Find below a letter from the book
Letters from Maybe. I hope it helps us get to thinking about cooking, recipes, and how our actions often come back to us, ("Cast your bread upon the waters. . . . " Ecclesiates 11:1 ) The Lenten Posts will based on recipes from the
More-with-Less Cookbook and will start on Ash Wednesday, February 13th.
Dear Mike,
Well, church got out late on Sunday. I didn’t get too much out of the last half of the sermon. What is it Carl says, “The difference between an audience and a congregation is and audience listens and a congregation doesn’t.” I will say this August more than ever I’ve been in favor of air-conditioning the church. They say it is unhealthy to sleep in stuffy rooms.
T.S. Elliot may believe April is the cruelest month, but I’m here to say it is August. At least for those of us who still enter items to be judged at the county fair. And this August was the worst ever for me as I was completely shut out of the ribbons in every category. Of course there’s a good reason why, but there I’m getting ahead of myself.
In late July I did my usual accounting in the cellar. As I plan out what I’m going to put up I always take my cookbook down with me. That way I can look at the recipes and see, for example if I’m putting up the 24 points of bread and butter pickles, how much vinegar or sugar I’ll be needing. Doing the math and making notes as I go.
At any rate as I was checking the shelves the phone rang so I hurried back upstairs. In the conversation with Coralie I forgot all about my precious cookbook still in the basement. I think I’m about up to “Z” in Alzheimer’s already.
A few days later when I needed to look up a recipe I went back downstairs looking for it and got the shock of my life. It was gone! And I mean gone!!
Well, perhaps recycled is a more accurate description. A field mouse evidently decide my cookbook would make ideal nesting material and had literally torn it to shreds. I believe it would have been more fitting ending if it had just eaten it.
Carl said you don’t usually think of a cookbook with and unhappy ending. But this was much more than a cookbook. It was my history book. I’d kept it since I was a teen-ager. And it was gone. Several of my mother’s recipes were in it, written in her hand, including her birthday cake with caramel icing. Something I still make and fortunately have entrusted to memory by now.
Also gone were my Pillsbury Bake off recipes. These are the recipes that over the years people have told me, “This is the best I’ve ever eaten!” or I must have the recipe for this, Elizabeth.” Now you know I’ve never won with any of them and at first I was quite disappointed with the judges lack of discernment. Now of course I’ve come to realize that Pillsbury was using the same judges that McDonalds has been using for their Monopoly game.
How well I still recall my first rejection letter on a sour cream cake. (Mike, you’ve eaten that cake yourself and told me how good it was). I was so agitated that quick as a wink I whipped up some basic white bread dough and fashioned a Pillsbury doughboy.
“Into the fiery furnace,” I said as I put him into the 350 degree oven.
Once done and cool enough to handle he was drawn and quartered, with butter. But not before I’d bitten his head off.
And now Mike, I’d not only lost the sour cream cake recipe- but the basic white bread recipe too. You can see why I cried for two days.
Of course, many of the recipes I’d used for the county fair were lost as well, including the aforementioned bread and butter pickles. Most of the fair entries I’d made notations on date or dates entered and which ribbon if any they’d won. The list of things I lost could fill, well - a cookbook.
Coralie actually got me on the road to recovery. She stopped by the following Saturday with a pecan coffee cake, which I realized was a recipe of mine. Along with it she’d brought the recipe and surprisingly about 30 more, that over time she’d gotten from me.
That Sunday she put out the word at church asking for people who had recipes they’d gotten from me to make copies and return them. On Monday she put the word out through town. Rex, the cook at the Busy Bee said he had over forty, which I am sure is an exaggeration. But it nice to have the recognition of your peers. I’d say 1/2 dozen former 4-H kids brought recipes from when I taught cooking and nutrition skills.
Well, by the end of the month, it was worse than a having your name at the top of a chain letter. And if truth be told many of the recipes I was receiving weren’t mine to begin with. But what a tribute that I was considered author or creator of so many good recipes. (And a few duds.) I actually believe I ended up with more that I started with.
Coralie bought me a new notebook and Carl printed up a cover that said “Seasoned With Love.” Yes, I cried for two more days. And yes, I got my basic white bread recipe back. And if you’re wondering, I couldn’t resist baking up a Pillsbury doughboy.
When he’d cooled enough, I grasped him firmly in my hand and said rather calmly, “Now I’ve got you, and now I’m gonna eat you.” and with those word I bit off his head, drew and quartered him and slathered him with butter.
Anyway, by the time I’d rebuilt the cookbook the deadline for the fair had long past so I had to content myself with dreaming about next year.
I better get this in the mail before Mr. Hurley gets here. We’re praying for you and that new congregation.
Love to all,
Elizabeth