Tips from the archives: Handling good china

"Always allow good china to cool after being washed in hot water and before stacking the pieces together. Prevents glaze from cracking."

The New Idea, 7 October 1959, p.44

The glazes used on everyday crockery now are a lot more durable than those from before our time, but reading this tip from the archives made me wonder whether there are some 'rules' that apply to putting china into the dishwasher today.

I checked our dishwasher manual, and it says that most modern china patterns are dishwasher safe. As most dishwashers operate with water heated to somewhere between 40 and 70 degrees C, modern crockery is designed to withstand the heating and cooling without damage. Heating the water to these levels helps to dissolve the stains and also disinfects the dishes.

However, the manual also states that antique items, hand-painted china, items with patterns painted over the glaze or ones with gold rims, may be more sensitive to machine washing, and that if there is any doubt to wash them by hand.

Interestingly, the manual also says not to empty the dishwasher immediately after washing. It recommends opening the door slightly to allow steam to escape and waiting until the dishes are warm to the touch before unloading.  In a  modern day update to today's tip from the archives, this is not to save the glaze from cracking, but to ensure that the dishes are dried properly.

Do you have any china-handling habits to share?

Do those cents really add up?

The Mof's One Year National Savings Service Badge.

When I was in primary school in the 1970s, the local Commonwealth Bank staff would visit the school regularly for children to deposit small amounts of money into their school savings accounts. These were interest-bearing deposit accounts which converted to regular bank accounts when the children left school. 'School Banking Day' was a long-standing tradition.

There is a excellent short filmclip at the Australian Screen website showing school children arriving at school in 1951 and giving their teacher small deposits of coins which he records in their bank books.

Before our time, the concept of regular bank savings was drummed into children from a young age, and it was not a phenomenon particular to Australia.

The Mof recalls that in Scotland:

The maxim of, "Look after the pence and the pounds will look after themselves," was drilled into us as children and we were encouraged to save whatever we earned or were given. Apart from the piggy bank, which could be rifled in desperation, one of the common ways to save was through the National Savings scheme.

The National Savings scheme was started in Britain during the First World War. The British Government introduced several ways to save as they needed both to reduce borrowings and raise funds for the war effort. The National Savings Movement, as it was originally called, grew from volunteers who organised Local Savings Committees and was launched at the Guildhall in London in 1916 with the intent to encourage British people to save and prosper.

Groups were formed in factories, shops, clubs and schools with an organiser collecting and recording the monies on a weekly basis. Savings took the form of savings stamps, certificates and bonds.

On a personal level I first encountered National Savings as it came to be known, as a student in primary school. Every Monday morning children arrived with their few pennies (the well off ones may have had a shilling!) to be collected and recorded by the teacher. On reaching a certain amount, which may have been 20 shillings (one
pound) or perhaps 21 shillings (a guinea) the child was given a savings certificate.

Later as a teacher I was on the collecting and recording side. Every year a district National Savings conference was held at a very swish hotel -- one I would never have been able to frequent as a humble teacher!

Service badges were awarded to the volunteer collectors. The one year badge was as far as I aspired, as I then married and came to Australia.

Nowadays we still encourage our children to save, but I suspect that the physicality of clutching coins in your sweaty hand on the way to school, handing them over and watching as the numbers recorded in your passbook grew each week is somewhat diluted by e-banking methods.

Although my husband and I insist that our daughters save some of their pocket money each week, it is transferred automatically via a direct debit to their account. It must be hard for them to imagine that the money even exists!

They do however, 'save up' their disposable pocket money in their purses for things they want to buy, and the youngest has started collecting every stray five cent piece she finds around the place and putting them into a container in the kitchen. It is surprising how many wayward five cents there are in this world! It's a slow process, but she now has a couple of dollars in the container. For her, this provides the joy that 1950s children may have had watching their bank deposits grow.

Does the electronic nature of banking today challenge children's concepts of long-term saving? Do school banking savings schemes still exist? How do you encourage children to save for the future?

Gather round the box

'Good evening and welcome to television.'
Bruce Gyngell, Sydney, 16 September 1956.

With those six words, the landscape of Australian lounge rooms changed forever.

In 1954, the Australian Government announced the introduction of a government-funded television broadcasting service and two commercial services in Sydney and Melbourne. The 1956 Summer Olympics (which were hosted in Melbourne) were fast-approaching and were a motivation to introduce television to Australia.

TCN-9 Sydney began test transmissions on 16 September of 1956 (with Bruce Gyngell's words above), and officially commenced broadcasting on 27 October. GTV-9 broadcast to Melbourne viewers on 27 September. By the 1956 Melbourne Summer Olympics opening ceremony on 22 November 1956, five stations in Melbourne and Sydney were operational.

It was 1959 before residents of Queensland, South Australia and Western Australia enjoyed the joys of television, with Tasmania following in 1960 and the Australian Capital Territory in 1962. The Northern Territory remained a TV-free zone until 1971.

By the end of 1956, it is estimated that only 1 per cent of Sydney residents and 5 per cent of Melbourne residents owned a television set. The cost of a television set was about six to ten weeks' pay for the average worker of the time.* However, over the following decades television rapidly became more popular and affordable.

Before our time, a home would contain just one television set in the lounge room and viewing of the television was a family affair. Shows such as Bandstand, Pick-a-Box and In Melbourne Tonight drew the family to the lounge room.

One of my own earliest memories is of watching Young Talent Time on a black and white TV with my parents when I was around three or four years old.

Nowadays, many homes have multiple television sets, and pay-TV options which offer niche channels to suit every taste at any time of day. Sport can be on in the lounge room, Disney Channel in the playroom, Lifestyle Channel in the sewing room. We are spoiled for choice, and have to the opportunity to exercise that choice at any time.

However, over the past few months I watched with interest the effect of the show Masterchef (Australia) on the viewing habits of family and friends. Here was a show that appealed to all age groups. It drew families together to watch amateur cooks invent dishes from set ingredients, concoct dishes from mystery boxes, attempt to replicate the signature dishes of Australia's top chefs and hone their tasting, plating and cooking skills in general.

It was good, clean family fun. There was none of the bitchiness of some reality shows. The judges were constructive and fair in their criticism. The contestants were retained or eliminated on the merits of their cooking by experts, rather than on the whims of an SMS-ing public caught-up in their personalities rather than their talent.

And the effect on family culture was phenomenal. Five year olds were discussing profiteroles in the playground. Smart-mouthed tweens were asking their parents as they prepared dinner, "Now Mum, what are you worried could go wrong?" Children were competing at the dinner table to identify the ingredients in that night's dinner. Adults were downloading recipes from the website and trying them out at home. Families started to call scraping up ingredients from the fridge to make dinner: "cooking with a mystery box".

Families have a shared language and conversation about this show that extends beyond the actual viewing time.

In my home, we were late to join the Masterchef bandwagon, but once we did we were hooked. There are a few TV shows that we watch together as a family, and what they seem to have in common is that a group of talented people compete to be the last one standing - e.g So You Think You Can Dance and Project Runway.

However, I know that this format doesn't appeal to all families.

What shows draw all the members of your household into the one room together?


* Source: http://www.cultureandrecreation.gov.au/articles/populartelevision/

Things my elders taught me: A Guiding Light

Today, we hand over to Before Our Time reader - The Mof- to share her memory of the skills she learnt as a Guide. If you would like to be added to the line-up to share what you learnt from your elders, email us on beforeourtime@bigpond.com - Megan and Alison.



Apart from parents and teachers the big influence on my young life was the Girl Guide Movement which was started in UK in 1910 by Agnes Baden-Powell, sister of Robert Baden-Powell who had started the Boy Scout movement three years earlier. Seeing their brothers having such adventures the girls were agitating to do the same but Robert Baden-Powell decided that the girls' movement should be organised differently and despite popular opinion of the day being that girls should not be in Guiding, the movement got off the ground.

The aims of Guiding were to foster physical fitness, survival skills, citizenship and outdoor activities such as camping.

In our the little village in Scotland a Guide company was started by our local doctor and her housekeeper when I was about 10 and I think I must have been first in line to join as there wasn't much extra curricular activity in country areas.

We were divided up into patrols and allowed to choose an emblem. As I was the leader of a patrol (in consultation with the rest of the patrol, of course) we decided to be Kingfisher patrol as I had long admired this colourful bird

Every week we had to turn up in clean uniform which consisted of a blue blouse which we were allowed to wear over warm tops in winter, light blue tie which doubled as a sling for first aid, a navy blue skirt and brown highly polished shoes. There was also the brass trefoil badge which had to be highly polished. All this in itself was a great lesson in discipline as we were inspected at the start of every meeting and there was extra pressure on the patrol leader to make sure her patrol was up to scratch.

Weekly we had to affirm the Guide promise:

"I promise on my Honour that I will do my best
to do my duty to God and the Queen
to help other people at all times
and to obey the Guide law"

We also had to promise to try to do a good turn every day.

The Mof and a Guiding friend.

In keeping with the aims of the movement the programme each week consisted of games for exercise, mental exercise of some sort, lessons in first aid, outdoor nature study and tracking and a time to work out things for personal growth.

We worked towards badges for areas we were personally interested in such as cooking, sewing,first aid, knitting or nature study.Each badge was sewn onto the outer sleeve of the blouse and so it was a big incentive to gain as many badges as possible! I distinctly remember doing the cooking badge. I was invited to the Leader's home where I had to cook the meal I had worked out beforehand and while it was cooking had to set the table beautifully and then present the meal which we sat down to. I had decided to make my mother's brown stew recipe with mashed potato followed by apple crumble but in the course of attending to the dessert I forgot about the stew and it stuck to the bottom of the pan and singed! The Leaders very politely ate it up and I was awarded the cooking badge!

Camp cooking was more my style and I loved the camps, cooking potatoes in the fire and toasting over the fire. We were taught to respect fire -- how to build a fire, make sure that it was enclosed in a stone circle and completely out and covered with soil before we left it.

Looking back it was a time of learning skills, discipline, socialising, lots of healthy competition and lots and lots of fun.




The Mof lives in a country town in Western Australia where she is involved with a variety of community groups. She has recently returned from a trip to Scotland revisiting all the haunts of her youth. She doesn't often burn brown stew anymore.

Were you a Scout or a Guide?

Things my elders taught me: knitting

Today, it's the turn of another Before Our Time reader - The Mof- to share her memory of a skill learnt from our elders (parents, grandparents, teachers, friends...). If you would like to be added to the line-up, email on beforeourtime@bigpond.com - Megan and Alison.

My mother was a beautiful knitter and always seemed to have something on the needles. I expect she had to with a family of eight children- and in cold Scotland!

I was keen to learn this art and I distinctly remember learning to knit from my mother at the age of four. I had blue needles and burgungy wool. It was a challenge as I was left handed but I cottoned on quickly and learned to knit right handed.

My Mother had a little poem to teach children knitting which went:

"In the little bunny hole (needle into the front of the stitch)
Round the big tree (wool round back needle)
Out through the bunny hole (pull the loop through with point of needle)
And off goes she" (slip the stitch onto right hand needle)

I have used this myself when teaching children.

In primary school there was a syllabus of knitting which started at age seven. An itinerant sewing and knitting teacher came round our group of country schools. I think it was once a month as it took all year to complete each project. We were not allowed to take the project home until the end of the year - I can see why as I would have had it finished in a couple of weeks!

At the age of seven (my third year at school) we had to knit a pot holder. It was made of four 6 inch squares folded in diagonally to the centre and stitched, then padded with old towelling. The teacher then crocheted round the outside and made a loop to hang it up. (We were never taught how to crochet at school.)

At age eight we made a scarf with two colours alternating, in garter stitch. Mine was emerald green and scarlet. (I hope my colour sense has improved! )

At age nine it was time to learn purl (but of course with my early start I was well versed in that!) and we had to make mittens.

Age ten it was into socks, learning to turn a heel and graft the toe.

So by the age of eleven I was knitting cardigans and jumpers not only for myself but also for my little brothers.

The Mof, aged 10, wearing a cardigan she knitted herself.

It was dark brown in colour and had an all over pattern

of alternating plain and purl stitches making a raised texture.

I will be forever grateful that my mother was a knitter and had the patience and willingness to teach me the skill as, like her, I always have something on the needles even if it is just using up oddments for squares for charity blankets.

Arriving in outback Australia in the 1960s as a new bride was a culture-shock of a grand scale for a Scottish country lass, but The Mof took it all in her stride. She lives in a country town in Western Australia where she is involved with a variety of community groups. She loves to read blogs, but doesn't have one of her own (yet) and she hasn’t owned a dishwasher for nine years.

Things my elders taught me: sewing

Today, we're pleased to hand-over the reins of the blog to one of our Before Our Time readers - Auntie 4 Letter - in what we hope is the first of a series of posts on the wisdom and skills we've learnt from our elders (parents, grandparents, teachers, friends...). We're sure each of you has something you could share with us. Please email on beforeourtime@bigpond.com to be added to the schedule! - Megan and Alison.


Many people and events have influenced me over the years but one who really stands out for giving me a life skill and a love that I still use today is the lady who gave me my first sewing tips.

Around the age of 12 or 13 our school introduced a summer dress and since my parents were sending three of us into private school in Edinburgh to be educated I was told that if I wished one, I had to make it myself.

Off we went to purchase the pattern and the material required and home we came to study how to put this into action. Our sewing machine was an old Singer treadle machine which, fortunately for me, also had a handle as all I could make it do was go backwards! I could never master the action to get that forward movement, yet Mum had no difficulties.

Having read and reread the instructions, the dining room table was extended and the fabric laid out ready for action. The size was chosen, cut out, and the pattern placed on the fabric and I stood back to look at my achievement having no idea if I had done this correctly or not. I wasn’t game to put scissors to fabric!

Visitors arrived that afternoon –Esme, a family friend must have known I needed her. When she saw what I was doing she immediately offered her friendly advice. She quickly pointed out a few basic things that I had read about but did not realise how important they were:

• Fabric – fold in half lengthwise, pull diagonally if slightly off the square and refold


• Grain line – measure from grain line to edge of fabric - this assures the garment will hang straight


• Place all pieces in the same direction, if possible, but close together


• Pin at regular intervals


• Place hand flat on pattern piece when cutting out


• Do not move fabric when cutting, move yourself around the table


• Don’t ignore the notches, snip or notch out, as these help you put it together


• Mark all dots and darts with threads to help in the making
  

I was then left to it but told to contact her if any more help was needed. The dress was sewn together and, believe it or not, able to be worn to school. The seed had been sewn and from then on many shopping sprees to the fabric shop in Edinburgh were duly undertaken.

During high school, I was taught sewing. We were lucky enough to be taught all the basics - attaching collars and waistbands, setting in sleeves, sewing on buttons and making button holes etc. While attending teacher training college I was introduced to tailoring and so the solid foundations were laid.

When I look back now at some of the creations I made in the early years I shudder to think what I looked like sometimes when I walked out the house. The creation with smocking across the bust...! The straight skirt that was pretty tight and made of fabric out of the cupboard which nearly fell apart as I wore it as the material was so old...!

Then again there are some dresses I have made in later years I am quite proud of!

One of Auntie 4-Letter's proudest creations - a bridal gown,

as modelled by her niece-in-law, Goto, on her wedding day.

Over the years I have made many things using a variety of fabrics and even took myself off to TAFE to learn how to tailor and pattern draft. There I picked up invaluable evening wear tips. This was a very interesting experience and allowed me to perfect a great many of my skills.

Thank you Esme for the encouragement and knowledge you gave me early on which has led to a great deal of joy and frustration throughout my life.

There’s nothing Auntie 4 Letter can’t make with a sewing machine. She lives in Perth, Western Australia and tailors fine evening wear and bridal gowns, as well as running a school uniform shop. If she had a blog, we'd link to it...but she's only just mastered a Blogger log-on ID. She prefers washing up to drying.

Boiled eggs and spam

Spam (n): unsolicited marketing e-mail communication distributed to a large number of e-mail addresses.

There was once a time when the word 'Spam' had little to do with e-mail and the Internet. Spam was instead just the brand name of a canned precooked meat product made by the Hormel Foods Corporation.

Spam belongs to a range of canned meats (including Hamper's Camp Pie and Bully Beef) that have the reputation of sustaining generations from the Great Depression right through the Second World War and the post-war rationing and are still consumed the world over today.

In fact, Spam is often credited with 'winning the war' as it was part of the ration-packs for American GIs and Allied forces during World War II.

Spam is made of a few simple ingredients: ham, pork, sugar, salt, water, a little potato starch, and some sodium nitrite (which helps to keep the pink colour - without it Spam would be grey).

Spam was first created in 1937, and since then over 6 billion cans of it have been sold world-wide. The Spam we get on the supermarket shelves here in Australia is canned in factories in the USA. There are also factories in Denmark, the Philippines and South Korea.

I've always shied away from even the idea of Spam. I treat any food that claims to be able to last forever with a little suspicion.

Information on the Hormel Foods Spam website suggests that, "As long as no air gets into the can, the vacuum sealed goodness inside will be as delicious and safe as the day it was made. It’s like meat with a pause button."

But, I know that before our time, many, many people grew up eating and enjoying Spam, so I set myself the task of trying it out.

When I mentioned my plans to other people, their reactions fell into two camps:

a) EEeeeeewww. Why would you want to eat that? (anyone younger than about 50)

b) Oh! Spam! That takes me right back. We used to have it... [insert description of how it was served in their homes]

My Dad had particularly enthusiastic memories of how Spam was eaten in his family home in Scotland in the 1950s, and talked me through recreating the experience.

The Spam was sliced finely.

And was served with a fresh garden salad consisting of lettuce, sliced tomato and boiled eggs with mayonnaise on the side. In his family's case, the lettuce and the eggs were home-grown.

A friend popped in while I was in the process of serving up the Spam.

"No, no." he declared. "You need to fry the Spam. That's the way we always had it."

So I ventured both ways.

The end result was certainly palatable, not nearly as bad as I had feared - although I think I preferred the fried option to the fresh.

Dad recalled that Spam and salad was served as a quick summer meal in his home, and I can see that with some cans of Spam in the cupboard and a small vegetable garden, you could easily whip up a reasonably nutritious meal in minutes.

During the Second World War, and into the post-war period in Britain when fresh meat was difficult to come by, canned meats definitely had their place. By canning meats in countries that had greater supplies, a valuable source of protein and nutrition could be transported huge distances with no need for refrigeration. There was also no need for the meat to be refrigerated in the shops, or the home.

I, like many others of my generation however, have been fortunate enough to grow up with ready access to fresh supplies of most foods...and I take refrigeration for granted. We therefore see items such as canned meats to be more of a 'camping' source of food - the type of supply you would take if you went outback with no power sources.

I can't say that canned meats will be appearing regularly on my dinner table, but they could. It wouldn't be the end of the world.

What is your experience of Spam?

Going the whole hogmanay

Following on from your interest in Halloween Scots-style, I've turned my attention to one of the most significant of the Scottish celebrations - Hogmanay (or New Year's Eve) and once again I consulted my in-house experts on Scottish culture before our time, my Mum and my Aunt. For good measure, my (soon-to-be) 99 year old grandmother added her memories.

My Mum recalled:

When we were young Christmas day was not a holiday in Scotland as the Scots wanted their one day off to be New Year's Day - the day after Hogmanay (New Year's Eve). The house was thoroughly cleaned on Hogmanay - no self respecting Scot would go into a new year with dirt from the old year lurking around! Shortbread tins would be full, black bun was at the ready (black bun is a heavy fruit cake encased in a shortcrust pastry) and the whisky cupboard was well stocked!

Before midnight the floor would be swept again to make sure no dirt went into the new year and the ashes from the fire taken out and disposed of.

After the stroke of midnight the men of the house gathered up their 'gifts': shortbread and perhaps a couple of kippers to ensure that the houses they went to would always have food in the coming year, a lump of coal to put on the fire - for warmth in the coming year and a bottle of whisky to pour ' a wee dram' for good luck in the coming year. The first man over the doorstep on New Year's Day was known as 'the first fit (foot)' and everyone wished to have a tall dark and handsome man as they brought the most luck to the house.

New Year's Day dinner was similar to what we now have at Christmas.

Together, my Aunt and Gran reminisced:

On the 31st of December, the house was cleaned. Beds were changed, all the washing and ironing was done and shortbread and blackbun were baked. Just before midnight we would check again that everything was clean, the dishes were all done and the place was tidy. Moments before midnight, your Grampa would take out the ashes from the grate below the open fire.

At the stroke of midnight, we would wish everyone present a “Happy New Year” with hugs, kisses and shaking of hands. Your Grampa would pour everyone a drink , traditionally this was whisky but other drinks were given if preferred and shortbread and blackbun would be eaten while everyone would drink to the New Year.

First Footing was done just after midnight to neighbours and friends to wish them “A Guid New Year”. To go “first footing” you took whisky, a piece of coal, a coin and some shortbread or blackbun with you to give the household you were visiting wealth, warmth, nourishment and happiness for the next twelve months. You always knocked on the door, even if you knew them well, so that you were invited in. The darkest haired person entered first as this was thought to bring good luck to the household and you handed over your gifts and had a drink with everyone present.

On New Year's Day, the whole family would gather at the parents’ house for lunch. Anyone visiting would, of course, bring the first footing items with them, and as each group arrived the darkest headed always entered first. You always knocked on the door on these occasions, even if it was your family home, and waited to be invited in!

Traditionally in our house we always had roast goose or duck on New Year's Day with all the trimmings.

I'm not so sure about all this cleaning on New Year's Eve - although I can see the reasoning behind it. If the house at least starts the year clean and tidy, there is some hope of that continuing into the New Year!

A tradition I'm more than happy to maintain in our own household however, is the baking of shortbread. As far as I'm concerned, the festive season is not complete until I've consumed at least a bit of homebaked Scottish shortbread.

There are a number of variation on shortbread recipes. I use a simple recipe which has been the standard in our family since well before my time.
The recipe makes four large rounds, which are shaped by hand, marked with a fork and scored by knife (ready to be broken into wedges when cooked).



They come out of the oven when they are golden and full of buttery promise and are sprinkled with caster sugar while they are still hot.

With a cupboard full of these, how could it fail to be a good New Year?

Wishing you all wealth, warmth, nourishment and happiness for 2009. May the year be full of coins, coal, kippers and whiskey.

(And just a little shortbread too.)

Scottish Shortbread

250g caster sugar

500g butter

750g plain flour

• Leave butter out to soften a little, then beat (I use an elecric mixer) with sugar until light and creamy.
• Add half of the flour and beat in.
• Remove from mixer, and add remainder of flour with a wooden spoon.
• Knead the mixture on a floured board until smooth.
• Shape into rounds and place on a baking tray lined with baking paper. Thumb press the edges, prick with a fork, and score into eighths.
• Bake cakes for up to an hour in a pre-heated 160C oven - watch until they are golden brown.
• Remove from oven and while still warm, sprinkle with caster sugar.
• When completely cool, store in an airtight container.

Halloween Scots-style

Here in Australia, we think of Halloween as being mainly a North American tradition. However, it actually had its origins in the Celtic culture over two thousand years ago. It was known then as the Samhain festival, and was a day on which the Celts believed that the souls of the dead and/or evil spirits could visit the living world and wreak havoc.

Eventually, the Catholic church made 1st November All Saints Day (possibly in an attempt to curb the Pagan Samhain festival) and the day before it became known as Halloween - the eve before All Hallows or All Saints Day.

As a Scottish-Australian, only one generation removed from the land of tartan, it is my Celtic duty to examine the Scottish Halloween traditions that date from before our time.

And who better to consult on these traditions than my own personal experts on Scottish culture, my Mum and my Aunt? These ladies were children in Scotland in the 1950s and I asked them what they remembered of Halloween traditions.

My Mum, who grew up in a small farming village in the South of Scotland said:

When we were young we used to carve out a swede turnip (they were the size of footballs). We would hollow out the stalk for the chimney. A candle was fixed in the bottom, a wire handle attached and we carried it out with us. The stink of hot turnip was unbelievable.

The end of October was very cold to be out walking at night but we never seemed to mind that. We went round the village dressed as witches, ghosts etc and received apples and homemade treacle toffee and fudge. The clever mums would make toffee apples--- and the occasional rich farmer would give us a shilling.

Most households would make the toffee and fudge in the days before the 31st. One year my mother had made all the toffee and put it on the cold floor behind the kitchen door to cool off and set. One of my brothers came in the back door and without looking stripped off his dung-laden wellies and tossed them behind the door. Imagine my mother's horror when she went to get the toffee and found the wellies sitting nicely in it! It was panic that year to get more made so that the children wouldn’t be disappointed.

If someone had a Halloween party, we would play games such as dooking for apples, or eating treacle-covered scones hanging from a string.

My Aunt recalled:

We carved turnips not pumpkins for lanterns and as you made the design you were careful to leave a thin layer of neep for the candle to shine through, not actual holes!

‘Guising’ was done from house to house and you tried to make yourself unrecognizable. You only went to houses where you were known and in order to gain a treat you had to entertain the household in some way.

I wouldn’t be taking my research seriously, if I didn’t at least attempt to carve a swede, but there’s a couple of problems with this:
a) swedes in Australia are around the size of a cricket ball, not a football, and
b) swedes are not currently in season here, being a cool-season vegetable.

However, in the interests of accurate experimentation I did it.

Before Our Time is about revisiting the wisdom of the past and evaluating its application to today’s life. So I have concluded that we would be better in Australia to start a tradition of carving Halloween lanterns out of an item which is large like a pumpkin, and readily available in October.

Ta-da!

Halloween melon lanterns.

A Scottish tradition that is a keeper, I think, is the fudge (or tablet) making for Halloween. My Mum sent through a recipe from The Home Book Of Scottish Cookery by Aileen King and Fiona Dunnett (1967) which I whipped up to send in to my daughter’s class at school.

The ingredients were just water, sugar, condensed milk, butter and vanilla essence. Torture on the teeth and the hips, but oh-so-delicious! (edit: see below for my version of the recipe.)

I wrapped it into individual serves with a spider sticker on each one.

If you know any Scottish bloggers, send them this way so we can get a more up-to-date analysis of Halloween Scots-style.

Happy Halloween! What traditions do you have for this day in your part of the world?

(Edited to add the recipe!)

Scottish Tablet or Fudge
500g white sugar
150ml hot water
60g butter
1 small tin condensed milk
1tsp vanilla essence

Add sugar to water in a saucepan over low heat. Stir until dissolved. Add condensed milk and heat, gently stirring all the time. When combined, add the butter in small lumps. Stir while waiting for each to totally melt before adding the next. Turn the heat right up and bring to the boil. Boil rapidly for around 5-7 mins until the mixture forms a soft ball when dropped into cold water. Remove from heat and allow bubbles to subside. Add vanilla essence and beat until creamy and thick. Pour into a lined 22cm x 30cm tin and refrigerate. Cut into squares when set.

Edited 11 Nov: It seems some people are having trouble getting the fudge to set. I'm no fudge expert, so I really don't know what is going wrong! I boiled mine really rapidly for the full 7 minutes, and it did start to turn streaky with a darker colour at that point - if that helps!