Homemaker’s Daughter

Long before I understood interiors professionally, I was growing up inside a home shaped by ritual, hospitality and homemaking. As a homemaker’s daughter, I absorbed the quiet routines that made a house feel like home — ironed sheets, carefully set tables, handwritten recipes, family gatherings and the rhythms of everyday domestic life that continue to stay with me today.

If dad built the house, then mom made it the home. I wrote previously about Dad building our homes in Canada in Builder’s Daughter. Mom (using the North American spelling as that’s how I referred to her for most of my life), meanwhile, was the ultimate homemaker. She even ironed the sheets, saying it made them fit in the cupboard better. And the linen cupboard was a thing of beauty — little parcels stacked according to bedrooms and sheet sets. Freshly ironed sheets were a joy to crawl into on your designated sheet day.

Mom was queen of bed linen: the mattress protector, the blanket to protect the mattress protector, the freshly ironed sheets, the light blanket, the heavier blanket in winter, and finally the bedspread. The bedspread was carefully folded down at night. We were never allowed to sit on the bed — that would ruin the fabric and possibly put strain on the mattress as well. I don’t think mom ever used duvets and covers. She stuck to her tried-and-true bedspreads, complete with matching shams and coordinating bed skirts.

Mom was always rearranging furniture. The designated family room had a summer and winter mode. In winter, the sofa was moved in front of the sliding door. In Canada, you didn’t need the access during those colder months, and perhaps it made the room feel cosier too. You could lie on the sofa and stare out into the grey winter atmosphere.

But what mom was truly legendary for was her baking. Most famous were her ANZAC biscuits. Marrying an Aussie meant a few Australian traditions found their way into our Canadian home. I still haven’t managed to recreate hers, so I’ve had to settle on finding my own version. Her pies were also well known. Her trick was using a glass pie plate so she could peek underneath to make sure the bottom wasn’t burning.

You can imagine with all this cooking and baking that mom would have some serious kitchen requirements. There had to be a wall oven, with regards to safety and access. Not the modern pull-down style, but the older kind with the side-swing door for easier access. I can still picture the vegetable peeler hanging from the oven latch, propping the side-swing door slightly ajar while a pavlova cooled — a sure sign that good things were coming.

She also insisted on a glass cooktop. She refused to clean stove burners. I know she would have loved today’s induction cooktops.

There was always a double bowl sink — one side for dirty dishes, one for prep — and it always sat under a window so she could look outside.

The cooktop was positioned in the island bench, but seating at the island was an absolute no-no. She didn’t want people distracting her while she cooked.

And she alone was permitted to load the dishwasher. It was done with military precision. She considered the “exit strategy” carefully so unloading would be simplified later.

Growing up, there was so much entertaining in our home. In fact, the last house Dad built for us could easily have been described as “an entertainer’s delight” — space for guests to dine, then separate areas to move into afterwards for conversation.

It really was another time.

I could write an entire separate article about the food Mom prepared. I still have all her cookbooks and handwritten recipe cards, little remnants of all the entertaining and homemaking that filled our home. Alongside the Canadian Company's Coming cookbooks were Australian Women’s Weekly cookbooks and recipes clipped from various magazines such as Chatelaine and Canadian Living.

Mom loved experimenting with new recipes. I remember one party where she cooked from the Australian Women’s Weekly Chinese cookbook. She always made multiple dishes so that there was something for everyone. And there was never just dessert. There would be glass bowls of After Eights and other sweet delights to accompany the tea and coffee. On the occasion of the Chinese dinner party, there were lychees dipped in chocolate.

The dining table was always properly set with her Royal Albert Keepsake china, which was slowly complemented over the years with simpler Royal Albert Val D’Or, a white china trimmed in gold — right down to the salt and pepper shakers, candy dishes, and gravy boat complete with saucer.

Remember gravy boats?

I was often called in the day before to help prepare the table: the large tablecloth unfurled, cutlery carefully laid out including dessert utensils, glassware polished, napkins folded, flowers arranged in the centre of the table and candles placed in their holders.

The best part of these parties, though, was always the leftovers in the fridge. My favourite leftover dish, which I still make today, is the festive layered salad.

Mom has been gone for many years now, and yet some of her homemaking habits remain with me.

I may not iron the sheets, but I still try to iron the pillowcases when I can.