My Mum’s homemade minced steak kebabs

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My Mum’s homemade minced steak kebabs are vibrant, fresh, tasty and easy to bring to the table under pressure. I know more than ever that finding simple ways to feed my family feels like gold dust. When I discover a new recipe it is a good day. But sometimes the best fix for family life is the food my Mum taught me to cook. I want to share with you the story of Mum’s take on the varied world of kebabs. But first I need to set the scene…

Motherhood is a busy place

Growing up my Mum was always busy. That sounds too generic a description of her hectic lifestyle. I mean she would be working before we woke for the day. Parallel to that she would get us all ready for school, out the door and to the school gates for 9 or thereabouts. Friends and family have always joked about my Mum being late for everything. They say it like she is twiddling her thumbs or taking detours for fun. I have always thought in response to that: “I would love to see you even try to achieve in a day what my Mum does”. From there she would be popping into old ladies who she knew through hairdressing. These ladies lived alone and because my Mum knew they struggled she would call in to help. She would strip their beds and remake them, empty bins, trim their nails and make them a cup of tea. This wasn’t her job, she wasn’t getting paid to do it. She was doing it because she has a big heart and puts others ahead of herself.

Then she would be off to work, either hairdressing or working in a kitchen at my primary school. She would go to my Grandad’s house every day, even if she didn’t have time. She made time and she knew that her company brought him comfort. It can be very lonely, I imagine, going from a household thick with community, (my grandparents had six children) constantly feeding and welcoming their children and grandchildren into their nest to find sanctuary from life. And then one day death comes calling to take away your spouse and you are to be alone. Everyone is grown-up, busy and finding their own way. The house echos with the sounds of the boiler ticking over, the kettle clicking loud and obvious. The clock ticking forward as an abrupt reminder that life has become slow and your community has reduced. Those daily visits made my Grandad’s day and that is all my Mum needed to know.

Eating fresh food in a busy life

My Mum would get us all home from school often taking other kids home for their busy Mums too. Sometimes we would get back and it would be a quick dash to dinner before heading back out for keyboard, swimming or dance lessons. Dinner was always fresh and homemade, and these kebabs are the epitome of that. Now that I have my own family I realise what a sacrifice it takes to feed a family in that way. My Dad would get home from work having been out since 7am. Almost 12 hours later he would return ready to decompress from his day with big projects and challenges in all directions. Back to the house, with three young children and a wife – who despite having not sat down once all day – didn’t complain as she served the family meal.

The dinner table

At the table, the atmosphere buzzed with usual family life. Someone would spill a drink, usually my sister Hayley. My sister Wiz is 8 years younger than me and so often she would be making us all laugh with her innocence and wonder. There would be the talk of my parent’s day, what my Mum had on that night, a negotiation my Dad was navigating at work. There would be squabbles, banter and conversation. Everything but silence was part of dinner time. And there at the heart of it all was the food that had been prepared and brought together because my Mum learned to feed a family from her Mum. A passed down and updated approach to family life. The pots would get done between me and my sisters, homework would be tackled, the football would be on, my Mum would be working again and always without doubt our little community thrived in the love and light of my parents.

36 years of marriage

Earlier this week my parents celebrated their 36th wedding anniversary. But they have been together for 47 years. In 1974 my Dad was a young apprentice and he met my Mum at her sister’s wedding. She was a bridesmaid and he was full of charisma and fun. The Walsh’s have big personalities and know how to work a crowd; my Dad is a Walsh through and through. At the wedding, they hit it off and my Dad invited himself to Cheshire to stay with my Mum and her family. Unbeknownst to my Mum he also had the swagger to turn up, uninvited and my Mum age 16 asked her parents if he could stay. Of course, he could, their house was an open and welcoming home. That was the start of their embrace and adventure.

Manchester

My Dad was born to Irish immigrants (Pat and Sonny) living in Manchester, he grew up to be football mad. I should mention here that he supports Manchester United, though I am sure no one thought for a minute he might support that other team?! Growing up my Dad’s life was a mix of English/Irish influence. In the area of Manchester where he grew up, everyone was of Irish stock. The people and the community were warm and welcoming and everyone was in the same position – they had nothing and everything at the same time. My Grandad, Sonny grew up on a farm so he knew good food and in time he started his own textile business in the city which saw his network expand. I think he always felt comfortable around other immigrants and was interested in their food and culture.

On the streets of Manchester, my Dad made lifelong friends. Football became part of his culture and soon those boys who were kicking a ball around from dawn to dusk were old enough to be at the pubs drinking, travelling around the country to follow their team all with a backdrop of fun and a bit of madness. My parents courted for 11 years. They had a big group of friends and they have enough good stories to fill a book. Holidays, clubs, nights out, parties – they did a lot of living before they settled with a family. So when they married in 1985 they forged a union that would celebrate family in the best way they knew. Drawing in all of the good influences from their expeirence.

Forging a new family

Food was always going to be an important part of their story. Before they moved to Cheshire they lived in Manchester. They would often eat out and my Grandad, who was always looking to experience new cultures, would take them for meals to new and exciting places. When my Mum was pregnant with me in the 80s my grandad insisted he took them to a Greek takeaway on Oxford road. He loved Greece, the food, people and culture. He wanted them to have their first shish kebab. They were hooked and even when they moved to Cheshire they would drive back with friends just for the kebabs.

They also started making homemade kebabs. I say they, my Dad will tell you himself, he doesn’t do any of the cooking. He has recently been learning to cook with me – his spag bol is second to none. My Mum tells me that before having me and my sisters, they made this recipe with steak which she would slice, season and fry. But when the family grew and the money had to stretch further she started using minced steak instead. I only know this version and it is the only version I want to know because it is perfect. Making this meal transports me back through time. I remember so vividly being in the kitchen dicing onions, sprinkling salt, chopping cucumbers. Stuffing hot pittas with all the different ingredients. Finishing with salt and lemon juice and then serving. Of the many homemade dishes Mum cooks for us all, these kebabs are Dad’s favourite, and I know why. He says he loves the colour of the dish, the freshness and the salt and lemon with all the salad. But I think it’s more than that. It’s a connection to a happy past. It’s a memory brought to life through food.

Homemade kebabs and the stories of the past

When I make this recipe for my family I love to see everyone enjoying it, the food becoming part of the future paying homage to the past. Food like this is affordable, simple, tasty and for me, it is filled with stories. Stories are the way we learn and grow, the way we celebrate and grieve. Feeding a family isn’t just about what’s for dinner, it’s about connection, experience and celebration.

If you make these homemade kebabs, and I really hope you do, I would love to hear what you think in the comments or tag us in your pictures on Instagram and Facebook. Happy 36th wedding anniversary to my parents. Thank you for weathering all the storms that married life brings. Your examples of love and sacrifice lead the way.