Fish custard

[emsk]

800km, three days, and one funeral later, I am home.

It was a nice funeral. The talk was split in reasonable parts between Nana’s life and religion. I’ll grant you that I felt weird – back in a church I’ve not stepped foot into since I left Mum’s home – but it was fine.

And all the family were welcoming. Which was the bit I’d been most concerned about. Friendly and chatty and … well, they acted like family.

I was fine through most of the service. Only really started crying when Nana’s life as a cook was mentioned, and I remembered the fish custard story.

She was cooking for a convention. Several hundred, if not a thousand, people to feed. (As part of a team, I mean.) She was tucked into a dark corner of the kitchen, making fish stew.

It needed thickening, so she added cornflour. Tasted. It didn’t taste … quite … right.

So she took the cornflour box into the light. And realised that no, this was actually custard powder.

After a little doctoring, they served it anyway. Apparently the fish custard was a big hit…