College daughter is already looking ahead to moving to the on-campus apartment complex next year. For the first time, she will have a kitchen of her own. She'll have to share it with her roommate, but she is already convinced that her food choices will be way better this way than what she's had from her campus cafeteria lately.
So as I've enjoyed more time to cook this spring break (and more people to cook for), she's been noting what seems tasty and easy, and asking for the recipes.
Last year, on a whim, I purchased a recipe binder on sale, with plenty of varied inserts and cards. College girl knows that I bought it for her, for this very moment. The easy way to start her collection would be to scan the cookbook pages and print them.
I want her to have good memories of the food, though, and the love that goes into preparing meals for others. I want her to experience what I do, when I read my mother's recipes that she wrote in her beautiful longhand script. Those, I will copy for her, so that the legacy continues. And this generation's recipes will be written in my hand.
My children will inherit my cookbooks some day, and will see the stars and tweaks and caveats that I wrote in them. Until then, the binders will suffice. May the food they cook nourish body and soul.
|One of four shelves of cookbooks|
|Newspaper clipping of my paternal grandmother, with my mother's notes|
|My mother's handwritten recipes|