I am alone this evening, sorting old recipes while “the men”
(husband, son, grandson) gallivant around The City - first to take in a movie
and dinner, and then to shop for ice fishing supplies. It is a quiet, uninterrupted time of
perspective for me, of handling stained recipe cards written in my mother’s
handwriting, of reentering random phases of life ranging from tuna casserole
and goulash (1970’s) to Kale Salad and Butternut Squash Soup (21st
century).
The real treasures are a handful of battle-scarred recipes dating back two generations with instructions for things like butterscotch pie, prune cake, and date filled cookies.


Handling these fragile remnants carefully, I'm reminded of my own passage through periods of fad desserts. I
remember angel food cake layered with pudding and lots of
Cool Whip. Also fruit cobbler made
with canned pie filling and Jiffy cake mix.
How far we've come! One current recipe for white cupcakes uses coconut flour and agave nectar. And
another for raw chocolate fudge calls for dates, raw almond butter, and
pulverized cocoa beans.
What might someone think upon discovering my recipes many
years from now? What will she be creating in her kitchen? Will my favorites be obsolete? Will she be making anything at all from scratch, or will her food be
commercially pre-prepared and come to her locked behind shrink-wrapped plastic?
I wonder.
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