jelly.

I asked my mum if we had ever cooked anything together. After an extended period of silence, she decided we must have cooked something. After failing to come up with anything, I left her with a glum look on her face. A few minutes later I hear her yell "JELLY! WE HAVE MADE JELLY TOGETHER!" Erm Mum, I hate to break it to you but that's not cooking. That's opening a packet and boiling a kettle, to which she replied, "Yes. And that's cooking! And we did it together!" This is what I'm up against. 

My mother does not cook. Well, she claims she cooks but she is yet to find anyone who will agree with her that stabbing an M&S ready meal and putting it in the microwave constitutes cooking. 

It has been like this for as long as I can remember. 

In July she retired from a "full time professional career" (her words, not mine. She was a teacher, this was her excuse for not cooking) and she has vowed to cook once a month. July and August were her summer holidays so they couldn't count, and September was her birthday and retirement month, so no cooking there either. But from October, she has remained true to her word and has cooked a meal once a month. She has bought many foods she has never bought before including a leek, garlic and herbs, (two out of those three never to be bought again due to the godawful smell they left in the house). 

I asked her what her favourite meal to cook was and this was her response:

(please forgive the outfit she is wearing, it was bought as a joke but sadly she actually likes it and insists on wearing it around the house as her "Lucy Couture" tracksuit). (Also note we haven't used Lucy Couture as an ironic name, she genuinely thinks that's what Juicy Couture is called).

Perusing the internet, I found countless sites for "family cooking" or "cooking with mother." There's even a band called Limmie & the Family Cooking. Personalities such as Martha Stewart and Jane Asher have promoted family cooking in countless books and television shows. 

I remembered Jacquline Wilson books having scenes of mothers and daughters cooking together. I found that in "Sleep-Overs," the protagonist, Daisy, cooks her birthday cake with her mum: 

"Mum let me stir the mixture and spoon it out into the cake tin. She let me scrape the mixing bowl with the spoon (and then my finger and then my tongue!). We made white chocolate crunch biscuits while the cake was cooling and then we did the decorating."

From this extract it is clear that for Daisy, cooking with her mum is a privilege, something that is probably felt by many children. Daisy's mother has let her into her kitchen, the magical place where Daisy feels lucky to be helping. 

Sadly, my mum's kitchen is not like that. We did not bake my birthday cakes together. In fact, I baked mine by myself.

  

My 10th birthday. It was supposed to be a dinosaur from a kids cookery book. I thought it was a pretty good effort.

Lots of Jaqueline Wilson's stories have children cooking by themselves, standing in for their mothers. Elsa in "The Bed and Breakfast Star" is a prime example.

"Mum was asleep and Mack was out...I hunted round the room for food and found some stale sliced bread and a pot of raspberry jam...I made a clown jam sandwich for Hank. I made a teddy jam sandwich for Pippa and Baby Pillow. And I made a great red movie-star lip jam sandwich for me."

Wilson explores the problems of children having to cook for themselves when their mothers are incapable due to hangovers or staying with boyfriends. My mother was not incapable, she just really hated cooking. 

Don't get me wrong, I never went hungry. In fact, if anything I ate a bit too much (potentially daily after school trips to the sweet shop followed by an apple coated in sugar and a warm milk with sugar were to blame?). But clearly, from the amount of literature out there about family cooking and mothers cooking with their children, I can't help but wonder, did I miss out?

After showing this to my mum, she felt guilty, so we're going to make another jelly together tomorrow.