Modern Shakespearean Cuisine

by Nicola
(South Australia)

Trevor had never liked his mother's cooking for as long as he could remember. Bacon and jam in porridge for breakfast, being sent to school with a cheese, banana, tuna and jam sandwich; fried beetroot with custard for dessert were some of her more memorable dishes. But her latest fad was just too much.

Ever since his father had passed away, she had gone decidedly dotty. It wasn't the fact that she now insisted on wearing robes and a pointy hat, nor the fact that she liked to hold regular séances. It was her obsession with believing that if she cooked the right brew, he would somehow come back to her.

"Trevor dear!" her tremulous voice called from the kitchen. He groaned. What was she about to send him out for now?

"Yes mum."

"I'm having a little trouble with this recipe. I just cannot get all the ingredients. I even went to that nice little shop that sells crystals. You know, the one that has the wands, birds feet and pickled entrails out the back?"

"I remember," he mumbled, "So is this one of your own recipes?"

"Oh no dear! This one is special. I got it from the Great Bard himself." She looked immensely pleased.

"The great bard …?"

"Shakespeare! You know he's my favourite!"

"Oh." Trevor looked at her in trepidation.

"I need your opinion. Do you think I could make a few replacements? I've had a few thoughts. Do let me know what you think dear."

Trevor sighed and sat down to read her list. On one side was a list of ingredients, each with either a tick or a cross beside it to signify whether or not she had it, and a second column with alternate ingredients listed beside those with crosses.

Fillet of a fenny snake – tick – "Where did you get a snake fillet?" he asked, somewhat shocked.

"Oh that's ok dear. I couldn't get the right sort, but I asked Bronnie around the corner if I could have the brown one her cat caught the other day. I intend to use its tongue too. We don't have any adders around here." She looked decidedly pleased with herself.

"Eye of newt, mother?" he was decidedly unimpressed, and his tone showed it.

"Oh, well they're a bit like geckos dear. I found one in the garden." At the horrified look on his face, she continued with a most innocent look on her bespectacled face, "it was a dead one dear. I wouldn't harm a living one." She patted him on the head.

"Wool of bat and tongue of dog! Mother!!" He stood up and looked down at her firmly, ready finally to put a stop to this nonsense.

"Calm down dear. I got a bit of sheep wool, and just for you, I bought some of those hot dogs from the supermarket." She smiled sweetly. He sat again, deciding that perhaps it wasn't as bad as he thought.

"I plan to use the brown snake's tongue, and well our worms don't sting, but I found a bee. See I have it in a jar." She continued, as for the lizard's leg, well I'll just have to use the gecko I suppose." She looked at him in askance, "They are similar aren't they dear? Don't you think that would do?"

Trevor declined to answer, and perused the remainder of her list.

"Well, no I won't hurt a poor baby owl dear," as she saw him glance at owlet's wing, " but there was a squashed magpie in the street. You know how their wings stick up?" Trevor swallowed.

"For the dragon scale, I thought perhaps I would scrape the skin from the snake and the gecko. We must be enterprising you know." She babbled on. "I found one of your baby teeth, with that beard you look a little like a wolf. Why on earth don't you shave?"

"Mother. I like my beard. Please don't do this .."

"But dear, I have done so well! Don't worry, I won't use hemlock. I can't find it anywhere. Besides, I am quite sure it is poisonous and I don't want to poison my little boy. What sort of mummy would I be?" she pinched his cheek. He scowled.

"Chicken liver replaces the liver of a blaspheming Jew, I have sea salt, and a fillet of shark from the fish and chip shop. I couldn't get the gall of goat, but I bought a bag of assorted offal from the butcher, instead of yew, I thought perhaps a spring of basil? Give it a bit of flavour don't you think?"

Trevor grew increasingly green, his mother seemed not to notice.

"Instead of a Turkishman's nose, I thought the parson's nose from a turkey would do, and well … Tartar sauce can surely replace a Tartar's lips."

"And what, may I ask are you planning on using for "finger of birth strangled babe", mother?"

"Lamington fingers." She smiled, placed her hands on her hips. "So would you prefer this with gravy or custard dear?"

Trevor groaned. "Sorry mum. I've been meaning to tell you. I have turned vegetarian."