Hebridean Cookbook

 In the late '60's my father was posted to RAF Stornoway in the Western Isles/Outer Hebrides of Scotland.  .  We had previously spent three years in Hong Kong, followed by postings to Rutland and then the Wirral so we were quite used to packing up and moving to somewhere new.  The whole family moved - well, all except my older brother who remained at university in England.

I was 14 years old and happily settled at my all girls' school but the idea of moving to an island in the wilds of Scotland held a certain appeal.  The wilder the better, I thought.

Of course our new life was not quite as I had imagined.  

It was infinitely better, especially once we left the comfortable, but very ordinary,  rental in Stornoway and moved into a pretty basic croft house out in the country.  It would be fair to say that it was probably rather less wonderful for my parents, but I loved it. 

My younger brother attended the tiny school in the neighbouring village, up the hill.  Morning and afternoon I had a ten mile journey into Stornoway on a school service mini-bus.  It would be true to say I dislike almost everything about that school.  Several male teachers were more than happy to wield a thick and heavy tawse for even minor misdemeanours.  The French, French teacher was a demon for that.

Luckily, I loved living out in our tiny village of half a dozen crofts, helping (or more likely hindering) the old couple next door.   John and Marion very kindly allowed me to tag along as they tended their 'beasts'.  They kept a few head of cattle and a flock of sheep and they let me help with all the chores - milking, driving the cattle to the pasture, injecting or dipping the sheep.  Thrilling stuff.

The stove in our kitchen was fuelled by peat.  This had to be cut, dried, gathered in and then stacked in similar fashion to an old fashioned haystack.  The villagers introduced us to these chores and showed us which peat banks we could cut.  Jolly hard work but fun.

All these years later, whenever I consult the Hebridean Cookbook I am immediately transported back to the islands.  I bought the book years ago, mainly because I knew my mother would have loved it.  She was a big fan of Lillian Beckwith's books and had been since before we moved up to the islands.

Compared to the cookbooks of today, this is a very simple production, no big glossy food-porn photographs, just amusing illustrations of some island characters.  Each chapter begins with a little anecdote about Lillian Beckwith's experiences in her Hebridean home followed by recipes.

The Meat, Poultry and Game Section starts with the tale of 'Donald Bhan's Bad Cow, Recipes for'.  Apparently Donald's cow (dubbed 'bad' because of persistent fence-breaking) strayed too near the edge of a cliff and fell to its death.  The meat could not be wasted, so Donald and his friends decided to butcher the carcass and sell the meat to the islanders.  

Lillian Beckwith paid five shillings and ended up with over 30lbs of meat which she had to cook or preserve before it spoiled, electricity and refrigeration having not yet reached the islands.

Should you happen to have a brace of cormorants either hanging around, or buried in the traditional way, you could follow her instructions for Cormorant Casserole.  

As you would expect, there are lots of fish recipes - many mackerel recipes, or you could try Cod Liver Pie.  The very name makes me feel ill with past memories of that spoonful of that golden glistening horror which haunted my childhood.  Definitely not a recipe that I will be trying out.

There are cakes with amusing titles like 'Undressed Bride's Cake? Or you could try Zebra Pudding which, unlike the refined modern versions, calls for only four ingredients and is a substantial steamed pudding.  Meringues and souffles also feature, so something for everyone.

Part story book, part recipes, amusingly illustrated, the whole comes together and makes an entertaining read with some very useful recipes to boot.