By Janice Lindsay
Many of these loving, funny, helpful women are gone. Some are still with us. But all their spirits linger in my recipe box, thanks to the long-ago wedding gift of a thoughtful friend.
Before my husband and I were married – 48 years ago this month – my friend contacted about 50 of my female friends, relatives, and relatives-to-be, asking them to write their favorite recipes on 3×5 index cards. She collected 150 recipes, most of them handwritten, some typed. She filed them in a yellow plastic recipe box.
That box has sat on my kitchen counter ever since. It has been opened and closed thousands of times and has collected many more recipes.
The women who shared their recipes so long ago still inspire me and make me laugh, even more than they did then, when I hadn’t lived long enough to appreciate how truly special and individual the people are whose lives touch ours as we sojourn on this planet.
My parents’ friend whom my sister and I called Aunt Frieda (no relation; “aunt” was honorary), sent a recipe for Apple Harvest Squares. Of course she would send an apple recipe. She and “Uncle” Henry owned an apple orchard.
It’s no surprise that our grandmother’s favorite recipes are filed most often under “Cookies” and “Desserts.” Grandma didn’t bother much with fruits, vegetables, or balanced meals.
A friend wrote, about her recipe for Cucumber Salad with Sour Cream, “Sounds gruesome, but it’s one of the favorites of my family.”
An aunt on the Scottish side of the family sent a recipe for Scottish Shortbread that contains only three ingredients: sugar, butter, pastry flour. She wrote that the recipe was given to the family by a famous professional baker in Scotland “who came to this fair land of America to be a professional golfer!!! Good luck! I have never dared to try it.”
On the back of Chocolate Deluxe Icing, our aunt in Florida wrote about her trips to Daytona Beach and Fort Lauderdale.
A friend contributed Coq au Vin and a poem: “Coq au vin/When you dine/Sounds better than/Chicken in wine… N’est-ce pas?”
Another sent Never Fail Pie Crust (Well, Almost Never), writing, “If I can do it, you can do it.”
A second recipe, for Butter Cake with Almond Paste, appears in her handwriting, but is signed from her daughter, who was one year old, with “Best wishes for a very happy marriage to my favorite aunt.” In this case, I’m the honorary aunt.
One friend wrote about her String Bean Casserole, “I got this recipe from my mother-in-law and have received many compliments – even from her.”
Rhubarb Roly Poly, wrote another, “serves six, or one hungry husband.”
A friend’s Tuna Casserole: “Put it in the oven and bake at 350 for … 15 (?) minutes. You know me. It just has to get hot. I don’t remember how long.”
From my sister, a card labeled Mom’s Good Ole-Fashioned Colonial Chicken holds no recipe, only a note: “Hey, Jan. I lost my copy so when Mom gives you the recipe, how’s about sending me one?”
Recipes are more than instructions for making delicious food. They’re threads of family history. Ties of friendship and of a shared culture. Glimpses into the personalities of the senders. Strands in the webs of our relationships, strands that remain with us even after the weavers are gone.
Dick’s cousin contributed her recipe for Never Fail Chocolate Cupcakes. She wrote, “Good enough for royalty.”
In the realm of my life, all these women are royalty.
Contact jlindsay@tidewater.net.
