Yesterday I winnowed through my packed, messy recipe box. I saved some old cards for sentiment’s sake. I know I will never again make Tuna Stack Pie–a stack of crepes layered with curried tuna. I made it for John (because he likes tuna fish!) when we were first married, and it became something of a familyÂ joke. The Tuna Stack Pie card stayed.
But I tried to be fairly ruthlessÂ and culled the recipes I have never made and never will make. At some point in the early ’80’s, for example, I apparently thought Fruit Leather sounded likeÂ a good idea.Â That card isÂ gone now, along with John’sÂ Granola, another dated, “healthful” item. In fact, John doesn’t like granola and never has and I haveÂ no idea how that recipe got its name.
These items, unappetizing though they are, pulled at my heartstrings.Â Those recipes have satÂ in that box for twenty or thirty years,Â where I’d always thumb past them toÂ find theÂ recipes for sugar cookies and pie dough that I’ve made over and over again.
I’ve seen thatÂ Fruit Leather card a hundred times. Like all old objects, those recipes represented the past,Â and I already miss them a little.
Yep. There’s sentiment attached to them.
Let me begin by saying I am not a cook. So when I had to sort through my mom’s recipes I thought I would toss all of them but for sentimental reasons I kept quite a few. Have I tried any of them yet? Of course not! But knowing they are there waiting for me to try some day is somehow comforting to me.