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Catherine's Kitchen

Catherine Manning

The Folly

In one of my previous columns, I made mention of the police being called on three Sundays running because of incidents that we children had created. We children ranged between the ages of seven and three years. It boggles the mind how we got away with what we did with no casualties.

As usual, the incident I am about to relate happened when my father was out fishing. The overseer was sleeping off his Sunday drunk, our nanny was sleeping, we were supposed to be sleeping, and my mother, who was pregnant with number five, had gone down to our beach house to relax and wait for my father to come home. The family home was large and no doors were ever locked, except perhaps at night, so we had a freedom probably never experienced by other children. This freedom was supposed to be curtailed by the fact that we were 'watched'!

My father, who smoked, kept his carton of Trumpeters and a carton of matches on top of the bookcase in the entrance hall, a bookcase high enough that we had to climb on a chair to reach them. On this particular Sunday, as I said, my mother had left us with the sleeping nanny. I (aged 5), my eldest brother (7), and my younger brother (3) absconded with a pack of Trumpeters and matches to go and have 'a smoke', something which none of us had done before.

Our major mistake was to light up outside the cow pen in the bottom yard over a pile of dry grass. Why we picked there is beyond me, but the inevitable happened. The match dropped and stayed lit and the rest is history. The boys tried to put it out the natural way but that wasn't enough! We ran and hid, but the police, fire brigade and neighbouring posse found us and incarcerated us in the guest room for what seemed like forever. Finally, my father came home, having heard about the fire on his way home. Chaos reigned as he walked into the house. Everyone was shouting about these bad children and what we had done. All I remember was one almighty shout from him for everyone who didn't belong there to get out of his house and then there was quiet. Then he came upstairs and liberated us. The only statement the police or the fire brigade got was, "It was my cow pen and my children who burned it down." Nevertheless, it took a long time for us to live that down or the other incidents that followed, although I think that was the worst.

Our beach house was called "The Folly" because of the way it was built, but we loved it and were very upset when it was sold. Today it is an up-market restaurant. The house was built out of coral stone, which is what Barbados consists of, and had no doors except on the two bedrooms, the kitchen and the bathroom. It was almost circular except for the straight lines of the exterior and interior bedroom walls. The dining table was a semi-circle of concrete on a pedestal with concrete benches and cushions. Scattered around the rest of the house were concrete benches with cushions. Security was nil as, at that time, there was no need. I wish it were so today. Everyone slept where they wanted on benches or cots, which were folded up and put away in the day. Maintenance was low on the house. My father anchored our boat, "Me Too," offshore. There was a boathouse next to "The Folly" where he would haul the boat up for repairs during the hurricane season. I would sometimes be taken to my ballet classes by sea on a Saturday morning, as they were held at the Aquatic Club which was offshore and connected to land by a jetty. I much preferred being on the boat to going to ballet and the lessons died a natural death after a few years. The final clue about my lack of enthusiasm for ballet came when I took the five shilling fee and spent it in the gift shop. My mother realized that my ballerina days were over.

The beach was perfect for coal potting, the earlier version of today's barbeques. We had a never-ending supply of fresh fish. One of my favourites is still barbequed Mahi Mahi, but now I make my own marinade and leave the fish to marinate for several hours.

I use this for as a salad dressing as well. It's good with the fish and keeps it moist.

CHICKEN

I had a brick barbeque outside with a rotisserie for chicken, which was used regularly. As it was quite a large barbeque, we used shingles instead of coals. There was a plentiful supply when house roofs were replaced and they burned well. As chicken burns on a barbeque before it cooks, I recommend precooking it as I outlined in my Roast Garlic Chicken (May 2000 column).

That's all for now! I am currently experimenting with Preserved Melon Rind as we have the sweetest seedless watermelons at the moment. I decided that, rather than throw away the rind, I would try this. If it comes out, I'll let you know.

Bon Appetit
Cath