Recipe of the Month – September

Nasi Goreng

Ingredients:
Splash of Hillfarm Extra Virgin Cold-
Pressed Rapeseed Oil
1 finely chopped shallot
½ garlic clove, finely chopped
2 pinches caraway seeds
3 pinches of curry powder
(more depending on taste)
¼ tsp dried coriander or 1 tsp fresh
(if using fresh, add with the peas)
1 dstspn soy sauce
(tamari is a suitable alternative for GF)
225g cooked pork or chicken, diced
150g cooked long-grain rice
75g frozen peas, cooked
Omelette
1 egg
1 dstspn cold water
Salt and pepper to taste
15g butter
1 classic round tomato
Chutney of choice
(I prefer mango)
Method
Heat the oil and when hot, fry the shallot and garlic until soft and
beginning to brown. Stir in spices, seeds, herbs and soy sauce. Stir in
the diced pork or chicken. Add the rice. Finally, add the peas and fresh
coriander (if using) when meat and rice are heated.
For the omelette
Beat the egg and water lightly together. Season to taste with salt and
pepper. Put the butter in the frying pan. Heat until sizzling but not brown.
Pour in the beaten egg. After 5 seconds, tilt the pan so that the uncooked
egg flows to the edges. Cook for about a minute then remove from heat.
Slice the tomato and lightly grill.
Serving Suggestion
Cut the omelette into slices. Put the Nasi Goreng on a plate and garnish
with a lattice of omelette and tomato. Serve with chutney.

Cooking for One – a collection of recipes and stories written by the bereaved offering wisdom, insight, love and hope.

Cooking for One contains no platitudes about what a great healer time can be, it is a candid account of the raw pain and utter loneliness that grief can bring about. Those who have opened up about their grief have told it as it really is, not what they think people want to hear. They tell you what has helped and the lessons that they have learned along the way.

So, as well as containing delicious recipes, Cooking for One aims to serve as a personal handbook designed to help the bereaved navigate their personal pathway of grief. Despite people telling them that they ‘really ought to be getting over the worst of it by now’ – and however much they appear to be outwardly coping – perhaps the pain will never fully fade and nor would they wish it to.

Wendy’s Story

Will and I had known each other for over 30 years but had been together for 11 years when he died. My first husband died in 1995, after a long battle with cancer, when my children were nine and ten years old. I had been on my own for about 11 years, living on the farm, raising the children, running a holiday cottage and working part-time at school. A mutual friend brought Will and I together, initially with reluctance on my part, but after that first meeting, our incredible fun, soulmate relationship started there.

Both of us were independent and Will, especially, could turn his hand to anything and could do things incredibly well, but one of his loves was cooking; he was the main chef in the house. He was born and brought up in Trinidad and had an adventurous repertoire of recipes from different cultures.

Will was a healthy, lean and fit 67-year-old, skiing, playing golf regularly, always on the go, so we had no indication of what was going to happen and how quick it was all going to be. I think the speed of his demise put me into shock and made it very difficult to accept his death. When the numbness started to wear off, I fell into deep despair, as if I was in a deep black hole, clinging on but worried I was going to fall right in.

Eventually, I went to the doctors and for the first time in my life, I am on a low dose of antidepressants. My doctor calls them “anti-distressants”. They have not taken away the pain, the waves of sorrow, anger and tears, but have helped my brain and mouth to engage together!! They have enabled me to join groups and have counselling.

Will was playing golf and working a month before he died. One day, I found him phoning the doctor, which was unusual as he “doesn’t do doctors”, not having been for 25 years. He normally went straight to A&E having angle-grinded his knee or bench-sawn the top of his fingers! After results from a blood test revealed his liver was not working properly, he was sent to hospital for a scan which established the liver had secondary cancer, which was also in his lungs and legs. No obvious symptoms

Further tests including a biopsy of his liver put an end to any form of chemotherapy, just palliative care. We were told this on the Tuesday and that Will had weeks rather than months to live. He died five days later, a month from start to end.

We loved our kitchen; we spent most of our time there with family and friends, with plenty of laughter and high jinks, which was very Will. Never a dull moment! We also spent time together contentedly on our own. We created there, ate there, debated there, did the crossword there, caught up with each other’s news there. I can’t find the contentment there now; everything is a reminder of my loss. I know at some point, it will be a source of comfort, but at the moment, my loss is too raw. Will pretty much did all the cooking; I did the preparation and was the skivvy! We were a good team. He was very creative and when I was diagnosed with coeliac disease, nothing challenged him except for gluten-free Yorkshire puddings. Mark 1 was a disaster; Mark 2 tasted good but they were like clay pigeons that you shoot from a trap! He did perfect them in the end.

I do find it difficult to make the effort to cook for one. We loved our food and the fun was eating together. I tend to make a large dish of something and then freeze some of it, so I do not cook every day. You can either use leftover rice or cook it fresh. Thinking of this recipe, I enlisted my son, Rob, and Will’s son, Tom, to try to recreate the dish as Will had it all in his head. It has been therapeutic and brought laughter and tears to replicate it, hearing Will say, ‘No, that is not how you do it,’ and hearing his favourite phrase: ‘Just tell me if I am doing too much won’t you.’

I have learned that there is no right or wrong way to cope with bereavement. We are all individuals and deal with it in different ways. There is no timescale. Small steps. I have always been a positive person but having this happen twice, find it difficult to be so. One thing I have realised is to take up the offers of help when you can. I can be miserable and sad on my own or I can be with good friends, still sad but with elements of laughter and tears. It doesn’t mean you have to be out all the time. I know when I want to retreat and have the security of home.

I have chosen Nasi Goreng. It was Will’s speciality; originally his mother’s recipe, but adapted to his own taste and a good one for using up leftovers. We used any leftover meat or fish, but the favourite was leftover pork.

For information on Rosedale’s bereavement support group, please click here.