Growing up in the 50's and 60's in New Zealand

[nztimb]

I Remember when dinner might be a mutton chop, boiled shoulder or cold meat from the weekend leg of mutton roast, a dollop of mashed potato, some bendy carrots, peas and a mound of well-boiled cabbage?
Better eat up, otherwise pudding would be held to ransom. Luckily we had the Sunday roast with roast spuds, mint sauce and gravy to look forward to.
When I was growing up, "kebab" wasn’t even a word. Chilli was a country somewhere in South America. Curry was an unknown entity and Indian restaurants were only found in India.
Take-away was arithmetic, unless it was fish and chips. Pizza was something to do with a leaning tower. Oil was for lubricating your bike chain, not for cooking.
Potato crisps were all one flavour - salty. Coke was put on the fire; we never drank it and we certainly didn’t snort it.
Rice was only ever a milk pudding until someone invented Rice Risotto in a cardboard box.
A microwave wasn’t a tiny ripple in a puddle; it was science fiction.
Tea was made in a teapot and came in one flavour – tea. Mayonnaise was made with condensed milk, mustard and vinegar and called salad dressing. For your Iceberg lettuce. The one and only.
Bottled sauce was either tomato or Worcestershire. The only frozen food was ice cream. Yoghurt – what the heck was that?
Brunch wasn‘t a meal, and cheese only ever came in a hard lump.
Eating outside was called a picnic, not al fresco. Eating raw fish was called crazy, not sushi. We’d eat lambs tongues, but wouldn’t have eaten seaweed in a pink fit, and eggs were not called ‘free range’ - they were just eggs.
Milk and cream came in the same bottle, before you gave it a shake. Prunes were “good for you” medicine. Garlic was used to ward off vampires in films, but never to be eaten.
Clean, drinkable water was free, straight out of the tap; if someone had suggested bottling and charging for it, who’d be silly enough to buy it?

Edited lightly to better reflect our Southern home.

 

[R eight]

Sounds just like Queensland in the 50’s and 60’s. Except we substituted mutton for beef.

 

[Wishfulthinker580]

I Remember when dinner might be a mutton chop, boiled shoulder or cold meat from the weekend leg of mutton roast, a dollop of mashed potato, some bendy carrots, peas and a mound of well-boiled cabbage?
Better eat up, otherwise pudding would be held to ransom. Luckily we had the Sunday roast with roast spuds, mint sauce and gravy to look forward to.
When I was growing up, "kebab" wasn’t even a word. Chilli was a country somewhere in South America. Curry was an unknown entity and Indian restaurants were only found in India.
Take-away was arithmetic, unless it was fish and chips. Pizza was something to do with a leaning tower. Oil was for lubricating your bike chain, not for cooking.
Potato crisps were all one flavour - salty. Coke was put on the fire; we never drank it and we certainly didn’t snort it.
Rice was only ever a milk pudding until someone invented Rice Risotto in a cardboard box.
A microwave wasn’t a tiny ripple in a puddle; it was science fiction.
Tea was made in a teapot and came in one flavour – tea. Mayonnaise was made with condensed milk, mustard and vinegar and called salad dressing. For your Iceberg lettuce. The one and only.
Bottled sauce was either tomato or Worcestershire. The only frozen food was ice cream. Yoghurt – what the heck was that?
Brunch wasn‘t a meal, and cheese only ever came in a hard lump.
Eating outside was called a picnic, not al fresco. Eating raw fish was called crazy, not sushi. We’d eat lambs tongues, but wouldn’t have eaten seaweed in a pink fit, and eggs were not called ‘free range’ - they were just eggs.
Milk and cream came in the same bottle, before you gave it a shake. Prunes were “good for you” medicine. Garlic was used to ward off vampires in films, but never to be eaten.
Clean, drinkable water was free, straight out of the tap; if someone had suggested bottling and charging for it, who’d be silly enough to buy it?

Edited lightly to better reflect our Southern home.

Amen.

 

[Jörg Krüger]

Sounds just like Queensland in the 50’s and 60’s. Except we substituted mutton for beef.

Well, you know how much the Kiwis love their sheep

 

[Tra3]

It is amazing how globalized certain areas of the world have become.

 

[Bob Nelson 35Whelen]

I Remember when dinner might be a mutton chop, boiled shoulder or cold meat from the weekend leg of mutton roast, a dollop of mashed potato, some bendy carrots, peas and a mound of well-boiled cabbage?
Better eat up, otherwise pudding would be held to ransom. Luckily we had the Sunday roast with roast spuds, mint sauce and gravy to look forward to.
When I was growing up, "kebab" wasn’t even a word. Chilli was a country somewhere in South America. Curry was an unknown entity and Indian restaurants were only found in India.
Take-away was arithmetic, unless it was fish and chips. Pizza was something to do with a leaning tower. Oil was for lubricating your bike chain, not for cooking.
Potato crisps were all one flavour - salty. Coke was put on the fire; we never drank it and we certainly didn’t snort it.
Rice was only ever a milk pudding until someone invented Rice Risotto in a cardboard box.
A microwave wasn’t a tiny ripple in a puddle; it was science fiction.
Tea was made in a teapot and came in one flavour – tea. Mayonnaise was made with condensed milk, mustard and vinegar and called salad dressing. For your Iceberg lettuce. The one and only.
Bottled sauce was either tomato or Worcestershire. The only frozen food was ice cream. Yoghurt – what the heck was that?
Brunch wasn‘t a meal, and cheese only ever came in a hard lump.
Eating outside was called a picnic, not al fresco. Eating raw fish was called crazy, not sushi. We’d eat lambs tongues, but wouldn’t have eaten seaweed in a pink fit, and eggs were not called ‘free range’ - they were just eggs.
Milk and cream came in the same bottle, before you gave it a shake. Prunes were “good for you” medicine. Garlic was used to ward off vampires in films, but never to be eaten.
Clean, drinkable water was free, straight out of the tap; if someone had suggested bottling and charging for it, who’d be silly enough to buy it?

Edited lightly to better reflect our Southern home.

@Von Gruff
Gary life was so much simpler in the 50s, 60s and 70s.
A roast chicken was a luxury compared to other meats. Every time our chickens went off the lay dad would lop the heads off snd hang them on the clothes line to bleed out. Mum would have the old copper boiling so we could dunk and pluck. Vegetables were fresh from the garden.
Sunday nights there was only one TV in the street so all us kids would watch Disney land Sunday night while the parents socialised over a few drinks.
We had a public phone in the street 2 doors up.
If you were gay you had a good time not homosexual. You put you feet on a poof to relax. Hard work was the norm.
As a kid I would go to the pistol club with dad and load his magazines. After the shoot us kids got taught how to shoot hand guns. Mainly 22s or S&W K38. You could walk out of your house with a rifle and no one batted an eyelid.
At 14 I worked in a big depth store and part of my job was to oil all the guns. As I knew more than the other workers I usually got asked to do the sales. I got a few strange looks from the older generation but when they knew who my dad was they accepted my advice. Even at that age I NEVER recommended the 243.
The stores closed Saturday lunchtime and reopened Monday morning.
Best of all most people were genuine back then
Enough reminiscing.
Bob

 

[nztimb]

@Von Gruff
Gary life was so much simpler in the 50s, 60s and 70s.
A roast chicken was a luxury compared to other meats. Every time our chickens went off the lay dad would lop the heads off snd hang them on the clothes line to bleed out. Mum would have the old copper boiling so we could dunk and pluck. Vegetables were fresh from the garden.
Sunday nights there was only one TV in the street so all us kids would watch Disney land Sunday night while the parents socialised over a few drinks.
We had a public phone in the street 2 doors up.
If you were gay you had a good time not homosexual. You put you feet on a poof to relax. Hard work was the norm.
As a kid I would go to the pistol club with dad and load his magazines. After the shoot us kids got taught how to shoot hand guns. Mainly 22s or S&W K38. You could walk out of your house with a rifle and no one batted an eyelid.
At 14 I worked in a big depth store and part of my job was to oil all the guns. As I knew more than the other workers I usually got asked to do the sales. I got a few strange looks from the older generation but when they knew who my dad was they accepted my advice. Even at that age I NEVER recommended the 243.
The stores closed Saturday lunchtime and reopened Monday morning.
Best of all most people were genuine back then
Enough reminiscing.
Bob

Ony we didn't have tv as there was no repeater station to relay to our area. I was just on 15 when the farming district put together enough to pay for,the repeater and it was often rolling or snowy picture but in any case it came on at 6 oclock for the news and off again at about 11 if I remember right. I left when still 15 to go into the high country to work on a station. Mustering, tractor driving and general station work, but it was the knives supplied to kill the dog tucker and house meat that started my journey into analytical knife design, reshaping a couple to suit better and later on into making them. Rifles were 22, 12G and 303 with a few 7x57's and then later on, the 222 for small game although it did get used for head shooting deer by the government cullers, so no 243 and like you when it came on the scene I was in the same club as you in it was too big for the small stuff where the 222 excelled and too small for big deer expecially in the wet where the 7x57 and 303 were the hunting cartridges on renown..

 

[Bob Nelson 35Whelen]

Sounds just like Queensland in the 50’s and 60’s. Except we substituted mutton for beef.

@R eight
I wish you could still get a leg of mutton. Far nicer than a leg of lamb.
Then after its roasted fry a few slices of bread in the pan before the gravy is made.
Bloody beautiful fried bread.
Bob

 

[Josh P]

Haven't turned my TV on in months, but Id tune in to watch the Bob and Gruff Show.

 

[nztimb]

@R eight
I wish you could still get a leg of mutton. Far nicer than a leg of lamb.
Then after its roasted fry a few slices of bread in the pan before the gravy is made.
Bloody beautiful fried bread.
Bob

Best sheep meat is from a two tooth weather and from the sheep we ran on the lower reaches of the high country back in the later 60's were a border leicester / merino cross and he put a hampshire ram over them that produced big rangy sheep with the bulk coming from the hampshire ram. Best eating ever.