To the Murrumbeena Methodist Ladies’ Cookery Book and Beyond
The Murrumbeena Methodist Cookery Book was published by Murrumbeena Methodist Ladies’ League in 1950. Members were invited to submit their recipes to what became a 68-page booklet, containing ‘Over 200 Tested recipes’. It cost 2 shillings.
The booklet received sponsorship from local Murrumbeena businesses.
They sure could write a promotion in those days.
Seventy-five years after its publication, who would have thought that the sponsors’ advertisements would be of as much, if not more interest, than the recipes themselves. They paint a picture of an incredibly vibrant community that, in the small shopping strip based around the intersections of Murrumbeena and Neerim Roads, locals could buy just about everything they required for daily living. In an era with so few owning a car (let alone two) and a distinct lack of large shopping centres, it was women, largely housebound as wives and mothers, (and without the distractions of mobile phones, televisions or the internet), who were the ones who would make their way to Murrumbeena shops. There, they’d meet their friends, catch up on local news and compare notes on their children, before heading home. Is it any wonder that so many older people remember this time in Australia’s history so fondly and as the ‘good old days?’
I feel that when I came to Murrumbeena in 1983, the very last vestiges of this Australia were visible, but fading. John Attwood’s newsagency still did a great trade. There were a milk bar and a supermarket, at least two (and possibly three) banks, a travel agency, a (genuine) cake shop, and a couple of service stations.
And sitting prominently in Neerim Road, opposite Murrumbeena Station, was Mr. Pigeon and his hardware. Mr Pigeon was an old man who got around in a grey dust-jacket. He was a fine build, and had a wiry frame and a small head. His shop was like those you see in old-time television shows or movies. In an average sized shop, grey and dusty with a timber floor, there were narrow aisles separated by tall shelves. On them were boxes, jars, tins and packets containing an assortment of hinges, nails, screws and the like, all available, it seemed as individual items and all dusty. I seem to remember Oakleigh having a hardware just like it. I suppose they were common in the day and Murrumbeena’s must have been one of the last. It must have been gone by the end of the 1980s. I think the very last one is in Albert Park and it’s the real deal. So Bunnings, watch out.
Every generation thinks that they knew the world as it really was before everything changed. As a baby boomer, I’m just the same. I remember a world where there were a milk bar and servo on every corner. Sunday trading was non-existent (except for milk bars) and Saturday afternoons were quiet too, and a television set in the house was still something special. When Covid restrictions were in place in 2020 and everything shut down, I was living on Blackburn Road in Mt Waverley. Blackburn Road, which now carries freeway-type traffic, reminded me of those quiet Sundays in the 1960s. It was good. I liked it, I suppose because it reminded me of those quieter years. It was a quieter time.
But the world moves on. Whether I like it or not, it’s a different world to the one I grew up in. It’s pointless contemplating the good old days, just like it’s pointless trying to predict the future. The world is like a freight train with a massive engine and load pushing it along. Its drivers don’t look left or right, they don’t care who or what gets in its way, and they have absolutely no idea where it’s going.
When I was in my teens and 20s, I used to think that it was really important to stay up with the news. I believed that people should read the paper because one day someone was going to do something that really impacted on them and they should know about it before it arrived.
I don’t think quite the same way anymore. I have the feeling that nothing really changes the direction that freight train is traveling beyond a few degrees, which hardly makes a difference to where it will eventually end up. This doesn’t make me old and grizzled. It just gives me a perspective on what happens in the world and how little say we have over it. And that in one way or another, everything has happened before, and if it hasn’t and it isn’t good, how could we stop it anyway.
But despite all this, I do follow the news to see what the world is doing. I follow the ABC, Canadian news services, the BBC, SBS and CNN. By far, the most entertaining of these is CNN. American politics is such a circus. If somebody wrote a fictional version of it, no one would believe them; it’s way too far-fetched. But there it is. A lot of colour and movement, but severely lacking in substance. Riveting and not to be missed. What really changes? Not much.
But thankfully there is Hope, and despite everything I still have it. Why? I’m not sure. (What’s the definition of a pessimist? An optimist with more information.) I probably think that without Hope there is nothing and that’s not really an option. Those much younger than me who are doing their best to save the planet and the people who occupy it have Hope. Otherwise, why would they bother? All power to them. It’s a dirty job and someone has got to do it. They know what’s on the line, for them and future generations. Unlike the ones driving the freight train, who are too greedy, blind, uncaring, gullible and compromised to know or care. Such a shame.
The Murrumbeena Methodist Cookery Book: Selected Recipes
