So It Goes: Recipes brown with age and memory

I rustle through the sepia toned pages that crinkle like autumn leaves.  Every page is a memory.

And I realise that this 38-year old cook book tells something about the story of my family’s life.  This is the cookbook that you write your favourite recipes in, clearly attributing them to their source.

There are people in there I haven’t thought about for years.  People like Darlene, for example, who gave me lots of health recipes.  That was when I was a vegetarian and there are plenty of recipes with chick peas and tofu and without eggs that are a testament to that time.

There are the recipes from the 1970’s and 1980’s, still written in ounces and with an excessive use of margarine and white sugar.  There are the basic recipes from the early days, when I had to write down how to create a spaghetti dish and couldn’t throw something together using food in the fridge and pantry.

Most of the recipes though tell about the cook.  They are easy, have minimal ingredients and few steps.  And yes, that is something that works for me, hands down.

I felt nostalgic when I read the recipes that were given to me by my husband’s mother.  She was a caterer and some of hers are quite complex.  I may never make them, but anyone who goes to as much trouble as she did with her cooking is a winner in my eyes. She didn’t leave anything to her son when she died, but we have her coveted Heavenly Tart recipe and that’s a legacy in itself.

My reason for going through the book was to type up the still used recipes and create a new book – a book potentially with crisp white pages, behind plastic sheets and with instructions that could be easily read.  In typing these up, I converted ounces to grams, didn’t bother with much of the early stuff and brought my book into the current era.  I now have a digital version and a hard copy.

I’m glad I did it, but the character has gone.  No more the sprays of olive oil, the splatter of beaten egg, the ripped page where you just have to guess what was once there.

I’m not sure that cooking will ever create the same nostalgia.  Unless, I make the Heavenly tart all over again.