I taught them to cook

What an amazing book which I have just very much enjoyed reading. In context I taught in London schools too in the 1970s so Jenny’s delightful book has prompted so many memories for me triggering laughter, pride as well as sadness and frustration!I met Jenny as a colleague in the late 70s and used her books as well as work sheets in my classroom and departments. Without her creative input in the form of her prolific publications I would have been lost as nothing else met our standards and expectations.The latest book is an insight into teaching cookery in the 1970s with all the ideological and practical frustrations she constantly refers to. The content that we were required by exam boards and inspectors to teach was irrelevant to many of the young people we taught! As Jenny indicated the subject had low status and was often given to students in place of academic subjects. She was in a boys school and in mixed schools it was seen as a girls’ subject.The book reminds me of the many pleasures of teaching cookery / domestic science. It is a wonderful product of social history and included insights into her life as a single woman!There are some delicious recipes of the era too! I suggest and recommend that you have a taste of the book!

I also began teaching at a similar time in the 1970s and recognise so many references with regard to the social structure and expectations of that time, particularly the difference in what was expected from boys and girls .As the book is written from the narrators perspective and point of view the vivid and detailed descriptions are particularly effective. Ingredients used and food prepared are evocatively recalled and characters are really brought to life through carefully depicted dialogue.Interspersed with the 1970s narrative are reflective chapters reminiscing about the authors grandmother, her love of and preparation of ‘good’ food providing an effective contrast to some of the ‘meals’ demanded by the textbooks of the period. We are also made fully aware of the burgeoning more cosmopolitan lifestyle available outside of the narrow environment described here.The book examines honestly the problems, frustrations and rewards of trying to instil an appreciation and understanding of food at its best. As readers we sympathise with and also understand the struggles of both teacher and pupils. We appreciate and applaud their eventual successes and achievements

Throughout my time studying food at GCSE, A level and then as a teacher I have used Jenny's books and resources. This is such a wonderful memoir that reminds me of my food lessons at school, but also so much resonates today. From trying to decide on the name for our subject, to battling for budget some issues are still so relevant. I am however glad I never had to wear a pink nylon apron. Highly recommend this to teachers and food lovers alike!

You don't have to be interested in food or education to enjoy Jenny Ridgewell's page-turning account of teaching a disruptive and unwilling class of teenagers how to cook food in the 1970s. You will absorb a lot of social food history and fascinating period detail - Angel Delight? Stuffed lamb's hearts? How to set out a tempting tray for an invalid? -but you will also be engaged by the two underlying narratives. One is how an inexperienced 23 year old teacher in an East London school managed to lure her grumpy class to engage with an out of date curriculum and produce delicious food, even to turn up for the dreaded exam. The other is Jenny's own out of school quest to find the perfect man who will rescue her from being left on the shelf. Like the dated recipes she persuades her class to cook, the challenging ingredients of Jenny's story turn, in her hands, into a thoroughly enjoyable experience.

I read this book all in one greedy gulp, like eating one of those elegant cream horns produced by Jenny and her students in the school cookery room. It brings to vivid life that unique time in the early 1970s when London was still in the grip of the “swinging sixties”—a decade that in reality lasted from about 1964 to 1974. There were Biba, Bus Stop and Kensington Market to shop at, rock bands at the Roundhouse to listen to, and the new exciting wine bars—where, unlike in the dreary smoke-filled misogynistic pubs of the era, women felt welcome—to meet your friends in. “Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, but to be young was very heaven”, even when trying to teach cookery at a comprehensive in the east end, where no “exotic” foods—such as spaghetti, avocados or pizza—were eaten, sold in shops, or even heard of, and students’ stock response to any chance to try something new was, “We ain’t eatin’ that, Miss.”The world was at a crossroads, and in ways no longer remembered when we think about that period in retrospect, the stuffy old 1950s still prevailed, with rigid Victorian-style rules about frilly doilies, fluted-edged pie dishes, the importance of cutting radishes and tomatoes into flower shapes, and the inability of those in charge of the curriculum and exams to imagine that anyone other than “a busy housewife” might set foot in the kitchen. Inspiring to learn that the author herself later rose through the Home Economics hierarchy and helped to sweep away this sort of nonsense for ever.Woven through the cookery lore and the seasonal rhythms of the school year are the human stories—Jenny’s own roller-coaster life with lovers, family and friends, and the often funny, often moving glimpses into the lives of the students—that bind this lively account together and make it, perhaps surprisingly, considering the subject matter, a real page turner. But what stays with me, in glowing colours, now I’ve finished the book, is the food: the staid mid-century orthodoxies soon to be pushed off their perch—herring, liver, Stork margarine and Swiss rolls; the thrill of those “modern” convenience items—Angel Delight (I can still taste that butterscotch now!), Vesta dried curries, food from the freezer, and Jif lemon juice in its yellow lemon-shaped squeezy dispenser; and then, in contrast, the sophisticated dishes cooked and eaten by Jenny herself, way beyond anything imagined by "Home Economics"—schnitzel, goulash, kebabs in hot pitta bread, coquilles St Jacques, boeuf bourguignon and profiteroles. How exciting food was back then! If you were around at the time, this book will very pleasurably bring it all back, and if you weren’t, you’re in for a fascinating voyage of discovery into an era almost within touching distance, but which now seems so long ago.