A long time ago I heard a story on NPR of a little boy whose mother died tragically when he was 8. It was the late 50's and his dad had no idea how to deal with it, so he got rid of all the evidence that his wife ever existed. He remarried, and the childrens' mother was just not talked about. Needless to say the boy had a tough time throughout his life and never really considered himself happy. Then when he was in his forties his dad passed away and he was cleaning out the garage. He found a box full of cook books and hand-written recipes that belonged to his mother. He spent days reading the recipes and the notes that his mom had written in the margins. Then he began cooking. He said it was the first time he could "feel" his mother again, and he started to remember good memories from his childhood that he had forgotten. He opened a restaurant, and now finally feels like he has some closure and direction.
So, of course that story struck me ridiculously hard, and I vowed to do a better job of keeping "my" recipes organized so that when my boys are away from home and family they can have a little taste of it when they need it. As I've been doing family history research, I find these people, my family, and all I have are just names, places, and dates. I have SO many questions about them! What were they like? What were their lives like? Anything I find; any evidence that they existed is a thrill. A simple story, or a photograph makes them come alive for me, and I wish I had more.
At Easter my Grandma gave me an 1908 cook book from her home town in Rhode Island, and as I've been reading it I wonder what recipes were staples in my family. I realized that I'm not the only one with recipes I love for the memories they spark rather than for their culinary perfection. So now I'm on a mission of collecting recipes and the memories that go along with them to pass on to my children so that they can have a little taste of their heritage.
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