Cookbooks

I have mentioned my maternal grandmother's recipe box a few times already, but I thought I'd share a picture of it.  Just for posterity, you know.

Food is important to me.  My vast waistline will confirm this.  But beyond the sensory enjoyment of flavor and fullness, I enjoy food as a primary feature of life and culture.  I love the emotive way it connects past, present and future.  Obviously, our physical bodies can't live without it.  But food, and the memories and feelings that surround it, nourishes our soul as well.

This is about half of my collection.

Over the years I have amassed a large collection of cookbooks.  I particularly enjoy historical cookbooks.  I like learning about how food has impacted cultures around the world, and how culture has impacted food production and consumption.  How food, or its absence, has affected the growth of civilizations. 

Three of my favorites.

I think historical cookbooks also appeal to my cold-war-child self.  Gotta know how to grow and preserve like in ye olden times, in case the Russian nukes arrive.  Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but that doesn't really matter to our subconscious now, does it?

On the left, a 1946 copy of Joy of Cooking.

I also have my paternal grandmother's cookbooks.  I took these after she passed away.  I wished I had kept more of her things, but I was just 22 and didn't think so at the time.  At least I had the foresight to keep these.

Just like any good cookbook, they are well-worn and filled with hand-written notes and recipes.  Alas, I couldn't find the recipe for her infamous crescent rolls.

My older sister enjoyed drawing girls in dresses.

They are also filled with something else.  When I first opened them, I found a collection of carefully folded artwork from her grandchildren - my brother, two sisters and me.

Once on the bridge, you can never get off.

Here is a particularly artistic rendering of the London Bridge from my older brother Bob, circa 1970.  He may have drawn it from memory - my family lived in England from 1964 to 1971.  The stationery shows the name of 'Charles H Tacoma', my great grandfather, who died in 1963.  

Apparently my grandmother liked to keep family mementos as well.