MY LIFE IN FOOD: Actor and singer Alfie Boe By Tom Parker Bowles For You Magazine Published: 04:00 EDT, 2 November 2024 | Updated: 04:00 EDT, 2 November 2024 e-mail View comments My first food memory is of home – Blackpool – and my mother’s kitchen, where she cooked Lancashire hotpot, cakes and rice pudding. She was a great cook, and had nine children to feed, meaning lunch and tea were quite an event. We all chipped in and did our bit.
My sisters would peel the vegetables and my mother would soak the old-fashioned marrowfat peas overnight. There was music and wine and, on Sundays, a black and white film that we’d all watch. It was fun.
My father cooked too and did great breakfasts – serious fry-ups and wonderful porridge. But really it was my mother’s domain. She would tell us to get out of the kitchen and leave her in peace.
On Fridays, we’d go down to the shop with 10p and buy sweets, a quarter of this or that, in paper bags. The flying saucers with the sherbet in were my favourite. We always had to eat what was given.
My mum had worked hard in the kitchen to prepare a meal, so that was that. Now and then we had fish and chips from the local chippy on a Friday night. That was it, though.
No Indian or Chinese or pizza. We also had to try everything. My dad loved tripe and onions and it really was the worst thing.
The tripe was cooked in milk and became jellified. God, the stink. I can still smell it now.
These days I’m lucky enough to have my own catering on.
