Weekends/Marina chores experiences

It’s the weekend again, chores to be done, lunch to be cook and what’s for dinner still to be decided. Yeah right, that was way back when, not now a days, chores are done whenever lunch is definitely not cooking and dinner don’t exist.   As I hunger for the days gone by minus the weekend chores the moments cherish as I wish it was only yesterday. As I watched my sister supervised my nieces do their occasional chores, it reminded me of us growing up but just without the direct supervision. It was chores first, then breakfast, the shower with shampooing of our hair, probably a little cartoon providing we finish on time to see any, then homework if there was an excess that wasn’t done on the Friday. As for lunch, the Saturday lunch was seasonal as they change after a long period of time. In my early years as far back as I can remember it was soup Saturday’s then there was macaroni & cheese Saturday’s and when it was my turn to learn how to cook there was the corn beef & rice Saturday’s. Ooo and sometimes I did it with potatoesJ. To think nowadays I can’t stand the smell of corn beef furthermore to actually eat it. Yuk!

One of the best parts of the weekends’ was the Saturday night dinner. Yum yum, yum! I could smell it right now, the Saturday night dinner, beef pies, the arepas, hot dog rolls and mummy’s favourite pastry, the caramel curl just to name a few. She would have normally made at least two but nothing less than a dozen of each. Unlike when it came to pizza night she would make four big pizzas, which could never seem be enough. Or did she just to give the majority away, am not sure. Sigh! The pleasure of Saturday evening’s dinner, each time there was something different to look forward too. The joy and thrills of being a kid in my house, when she wasn’t  making dinner at home, she would be making it at baking classes bringing it home for us.

A part from the thrills of food on the Saturday’s that was the one time we were allowed to stay up kind of late. Yip, so that would be our movie night as we prep some of the things for Sunday lunch the next day. Sigh! Night chores! It was either a case of take it or leave it; we didn’t have any bargaining options there.  Ahh, Sunday lunch, but before we could get to Sunday lunch we had to go to Sunday school with the neighbor. Yep good old Sunday school, it became religious as at first it was a sometime thing. As my sister got older she was introduce to a Pentecostal church but I can’t remember by whom but I had to go there too. So gradually I was going Sunday school in two places but it got better, a neighbor around the corner started having afternoon Sunday school. Yip! Sunday school three times on a Sunday wow! At least I did get to enjoy the Sunday meals before running off again, I think. When we did arrive back home, we had a few hours literally before organizing for school the next day because after the news it was bed time 7:30/8:00pm sharp. That rounds off our typical weekend growing up providing we didn’t have to go out, yeah that just made it worst, same routine with less time.

What your weekends were like growing up as a child?

Going out the Saturday evening

After Saturday morning chores

One of many Saturday's night dinner

Sunday lunch

Going to church with the neighbors 

Going to church with big sis

What's yours?

Marina's Chores experiences 

I remember my first cut which and I panic when I saw the blood. I had lot of challenges where I at some point I would burn food. For instance, I burnt, rice, red beans and I would find it taste good. However, my mom and aunt would guide me along the way of what I did wrong. I remembered continuous practice I use to do in the kitchen such as chopping vegetables and meat. I always watched cooking shows to help me. Wendy Rahamut “Caribbean Flavours”, I use to enjoy that show. Take notes and try to make the dishes. I use to get talks from my parents because I would make a mess. At some point my grandfather punished me for leaving a cloth near the fire and it was burning. He banded me from the kitchen for a week which I was vexed. I never had gotten so unsettled to cook in the kitchen. That was how passionate I was.

I remembered the pressure I went through and wanted to give up on cooking and art. At some point in my life I did stop at the age of 14 years until I kept hearing the words of my grandfather don’t give up. Then I started pushing myself to accomplish in learning more in cooking and art.

Every day I could see the scar on my foot reminding me of the time I was helping my mom making roti and the hot oil fell on my right foot. Coco butter has removed it. I remember burin my middle finger in hot oil, I was helping my mother fry pies and I just lose my focus by gazing. I just felt a heat in my hand and when caught myself, I was burning my hand I the hot oil.  How clumsy was I. I did get ‘the talk’ from my mom. My finger swollen big and red. I learnt to always focus in the while cooking. My scars which fade away now but they have made me realize the progress I made in the kitchen.  It is through trial and error, I learnt.

My advice to people who do not know how to cook and want to start or just do not like to cook, understand cooking is an  art and you can b creative I many different ways. Another advice, to learn and cook there are alt of trials and errors, cuts and burns just like my childhood memories but just PRACTICE.