Discovering treasure

That time the mess of a failed refrigerator reconnected me with my mom and the recipe legacy she left me

I mentioned in a previous post some of the touchstones I have for this recipe-box project, points of influence and inspiration that set me on this path. I’ve been generally thinking of this as a five-years-or-so evolution sparked in part by an event I spoke at late 2019.

But really, as I was reminded recently, the genesis goes back nearly 17 years. That’s when I rediscovered the beat-up recipe folder of my mom’s and really began exploring it with fresh appreciation and curiosity. My mom had passed away in the fall of 2001 and in the course of all that sorting and organizing that happens, it was I who brought my mom’s recipe folder home.

That folder certainly held value for me back then, I was very happy to be its new caretaker. But I guess it seemed more like a memento of my mom’s to cherish as such, rather than the source of inspiration, memories, connection for me to draw from today.

So I brought my mom’s recipe folder to my house, tucked it in a high cupboard above our refrigerator, and didn’t think about it for seven or so years. Until that refrigerator died and—in the course of the messy clean-up and fridge replacement—I ventured into that high cupboard again. The subsequent re-aquaintance with the folder set off a stream of reflections and resulted in a blog post that I share below.

I just reread that post from 2008 for the first time in ages. I’m struck by a few things I mention there that echo themes that have come up in recent conversations about the treasure of recipes boxes and the richness (sometimes mysteries!) held in those collections:

• it wasn’t a recipe, exactly, but I reference notes found in the folder that my mom made on the back of a receipt for an event my parents attended; archival family history, right there among the recipes

• I have no idea who the “Helen” is to whom my mom attributes the banana bread recipe she baked for so many years; I’ve heard from so many about similar unrecognized names sometimes credited in family collections

• the fact that cookbooks sometimes become defacto “recipe boxes” with other recipes hand-written, or clipped-out recipes taped, on inside covers or other available space in the book, maybe even just recipe cards tucked among the pages

• and the sheer delight of being made to realize I had that treasure all along and just needed to make it more accessible, more present in my cooking life to keep it from being forgotten ever again.

It ends with a statement that feels quite poignant and even more meaningful to me now (italics are my emphasis here):

But this little present it’s given me, this forgotten trove, the echo of my mom’s voice through these recipes and notes? It’s the serendipity that can come from a broken down refrigerator.

So, here is what I wrote for that blog post in 2008:

It’s interesting those times in our lives when we realize a pleasant, unexpected outcome from an otherwise unpleasant event. My recent example is the untimely demise of our refrigerator. A week earlier I’d found the ice cream to be surprisingly soft and ready-to-eat, scooped my portion and happily forgot about it thanks to a few days out of town. Home again last week, I reached into the freezer for ice, only to find little sloshing puddles of water in the trays. Not to mention the larger mess gathering across the bottom of the freezer, and disarmingly tepid milk and mayonnaise in the refrigerator.

The fridge was replaced within two days and we’re back in frozen-ice-cream-and-chilled-milk contentment. But along the way, the exercise took me down a few different pathways as I cleaned and reorganized in and around the area, especially in a storage area seldom accessed above the fridge. Some were practical adjustments: I forgot I had a back-up workbowl for my Cuisinart, so trading out my well-scratched bowl, it looks suddenly like a new machine. And a couple old enamel turquoise saucepans that collected dust on top of the fridge now hang in easy reach next to the stove.

I also found a few old cookbooks that should otherwise have been with the rest of my collection. A 1946 edition of The Joy of Cooking and an original (this edition has since been re-released) 1953 Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book. Treasures, to be sure, even more so because of the notes my mother made on the crinkling, often dislodged pages, and the additional recipes she wrote or taped in the fronts and backs of the books.

And other slips of paper, notes, newspaper and magazine clippings tumble out of the books, too. I found this scrap that gives the banana bread recipe I grew up with. I’d asked my sister recently for Mom’s recipe (for years I’d used James Beard’s from his Beard On Bread book) and she was surprised that I didn’t have it. Technically I did. I just didn’t know to look in the copy of Betty Crocker’s Creative Recipes with Bisquick book, from whose pages this fell. This dates to my dad’s service at the Naval Air Station (NAS) in Barber’s Point, Hawaii in the 1950s. I’m afraid I don’t know who Helen is.

Another find from that era was notes for the 4-Day Diet, which my mom wrote on the back of a statement from the Commissioned Officer’s Mess, c/o Fleet Postmaster in San Francisco. “Payment due for Cdr. Minner’s Aloha Party, totalling $3.88, duly paid on March 10 of 1956.” I wasn’t around yet, and have long been jealous of my family’s time living in Hawaii, complete with papaya tree in the backyard. Maybe that’s why I so love the 1956 house I live in now, and why I was devoted to turning the basement into our Lava Lounge party room, complete with tangerine orange walls and vinyl records played on a turntable? Living an era I feel a once-removed connection to.

So, the refrigerator gave out on us. It was an inconvenience that changed our planned quiet evening at home into a shopping trip. And it took time from my work to-do list, vacating the old fridge for hauling away, cleaning in advance of the new delivery, etc. Not to mention the unexpected dent in the budget. But this little present it’s given me, this forgotten trove, the echo of my mom’s voice through these recipes and notes? It’s the serendipity that can come from a broken down refrigerator.

Mom’s Banana Bread (aka Helen’s Banana Bread)

1 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter, at room temperature
2 eggs
3 large ripe bananas, mashed
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
Pinch salt
1/4 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup chopped walnuts

Cream together the sugar and butter until smooth. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Stir in the mashed bananas.

Sift together the flour, baking soda and salt. Stir this into the wet ingredients, then stir in the buttermilk and walnuts.

Spoon the batter into a well greased 9-inch loaf pan and bake at 350 F until nicely browned and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 45 to 60 minutes. Set aside to cool slightly, then turn the loaf out onto a wire rack to cool completely.

Makes 1 loaf