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Cookbook

For Christmas this year, I am giving Syd a cookbook. He has long told me that when I die, he wants the spiral notebooks in which I glue or tape recipes I have cut out from magazines and newspapers or have mooched from friends and relatives. Between now and then, I figure he might want to cook. So I’ve been typing up recipes.

I began, as one would expect, at the beginning. It’s kind of a trip back through time to a person I used to be. Back then, I cut out a lot of pasta recipes. I was more or less a vegetarian, so I haven’t typed up anything particularly meaty yet. I was also busy. There aren’t notes and comments like I write in the notebooks now, presumably because I didn’t have time. Although it is also possible that I didn’t know what to write. I was still learning to cook back then.

I plan to include, in a separate section, all the recipes that Rick’s mom put together for me as a shower gift. She typed them up, slid them into page protectors, and labeled the binder after a sign she used to have in her kitchen: “Kissin’ Don’t Last. Cookin’ Do.” I have no information on the quality of her kissing, but her cooking is darn good.

I hope that the double dose of recipes and family history will help nourish both Syd’s body and heart.

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