The Cookbook

Well, well, well. It I didn’t get on a tear as soon as I got up.

Egad. I sipped the ‘opening of the blinds,’ and getting my tea ready.

So what did Miss Idiot do?

Remember that I redid my pantry and cabinets a few months ago? I Martha Stewarted the kitche, organizing and reorganizing.

Nick and I have been discombobulated, since. Add to that, the addition of more baking supplies, specialty flours, all sorts of chocolate, some new baking dishes, etc.

So Miss Idiot, without thinking, began grabbing pans that had been placed in the pantry, [ut them on the counter, and then grabbed canned goods and took them out of the cabinets and schlepped them back into the pantry. I took all of my tea out of one pullout drawer and onto the counter and switched my baking supplies … well … some of my baking supplies. I could actually use a pantry for that.

The silly thing is that when we moved in two years ago, in April, we had some empty cabinets and shelves.

Aye, yi-yi.

After about 20 minutes of gale force movements, including throwing in a load of laundry and emptying the dishwasher, I decided it was tea time and time to get a plan. Nick is still asleep. When he gets up and comes out of the bedroom, I think I will hideout in the garage so that I do not have to answer questions that I have no answers to.

Or, I can simply look at him with that goofy smile on my face that says, “Well you married me.”

And then … I was taking photos of my disaster area … the counter, when I looked down and saw my Better Homes and Garden cookbook.

It is the cookbook that helped me learn how to cook. It has made the move with us wherever we have moved.

I opened it to the front. The pages are stained in chocolate and butter, oil and fingerprints.

And love.

I stopped. On the top of the contents page, was written – 1988 Happy Birthday Mom – Love Andrea and Dad.

About ten or so pages in the three ring book are loose, pulled from their pages after years of use.

I did the math. Andrea was born in 1979. She must have been 9 years-old.

Immediately, my mind went back to see Andrea at 9. And that opened the memory box to all sorts of Andrea memories.

Rarely, do I mention my kids names in my posts. They are adults. They have gone through the years when they were young, when what they did was fodder for my weekly writings in a newspaper column.

But as children grow into adults, they deserve their privacy and the opportunity to tell their story, only if they choose to do so. So, I try very hard to keep that separation of church and state.

Seeing that he handwritten words of a 9-year old, simply turned back time in my mind.

It is fitting that Andrea gave me this cookbook, as she has turned into a wonderful cook and baker. WE had a laugh after her visit a couple of weeks ago.

While here she put together cookie dough for me to bake into cookies, which I distributed to eighbors who took part in our little food drive. She said it was her ‘secret’ recipe.

And then she gave me the recipe.

A couple of days later, I told her that I had made chocolate chip cookies. She asked if I used the secret recipe. I told her ‘Yes. Sort of.’

“Well, I added a couple of things,” I said, meaning nuts and something else, which I can’t remember.

We laughed as we debated whether they were really the special cookies, then. “You know I don’t follow directions,” I said.

We laughed.

But I am not sure she will give me another ‘secret’ recipe.



2 Comments Add yours

  1. Pingback: Life Without a Map
    1. Susan DeBow says:

      WE have a loud fan in the bedroom, the door was closed, and I tried not to clink and clank.


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