Old Recipes
I collect old cookbooks. Small-town cookbooks, mostly. Self published ones. The kinds of books that were pieced together by hand, using old comb binding machines and mimeograph paper.
Often, these books were crafted by ladies from civic leagues, community groups, United Methodist congregations, and NASCAR Ladies Associations.
I have an entire shelf full. People send them to me. Sometimes, when I have nothing better to do I read them.
There is one such cookbook on my shelf from First Baptist Church, Slocomb, Alabama (1978). They don’t get too worked up in Slocomb.
There is a recipe entitled “Company Potatoes,” by Cora Casey. If this dish doesn’t change your life it will—at the very least—change the life of your company.
I have one from Pintlala Baptist Church. Pintlala isn’t the edge of the world, but you can see it from there. There is a recipe for ice-box lemon pie, submitted by Nana, Lillie Evans. In our house, we lovingly call this dish “Baptist Crack.”
There is an antique cookbook from a tiny town in Maryland, from a Unitarian church.
If you’ve never been to a Unitarian service, they’re notoriously bad singers. Mostly, because they’re always reading a few lines ahead to see if they agree with the lyrics. My favorite recipe is the one for Kool-Aid pickles.
There’s one from Brewton, Alabama’s civic league. My wife’s hometown. They have recipes for squirrel, possum, and even skunk. A man has to be pretty hard up to eat a skunk.
There’s one from the Fort Lauderdale, Florida Ladies Association for Responsible Feminism, from the 1970s. There is a recipe called “Bra Burner Casserole.”
I have one from a Tennessee Church of God. The opening foreword is written by the pastor. He writes, “Why does a $10 bill look so small at the grocery store, but so big at church?”
One of my favorite books is entitled “Cooking in Wyoming: The Centennial Women’s Suffrage Edition.” Wyoming was the first government in the world to grant women the right to vote.
There is a section on housekeeping. One section on woodfire-stove cooking from the pioneer days. My wife cooked once made the “Venison Stew á la Melchoir.” On a scale of one to 10, I give it a 549.
There is one from Lafayette, Louisiana, called the “Cajun Men Cookbook.” Put out by the Lafayette Lions Club, a lifetime ago. The club eventually evolved into the Beaver’s Club, a club name which has raised many questions among the Beavers’ wives.
There is a cookbook assembled by the Mobile Federation of Republican Women in 1966, with the largest chapter dedicated expressly to congealed salads.
Another one I own is called “Livers and Gizzards and Other Good Stuff.” The recipes will bring tears to your eyes.
But my all-time favorite cookbook is the Junior League cookbook of Destin, Florida. In this book is a recipe my youthful wife once contributed.
I’ll never forget that period of her life. She was in her early 20s. Like most 20-year-olds she was unsure of herself, and self-doubting. She tested her recipe several thousand times before submitting.
To this day, she still gets remarks from people who tried this recipe. She usually reads these emails aloud. And she always begins by saying, “Would you LISTEN to this!”
The remarks are so meaningful to her. I can tell. Once, I asked why this feedback means so much to her. She replied, “Because, cooking is the best way of saying ‘I love you.’”
And I can’t think of a better line to close this column.
It’s so true. It’s how I operate, especially during the holidays with my family-famous cookie gifts. I have hand-written recipes from Mom, Grandmother, and Mom’s sister, my beautiful Aunt and Godmother. Seeing their hand-writing brings them into the kitchen with me which is so precious. Mom and Grandmother had passed away and visiting my precious Aunt one day, I had a panic attack for the acquisition of her famous New York Cheesecake recipe. If you haven’t had this recipe, you haven’t lived. Anyway, I asked her to write it down for me. She would not, could not that day due to an arthritic flareup. “You snooze, you lose,” slapped me hard that day. She got out paper and pen and said, “You write it, I’ll dictate.” So I wrote her words exactly. The women in my family had a way of expressing themselves and telling stories that were engaging, inspiring, interesting, and often hilarious. Step one of Aunr Dot’s New York Cheesecake, “Beat the hell out of a pound of cottage cheese, and I mean beat it! Whip it good.” I was laughing so hard tears splattered my copy. This only egged her on to further description of the cheesecake process. I got it all down as best I could. The cheesecake, sadly, is no longer dietetically recommended, so I don’t make it very often anymore, but whenever I get out the recipe in my own hand, my beloved Aunt appears in my head and heart to dictate and kibitz the process. Recipe collections are precious souvenirs of history, family, and expressions of love.
I have my Swedish Nana’s meatball recipe she wrote for me on a 3x5 index card about 60 years ago framed & hanging in my kitchen. I see it everyday & am reminded of climbing up into her big “fluffy” lap & snuggling for what seemed like hours listening to her tell me stories of the “old country”
Now my other Granny’s recipes were never written down but the one I remember her making, or trying to make was Pecan Pie. She only made it once because she sliced 1 piece from a whole frozen store bought pie & put it on a cookie sheet, placed it in her oven & cooked it 45 minutes. She was surprised when she opened the oven door & found a massive burnt disc of pie filling! At least she tried so when I eat pecan pie now I still giggle to myself
My mom was a great cook & my daughter has some of her recipes framed & hanging on her own kitchen walls now.
Gosh, I sure to miss those three strong women in my life.
My 11 yr. old granddaughter had to write a story about her favorite things to do with her grandmother (me) for school and she wrote “I love cooking with my Nana & she makes the best biscuits. I also love to read & write just like she does” to me there is no higher compliment from a grandchild.
Love you Millie, my Sassafrassafroozie & see you later this month.