I venture to say that all parents leave some sort of impression on their children. Good or bad, if a parent is present, something gets passed along. My experience there is not unique.
Most people who have even a mild interest in cooking collect recipes with which they have achieved success. They are the go-to recipes for good-tasting creations that garner guest approval. Again, not a unique experience.
This past weekend my wife and I were going through her own recipe collection to make selections for an upcoming party. Seeing her clipped and annotated collection reminded me of my father’s, stored away in a memory box in the basement.
Dad loved to cook and bake. Within our family and circle of friends he was recognized for several creations: cake donuts, whipped cream and banana cake, and vanilla ice cream. Many of my best memories of time spent with my dad involve me sitting on a counter top “helping” him (I developed a special skill in the beater-licking department).
The brief article above was published in his company’s employee magazine more than 60 years ago, in August, 1953. At that time I suppose it was a novel idea for a man to be in the kitchen, and baking no less. It was the common everyday of my dad for me.
My dad, who never went to school, had the most basic of reading skills and wrote with a crude, block print, recorded his recipes on scraps of paper. As the article above states, he kept the records of his kitchen work in a wooden box. In the 1960s he transferred that collection to a small binder. By the early 1970s that binder was overflowing and he moved to a larger one.
We RV camped a lot and he wanted a recipe book just for camping: a collection of recipes that were suited for whipping up in the outback. Our RV was a Terry model so he called the cookbook Mrs. Terry.
The Mrs. Terry cookbook was Intended to be a small collection. Over time, however, it simply became home to the overflow of items that would not fit in the main book.
Today as I peruse dad’s collection I remember the hours spent cooking with him, the flavor and texture of his donuts, the rich vanilla-infused whipped cream of his whipped cream and banana cake and the brain-freezing joy of his hand-churned ice cream.
The haphazard collection of clipped and hand-written recipes, complete with misspellings, errors and marginal commentary reaffirms my dad’s kitchen legacy and the man, and foodie, I’ve become.
My meager collection of recipes is on a computer, I’m more likely to wing-it when I’m cooking, watching cooking programs on TV is how I like to relax and I’m a sucker for a cool kitchen gadget. All thanks to my dad’s legacy.
(Click on an image for a larger view).
A photo shot for the magazine article.
A photo shot for the magazine article.
A photo shot for the magazine article.
A photo shot for the magazine article.
A photo shot for the magazine article.
Dad’s primary recipe collection.
The Mrs. Terry cookbook.
This isn’t going to be pretty!
Each alphabetic section has its own index.
This recipe originated with Better Homes and Gardens. Dad rewrote it to group preparation methods together.
Complete with arrows, boxes, and instructions here, there and everywhere, somehow he made it work.
The index page for Section C indicates recipes that had been removed. They simply didn’t stand the test of time.
Any scrap of paper, even a union Absentee Notice card, could be put to use.
Dad went to the effort to measure the temperature output of the “Left front burner on medium.” 300°F
Dad proudly pasted the “professional” recipe along with his notes for “fixing” it.
In case you wondered, this was the “good” donut recipe.
Another donut recipe. Good? Passable? Decent? We’re left to wonder.
When our strawberry patch produced, this freezer jam recipe would be put to use.
Oooh, these pancakes are not only “very good” but they’re also “Great for camping!”
I can not convey to you how amazingly delicious dad’s pickled watermelon was.
This recipe page shows the remnants of ancient cello-tape. This one was also a winner — even for camping in the woods!
Dad’s dandelion wine. I sure did not enjoy my job of dandelion harvester.
And then there was wine from the bitter and tart rhubarb plant.
The importance of dad’s recipe book is proved by the back pages which include vital information about his kids and grand-kids.
Further evidence of the place his recipe book held in his life, more family birthdates.
Seriously, how many family recipe collections include blood types and dates of military service? Leonard Kuehn’s did!
Oh, let’s not forget the names and addresses of distant family members not seen for decades!