How many times have you — the homemaker, not the housewife as today the homemaker can be any gender, married, single, with or without children — sat down to look for a special recipe you know is in this cookbook, or is it this one, maybe in this envelope …
The first thing you know the morning has somehow gotten to be afternoon, and good heavens, it’s suppertime, and you never did find that particular recipe. But you found many others that were so interesting you set them aside, even knowing they’ll not get made.
Meanwhile, throw a frozen dinner in the microwave.
Did you ever count to see how many cookbooks you have? Don’t, or you’ll be shocked. I wouldn’t dare. I have a loose-leaf with recipes carefully written – ingredients and method – just as my mother dictated them to me. The pages are a mess with splatters, That one is a goodie, showing much use.
Treasure. Here is the indispensable Joy of Cooking, first written by Irma S. Rombauer and Marion Rombauer Becker, printed in 1931 and reprinted many times over. Mine is from 1946 and tucked in its battered pages is a note from the late Esther Hamilton, longtime newspaper columnist, from her retirement home in Florida. (Why do we keep such things?) My copy is in poor shape, the spine secured with postal tape. Marking special pages for special recipes are postcards from long-gone friends.
My sister had always sent me some of her best recipes and they, along with dozens and dozens of clippings from Farm and Dairy, and all are jammed together in two envelopes on the shelves above the kitchen sink.
I could go on and on about this but I’ll save the subject until winter (dreadful word!)
Recovery. Good news! What ever was ailing Winnie’s leg has recovered enough that I am no longer sleeping on the couch and neither is she. We are back together and I know I was really getting kinked up. Just last night I tried going to bed by myself, and of her own volition, no encouragement from me, she popped up with no problem. I am thankful as she is my heart’s pillow.
You would think that since Joe and Marilyn Mick of Natick, Mass., (my nephew and his sweet wife) and I talk on the telephone every Sunday morning, we would have nothing to talk about when they come for their annual visit. Think again. The conversation never lagged when they were here last week. Winnie adores them both — they have a beloved Basset, Lydia — and even silly Bingo hurls herself at Joe’s feet.
Joe and Marilyn — mostly Marilyn — clip wonderful articles from The Boston Globe which are a pleasure to read, and I’ll use some of them when the snow is drifting (what an awful thought!)
Volunteers needed. The Buckeye Horse Park is hoping for more volunteers, as the weather and the economy — what economy? — have hit the park drastically, says Judy Davisson, president.
“Only a handful of members runs the shows that are the main financial support, and unless volunteerism does not increase dramatically, our only options are to cancel some shows and let the park close for good when the funds run out,” Davisson said.
How about it, Farm and Dairy horse people?
