Earlier this month, I called my sis to acknowledge the anniversary of Mom’s passing seven years ago. Sis was on a long car ride so it was a perfect time for our journey down memory lane.
The journey began when she asked me to check Mom’s recipe box for something. Her old black and white enameled storage of cullinary memories is rusting in spots and many of the aging cards are yellow, but I can't bear to dispose of it. Recipes taken from newspapers and magazine are barely attached to the cards as the tape has lost its stickability. This is a treasure chest of often delectable memories and a few duds.
As I flipped through the box and read recipes aloud, we laughed about some of the ingredients popular in the 1960’s and 1970’s when we were growing up and sometimes guinea pigs. Recipes calling for Cool Whip, canned soup, cake mixes, margarine, and jello were scattered amongst more appetizing and natural sounding ones for scalloped oysters, bourbon pecan cake, bourbon balls, and creamy sauces with shrimp and lobster.
Mom often baked breads including one of my favorites that I have made many times, Garlic Parmesan Bread (see recipe at the end). Influencing her cooking were her native Kentucky, a college degree in home economics and nutrition, and being a Florida transplant in the late 1950’s. The box is something of a time capsule that was closed in 2002 after Dad passed and Mom ceased most of her cooking.
Scone recipes were prevalent. They were a favorite of Dad’s, after his time in England during World War II when he was showered with opportunities for tea with elderly ladies whose own sons were fighting far from home. Dad couldn't resist a scone or an old lady's invitation to tea.
I tossed out a zucchini recipe that we agreed sounded terrible and read a recipe for Fruit Cheesecake from Dahlia Brown, who catered some of our Christmas parties. Everything from Dahlia’s kitchen was delicious, especially her desserts.
Mom was a frugal cook who usually made something delicious. There were a few exceptions including her liver and onions and macaroni and cheese (only made when she had old cheese to get rid of). Sometimes she would make scrapple; we reluctantly took only the required bites.
Growing up in Florida, we ate meals on the screened porch of our old Victorian house much of the year. I preferred to sit on the side of the table above the knot hole in the floor board that proved convenient for surreptitiously disposing of unwanted food. I don't know if Mom and Dad were ever aware of that hole's contribution to the "clean plate club.".
Sis and I had fun laughing instead of being sad. We shared family memories and agreed about how food and family favorites were a big part of our extended gatherings, as well as the memorial service weekend when we all honored Mom after her passing.
My children won't have a recipe box to go through when I am gone. All my recipes, but for a few cookbooks, are stored in the cloud. There they will find some of their favorites from growing up (none with cake mix, Jello, margarine, or canned soup) along with many of their grandmother’s recipes.
Food and recipes are all a part of our family heritage and passing on the tasty memories keeps those who have left the earth alive in our hearts and at our dinner tables.
I loved the knothole memory and the joy you have from your memories
I love my Mom's and My sister's reciipe boxes. I passed along one recipe that required Oleo to a much younger friend. She called me after quite awhile from the grocery store asking what in the heck it was and where to find it. No one in the store knew what it was. Are you not old enough to remember that ingredient? Thanks for the memories.