Recipes That Feed the Soul

When I moved away to Texas nearly 30 years ago, I asked my mom to write down her recipes for my favorite foods.  I wanted to be able to make her apple pie and lasagne and summer salad and potato soup and so many other dishes that she so effortlessly put on our table.  Mom was an excellent cook, and I aspired to be like her one day.  I made a list of recipes I wanted, and at some point, Mom copied them down for me.  I can imagine her sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by her cookbooks and recipe cards, carefully writing down the ingredients for her best meals. She made sure to put the name of the recipe, her name, how many it served and often put a smiley face at the end or wrote "Good luck!" after.  She enclosed each card in a plastic sleeve to keep the recipe free from splashes.  When she was finished, I had about 20 of my favorite recipes in a small plastic box ready for my trip to adulthood.

I referred to those recipes often.  We didn't have the internet to look up new ways of preparing pasta or chicken, so it was either those little note cards or one of the two cookbooks she got me: Where's Mom Now That I Need Her? or the tried and true Betty Crocker's Cookbook.

As I ventured out into life, I would come across delicious dishes at company cookouts or officers' wives' potlucks.  I'd often ask for the recipe for those foods and added the cards to my box.

While stationed in Texas, the parting gift when a woman left 1/8 CAV with her husband was a wooden recipe box with Texas bluebonnets painted on the front, and each officer's wife would add her favorite recipe to the box.  By the time I left, the commanding officer was single, and the tradition had floundered.  I did get the bluebonnet recipe box but no recipes from the other women.  Didn't matter.  I had my favorites ready to go inside when I got it home.  I have added to that box over the years, and it now contains all of my favorite foods written by hand by the women I've loved.

Of course, there are Mom's recipes, added to over the years, when I called her for how to make party mix or spaghetti sauce or a particular cheese ball.  She'd write down the ingredients and the steps and put it in the mail the next day.  I have Aunt Jeri's butter mints recipe.  (How many showers did I help roll those out for?  I can still remember pressing them down with a fork and hoping they didn't break in the process...)  Amy McDonald's sugar cookie recipe.  Hands down,  The.  Best.  Ever.  Julie Dalton's Swiss Pie that became Jack Pie by accident and a family favorite.  Cheryl Hahn's banana bread that I always use when my bananas get over ripe.  Betty Weber's sweet potato casserole, a staple at Thanksgiving...The best of so many women is in this little box.

With today's technology, it's so easy to pop open the laptop and google how to make anything.  There are always pictures, videos, and reviews for each amazing option.  I even have a folder on my computer with my favorite recipes, and I add to it all the time, but it's not the same.

Some of the recipes in my box were written nearly 30 years ago.  Mom's been gone almost 14 years, and I haven't seen Julie or Cheryl or Amy in 25 years, but  I can put a face with the handwriting on the card and remember when those dishes fed me body and soul.  Sure I can find anything I want to cook on the internet, but there's nothing like opening up my bluebonnet recipe box and thumbing through all of the cards inside, seeing the handwriting of the women who've filled my life with good food and good friendship and making those dishes and thinking of them.