken soup, or simple roast potatoes could taste that good. And for them it’s a meal like any other.

Ben’s mum and dad, both children of immigrants, grew up on their parents’ cooking, a blend of tradition from their birth countries and experimentation since moving to Australia. Knowledge and traditions passed down through family generations travelled across the ocean to continue to be passed on here in Melbourne. These traditions live on in Ben, who makes napolitana sauce like his dad taught him and chicken schnitzel the way his mum cooks it. Another win for me, a serial cereal-for-every-meal offender.

I adore my parents and the childhood they gave me, but I must admit it was somewhat lacking in the food department. Think your typical skip cuisine: roast lamb with boiled peas, potatoes, powdered gravy and not a hint of seasoning barring salt and pepper; attempts at rogan josh that I’m sure are illegal in India; Old El Paso taco kits (mild of course), which have remained a staple in my woefully limited dinner repertoire. I went most of my life thinking I didn’t like spaghetti bolognaise. Turns out I like it if the pasta sauce doesn’t come out of a jar from the supermarket.

Hands-down the best recipe in the McPherson family inventory is a yellow curry passed down from my Thai aunty. (Unfortunately for my spice tolerance, she’s lived in Thailand my whole life and was not able to exert much influence over my culinary upbringing. I faced much embarrassment when I stayed with her last year and sweated through the mildest meals we ate.) There’s just no denying that a rich culture breeds rich – and delicious – food traditions. How lucky are we, my fellow cultureless swine of Melbourne, to have access to so many incredible cuisines, dishes brought by people from cultures around the world to this city to live on, evolve and be shared here? Through these people that Melbourne owes its foodie reputation to, we’re able to taste a slice of lives and cultures vastly different to our own, brought together by the human need to eat and the human want to eat good food.

I may not be able to undo the years of culinary damage a flavourless childhood has inflicted on my palate – I unfortunately still believe that there’s no greater delicacy than custard. I can, however, immerse myself in the wealth of cuisines and food traditions I’m lucky enough to be surrounded by. Mediterranean boyfriend optional (but handy).

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