Since I was a young, I started collecting family recipes, recipes from magazines and various different cookbooks. Of greatest interest to me are “heritage” recipes. Over the years, my collection has grown. Friends who know of my obsession towards recipes have acquired recipe boxes from estate and yard sales. I’ve even acquired a few for myself off of Ebay. Thus far, I’ve acquired 20 boxes chock full of hand-written recipes dating as far back as 1910. Some of them are awesome… others, not so much. I’m not eager to test the “meat Jell-O” recipe I found. I think I’ll give that one a pass. It’s too 1950s.
Mostly, I enjoy recreating—or trying to, comfort food that I remember as a kid.
I realize it sounds a bit odd—but I reminisce over recipes as any other person would over old family photos. Perhaps it reflects the fact that growing up—a huge part of our ‘together’ time revolved around food. Living on a working farm with a plethora of producing fruit trees, our extended family gathered to harvest, can, make cider or pies to freeze. Then there were holidays, birthdays and associated celebratory meals—and the preparations surrounding all of it. All of them created wonderful memories that have lingered over the years. Personally, I enjoy remembering my family’s vitality through those moments when we gathered together to offer each other sustenance rather to revisit the frailty of illness or aging that can be apparent through photos.
Unlike my childhood where I associated great memories with great food, my children will mostly remember our “good times” by my blunders in the kitch. We measure how much fun we had by the number of stitches I receive or how expensive the repair job will cost to fix. We’ve had some real humdingers. Thankfully, I’m a decent cook. Still, my sons will remind me, ‘Remember when you blew up the microwave?’ As much as I hate to admit it, in the culinary world, I’m Lucy and Ethel combined into one person.
Other interesting tidbits about myself….
I’m a single mom to two teenaged boys and a girl who just started school.
I’m a movie buff—but I’m odd in how I like to watch them. I always wear flannel pajama bottoms and a hoodie with head covered—while lying on the couch with a warm blanket. Unless I’m in the theater, I don’t snack that much. The exception being if there’s Milk Duds in the house, they beg to be eaten during a movie. I like all sorts of movies—but my favorites are the kind of movie that makes you think—or offer some insight into historical events.
I don’t watch that much TV. When I do it’s while I’m cleaning and I’m usually watching the food channel. I adore Alton Brown and Paula Deen. I also will indulge in an occasional documentary or crime show. I know more than any 42 year old woman ought to know about universe, the censored books of the Bible or the seedy undergrowth of society. I would find it awesome to learn more about our indigenous people, though.
I do not like shopping unless I’m looking for something specific or something that I need. Shopping then becomes more of a challenge to find the exact thing that I’m looking for. Then it becomes interesting. Sometimes, I will partake of shopping in repurposing stores. The challenge then becomes finding a jewel amongst a lot of crap. I obtained my trusty crock pot that way—the same one I’ve used almost weekly for 8 years. Not bad for $5. Current challenge: a Lodge cast iron chicken fryer and/or Dutch oven. I will always gladly accept assistance in this endeavor.
I’m not tied to any need to be fashionable. Jeans, t-shirts, hoodies or pajama pants suit me just fine. My hair is always a mess—even when I try to do it nicely, it’s still a mess. I’ve just learned to accept that my hair is just obstinate.
I am a knitter. Primarily, my creations are of the knitted dish cloth or scarf made to order. I knitted several Christmas stockings. Gussets stink—but once done, there’s the sense of satisfaction knowing that I didn’t screw up. I will never knit a pair of socks. EVER.
I call my food preparation area “the kitch”. Yeah, it rhymes. The reason for such a name is most of the general population of the US have larger closets than this space. It’s so small much of my storage for this particular area has been relegated to a linen closet that’s been outfitted with shelves. At any rate, to find something in a state of ill repair inside said area is not uncommon. I rent and the landlord is none too eager to fix what is broken. That is why I call the kitchen, “the kitch” and my landlord something completely different.
I have no pets at the moment—but I know people who do. I have a heart leafed Philodendron that I’ve tried to kill on many occasions—but it won’t die. It’s the first ever zombie plant.
I have a tendency of collecting things—like handmade Christmas ornaments, candles, assorted lotions, mascara, double ply mega-roll toilet paper, cleaning products and just recently started collecting pretty plates. (Not the souvenir plates that hung on my grandparents’ wall… functional dinner plates that I think are “pretty”.) I have a pretty hefty collection of dryer lint in an empty laundry detergent box. One never knows if someone could use it. No, I’m not a hoarder. One could never have enough cleaning products, toilet paper, mascara or dryer lint.
