Today, Wednesday, in Cook's Corner the topic was antique cookbooks. The section made me realize that I never saw a cookbook in our homes growing up. Not one. Of course, I was not looking for them, but I never saw my mother address a cookbook while she cooked those wonderful dishes that she prepared for events and parties at our various homes--well two different homes, we moved only twice. I don't remember hand written recipe cards either, although there probably were those because I have those written by my grandmother and Aunt Grace. The point is the antique recipe books are to the point and do not fool around with instructions like oven temperature and time. They rely on the fact that you know what you are doing and that you know how to cook in the first place so the recipes are ingredient holders No matter how old I am I learn or realize something new every day and I do wish I had written the recipes while watching my mother make homemade noodles, the fluffiest mashed potatoes, and the oozing cinnamon rolls. I remember how she could put a party together for forty or fifty of their friends after working all day at a job. I can remember her picture standing in a bed of Bachelor Buttons while holding a three-tiered wedding cake that she made for one of her friend's wedding; cakes were her specialty. I remember her cherry and nut cake and cannot replicate that taste to this day and rue the loss of her and the flavors that the memory of her evokes. Memories are a-flutter in my mind today thanks to Cook's Corner and it's editor Lisa Abraham who does such a good job of keeping this section of the Dispatch special.
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