But I still appreciated her desire to expand her skills and our palates. We all tried her infamous turducken one Christmas - a turkey stuffed with a duck and then spicy sausage. She was willing to break away from the conventional turkey and I realize I get that from her too. It was remarkable and delicious and absolutely unheard of for Christmas dinner. Fragrant rice stuffing piled in the center of the crown pork roast and little white paper frills were perched on each of the crown rib bones. Eight! I remember the first crown roast she dazzled us with one Christmas. I found eight crown roast recipes in the Meat section. Her recipes for her famous fish soup, tomato salad with tequila dressing, brisket, pot roast, moussaka (the first time I ate it was at her table), butter tarts without raisins, hamburger sausage and smoked chicken drumsticks were all in their proper categories. The recipe folder felt like a diary of sorts. When you offered her something delicious- she’d take a small bite, lightly smack her lips and think about it for a second and then hopefully say, “Perfect!” And if you didn’t hit the mark - you got a raised eyebrow and a wrinkled nose. My aunt was a terrific cook and she loved to try new recipes. I know whatever has been cooked from this folder - forget about America’s Test Kitchen - if my persnickety aunt thought the recipes were the best, I know they will be. I gave her bags of them I found in thrift stores and she’d phone and tease me about ripping out all the good stuff. I know she read hundreds of magazines and ripped out the pages. And her beat-up recipe folder makes me happy as I know her hands were all over it. I know if a recipe is in this folder - it is the best.īut today I need comfort from my aunt. My aunt was ruthless at weeding out the unworthy. The accordion folder doesn’t bulge with tried and untried recipes. When we packed my aunt’s house (which felt like I was intruding on her private life) - I made sure to grab the old recipe folder she kept close by in her kitchen. They are old, yet cheery looking and both of us found them in a thrift store. I spotted the recipe folders that are twins - one is mine and the other my aunt’s. I went to the bookcase devoted to my collection of old and new cookbooks. The itch to cook something without going to the store had set in. Snow fell softly, my husband was puttering in the garage and my lovely werewolf dog and I were taking it easy. Truth be told - I’ve avoided it for almost two years.īut it was a Sunday meant for cooking. It has sat amongst my cookbooks waiting patiently. I hadn’t looked at my aunt’s recipe folder since the day we packed up her house a few months after she died. My beloved aunt is gone but her recipe folder gives me solace.
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