‘My mother-in-law’s family secret was solved in a deathbed disclosure’

Much like my own son-in-law has today, I had a truly unqiue — some might say ‘quirky’, while others would say ‘interesting’ — mother-in-law and I liked her very much. Whatever she was or was not, family came first; she was proud of her two sons, her daughter and all her grandchildren.

Christmas means many things to many people, but around my clan it meant wonderful gatherings, family reunions, gifts, hugging and kissing. Centre stage was always the Christmas table overflowing with culinary contributions from each family group. The store-bought offerings were gratefully accepted, but were somehow always rated second best. The homemade, cooked from scratch delicacies were relished and devoured with much complimenting bandied about. Competition for this ‘complimenting’ was never spoken of, but obviously prized and quietly sought after.

The jewel in the Christmas table crown was always Mum’s potato salad, an Australian summer ‘must’. Now, you must understand this was no ordinary potato salad. If there was a gold cup or royal recognition for potato salad, this dish would be a standout winner with no competition within hooey. Grown men and women were known to have Tupperware in handbags ready to sneak portions home. You see, this salad was only served on Christmas Day to family who attended Mum’s festivities. She was a very smart woman.

When I was new to this tribe, more than 40 years ago, I innocently asked for the recipe. No matter who I asked, nobody knew exactly what gave it that oomph, that zing, that melt-in-your-mouth, I-need-more-of-this, flavour. I fancied myself a not-too-squeezie cook, but I could not pinpoint the unusual ingredients that married so well to warrant the party that happened in my mouth with every spoonful.

Mum, quietly and politely, told me the recipe was a family secret and she would pass it on “one day”; “Maybe next year”. No amount of birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, christenings, wakes, was ever sanctified with an appearance of that potato salad. Every bloody year I tried to get the recipe, every Christmas I was convinced she would give me the secret ingredients; then, one day, she did.

It was the very meaning of a bitter sweet day; Boxing Day of all days. The look on my husband’s face told me all was not well and we had to rush to the hospital. Mum was asking for me and we had to be very, very quick. She looked ever so little in that big hospital bed, her eyes sending me urgent signals to come closer. Did I mention my mother-in-law had a wicked sense of humour? Through my tears and, yes, I admit laughter, she anointed me family head honcho with the whispering of those precious few ingredients.

Guess what was served at the wake, but will only ever be served at our family Christmas lunches? Rest in peace, Mum, and merry Christmas!

Are there dishes only served at special occasions in your family? Do you have ‘secret’ rfamily recipes, handed down over generations?

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