She's Leaving Home 

Author:  Monica Trapaga

MONICA TRAPAGA knew exactly what to do when her daughter Lil announced she was leaving home:  present her with a collection of tried-and-tested family recipes and stories.

Drawing on her Spanish heritage, crazy family history and vast well of creativity, Monica gives us a recipe book replete with love and humour, along with ninety seriously good recipes, from the classics (roast beef, bolognese and brownies) to the exotic (paella, san choi bao and gazpacho).

Beautifully illustrated with drawings from artist MEREDITH GASTON and Monica's own collages, this precious manual of culinary inspiration and sound practical advice is a must-have for any girl about to embark on her own life journey.

Watch the author, Monica Trapaga as she talks about "She's Leaving Home

Introduction

At some stage or another, a young girl has got to take that big step: steal her mother's copy of The Cook's Companion, smuggle out the well-seasoned Le Creuset casserole and set up house for herself.

In my case, it was a dog-eared scrapbook filled with page after crusty page of tried-and-true recipes, and a big black cast-iron frying pan. Luckily for me I came from a long line of good cooks and, as far back as I can remember, food and the ceremony that goes with it have always been fundamental to me.

The most important events in my life have been punctuated by food. In times of celebration, extravagant culinary concoctions and classic family favourites give the occasion meaning and purpose. In times of sadness, family companionship and the soft blanket of comfort food is the best rescue remedy. In times of adventure, the ways of the world are opened up via our tastebuds. They say money makes the world go round, but good food makes it worth spending.

My family is originally from the Philippines. My ancestors on my mother's side have Spanish and American roots, and on my father's side they are Spanish and Basque (a somewhat volatile combination!). My maternal grandfather, Luis Esteban, an actor and professional cartoonist, died the year before I was born, leaving his beautiful and elegant wife, Mary Case Esteban, as the head of the family.

Mary is now 101 years old, and still cooking. For almost fifty years she ran a successful catering business in Manila, cooking for state events, weddings, christenings and other celebrations. Her version of the traditional Filipino dishbibingka malagkit was so prized by then-president Ferdinand Marcos that he would send an armoured car round to her place to pick it up. She was also a couturier of note – responsible for the intricate embroidered décor in the home of the former president and his wife Imelda, along with many of their traditional outfits. Her name was synonymous with style, grace and truly amazing creations, whether in food or fashion.

My mother Margot's childhood under Grandma Mary's tutelage made her the adventurous gastronome she is today. As well as being an amazing and creative cook, Margot has the enthusiasm of Doris Day, the wardrobe of Jackie Onassis and the panache of Gina Lollobrigida. She also had the good sense to marry my father, Nestor Trápaga, a man with the spirit of Picasso, the smile of Omar Sharif and the thick black hair of Desi Arnaz. As a young couple they made a real splash on the Manila social scene and soon began a clan of their own. But life under the Marcos regime was not always easy, so after my siblings Ignatius, Luis Miguel and Rocio (Cio) were born, my parents started dreaming of alternative places to build their Camelot. That's how they came to move to Australia in 1963.

My family arrived here at a time when there were few ingredients in Australian pantries that were familiar to them: no chillies, garlic, saffron, eggplants or coriander. Parsley was only ever curly and used to garnish sausages in the butcher's window, and olive oil was found at the chemist, labelled 'For medicinal use only'. Margot's response to this was to plant a plethora of herbs and vegetables in the backyard that kept our neighbours fascinated, and the family and friends who dined at our place delighted.

I was born in 1965, an Aussie cockatoo amongst a flock of flamingos, although I looked more like a Mexican chiquita. I was doted on by my brothers and sister and indulged by my parents. At the age of four, I had my own kitchen (made out of a large packing crate) complete with a miniature saucepan set that fuelled my desire to cook. I was forever inviting family members and neighbours to sample my cooking: mudpies garnished with snail shells, corn-silk spaghetti with crabapple meatballs, and my famous peanut soup.

I'm sure I inherited my passion for cooking and entertaining from my mother, and she did everything possible to encourage this culinary love. She entertained in style and was unbelievably generous when it came to food. Her endless search for new and unusual ingredients took her well beyond the local supermarket. As a child, I remember her leaving the house at six in the morning to go to the Sydney fish markets (in those days, this was the only place you could get really fresh seafood). She'd bring home mysterious parcels tightly wrapped in butcher's paper and with a flamboyant flourish she'd tear them open – out would tumble kilos of fresh mussels, prawns, crabs and the occasional lobster. Our childhood parties were always extraordinary, with more costumes, games and party treats than Disneyland. This passion certainly seems genetic, as I see it now in my children – they adore food and will try anything.

Recently I married for the second time. My husband Simon, a wonderful, witty man, has four children of his own, so together we are the proud parents of six. Discovering each child's various culinary likes and dislikes has certainly been challenging. I am continually learning from them, and hopefully I've been able to instil in them a little of the love of food that the women in my life have passed on to me.

So why does someone with a great load of treasured family recipes want to write a cookbook and expose those well-guarded gems to the world? Well, two years ago my 21-year-old daughter Lil, part-time trapeze performer and full-time uni student, packed up her belongings (including a vast collection of hats and about two thousand books), and set up home on her own for the first time. She has entertaining in her bones – an insatiable appetite and an uncontrollable need to host. Nothing makes me happier than to receive a phone call from her requesting recipes, no matter how simple or difficult. I decided to create a volume of our favourite family recipes for her to take with her on her own life journey, a collection she could eventually add to herself and pass on to her own children.

These days, she is a qualified scientist and full-time trapeze performer, and although her calls are now often long-distance, things haven't changed much. Along with amusing letters and emails from remote corners of the world, I still get requests for recipes, but now I also get suggestions for previously un-thought-of culinary combinations and new exotic flavours. Lovely Lil is not just hosting dinner parties for a household anymore, she's cooking for a circus! She has sent me recipes from all over the world, prising gastronomic secrets from friends and acquaintances, and recalled many of our family's recipes that I'd forgotten.

So now this book, that started out as a gift from me to her, has become a gift for women everywhere. Young or old, there is nothing like cooking to bring people together. I've been fortunate to live with some great cooks in my life who have all graciously taught me a tip or two along the way. This book is nothing but a helping hand, a practical guide for those starting out, and most of all a way of passing on a little love. Go forth with courage, roll up your sleeves, throw on your apron (and some good music), learn by your mistakes and try everything at least once. Buon appetite!