Sarsy Mussels
High Quality Giclee print on museum grade archival Smooth Cotton Rag 280GSM.
“Sarsy Mussels”
When I was little, my dad and I were the only ones in our house who loved sarsaparilla, along with mint slice, fruit and nut chocolate, and Turkish delight. It was a big win for us, knowing the other four in the family weren’t interested.
Hubba Bubba, though, was a favourite for my siblings and I —a rare childhood luxury.
Dippy eggs with soldiers (cut-up toast) were another treat, mostly because we were always rushing to catch the school bus for the hour-long trip into town. But when Mum made eggs, I felt like a queen getting room service.
Mussels, on the other hand, were never my thing—then or now. But for someone else, they might have been their version of luxury, just like sarsaparilla was for me.
This odd mix of foods—simple, nostalgic, and maybe (definitely) “gross” together - reminds me how food shapes our memories, comforts, and hesitations. It doesn’t make sense, but that’s what I love about it.
High Quality Giclee print on museum grade archival Smooth Cotton Rag 280GSM.
“Sarsy Mussels”
When I was little, my dad and I were the only ones in our house who loved sarsaparilla, along with mint slice, fruit and nut chocolate, and Turkish delight. It was a big win for us, knowing the other four in the family weren’t interested.
Hubba Bubba, though, was a favourite for my siblings and I —a rare childhood luxury.
Dippy eggs with soldiers (cut-up toast) were another treat, mostly because we were always rushing to catch the school bus for the hour-long trip into town. But when Mum made eggs, I felt like a queen getting room service.
Mussels, on the other hand, were never my thing—then or now. But for someone else, they might have been their version of luxury, just like sarsaparilla was for me.
This odd mix of foods—simple, nostalgic, and maybe (definitely) “gross” together - reminds me how food shapes our memories, comforts, and hesitations. It doesn’t make sense, but that’s what I love about it.
High Quality Giclee print on museum grade archival Smooth Cotton Rag 280GSM.
“Sarsy Mussels”
When I was little, my dad and I were the only ones in our house who loved sarsaparilla, along with mint slice, fruit and nut chocolate, and Turkish delight. It was a big win for us, knowing the other four in the family weren’t interested.
Hubba Bubba, though, was a favourite for my siblings and I —a rare childhood luxury.
Dippy eggs with soldiers (cut-up toast) were another treat, mostly because we were always rushing to catch the school bus for the hour-long trip into town. But when Mum made eggs, I felt like a queen getting room service.
Mussels, on the other hand, were never my thing—then or now. But for someone else, they might have been their version of luxury, just like sarsaparilla was for me.
This odd mix of foods—simple, nostalgic, and maybe (definitely) “gross” together - reminds me how food shapes our memories, comforts, and hesitations. It doesn’t make sense, but that’s what I love about it.