Scraps of paper in my kitchen: ‘It’s not just a recipe’

I opened the small cupboard above my stove and was immediately met by a flutter of papers falling on my head. I felt as though I was in Times Square at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s when the confetti cannons were shot off!

Scattered all around me were handwritten recipe cards and recipes written on scraps of paper which had fallen out of the folder they were kept in. As I picked up all the recipes from the floor, I was reminded how my husband had suggested I go digital with my recipes — keeping them in a computerized file rather than haphazardly placed in a file folder in an equally cluttered cupboard. I also remembered why I turned his suggestion down.

Deep Roots

By Whitney Nesse

available: an envelope with a recipe on it.

Last year, I had the joy of sitting at my mother’s kitchen table and going through her recipe cards with her. We laughed and cried while shuffling through the recipes, recalling people and places.

One of the recipes my mother possesses has a note written on it, in a child’s handwriting, which reads, “Mom, Ange is being mean.” My mother laughed as she told the story of the note. She was on the telephone, and one of us kids needed her attention. So rather than interrupting her call, one of us (which one she could not remember) wrote her a note to let her know that our sister, Ange, was being mean.

I thoroughly enjoy a new cookbook. I like sitting down and paging through the books, picking out recipes my family might enjoy, and looking at the delicious pictures. But there is nothing I like more than a handwritten recipe from a loved one.

Looking at recipe cards, or recipes written on strange pieces of paper, is like paging through history. I can remember who gifted me the recipe, what was going on in my life at the time (good or not-sogood) and whether it was a “keeper!” For example, one of my recipes for refrigerator pickles is written on an old envelope, and on the back is a list of times. The times are listed because I was counting the minutes between contractions when I was pregnant with my second child. I remember Karl and I were sitting at our dining room table, playing a game, when I decided to time the contractions I was having. So I reached for the only piece of paper

My mother and I chuckled as we looked at the recipe for a Swedish Rice Ring in my grandma Lorraine’s handwriting. No one in our family liked Swedish Rice Rings, but my grandma always made them, and the recipe is kept nonetheless.

The most cherished recipes I have are the ones handwritten by loved ones. The ones my grandmothers wrote in their squiggly cursive that my kids cannot read are a piece of our heritage. My Grandma Sanken’s handwriting was swift, curvy and light — just like a former school teacher’s should be. In contrast, my Grandma Payne’s handwriting was tiny, angular, and painful, which matched the arthritis in her joints. My recipe for Ranch Beans gives a sample of my mother’s exquisite handwriting — beautiful cursive written so clearly you could read it from a mile away. Recipes written by my neighbor (lovingly known to us as Grandma Pat) are in both cursive and print — usually adorned with a smiley face sticker — and are thoughtful, just like she is.

When I charge one of my children to pull out a recipe for me, I tell them what to look for. For example, my recipe for Special K bars is written on scrap paper with “Hudson Physicians” at the top. Or my recipe for sugar cookies is photocopied. On one side is the Sanken recipe, and on the other is the Payne version. I can picture each of them!

Is it any wonder that Christ and the founders of the early church put such an emphasis on eating together? Or that current research suggests families who sit down to eat together every week are more strongly bonded? Eating together with family and friends is a holy activity … and the recipes have to come from somewhere!

When I reflect on the recipes I have been given, it triggers a thankfulness in me. I am thankful for my son (even though the contractions I recorded on the refrigerator pickle recipe fizzled). I am grateful for my longest friendship when I look at my BBQ beef recipe in her handwriting. I am thankful for my neighbor, who has been like another grandma to my family. I am grateful for my grandparents and parents, who raised me the best they could. Finally, I am thankful for a heritage of hard-working, meat and potatoes-eating people who depended on the Lord.

For now, I will skip going digital with my recipes. Instead, I will stroll through history when I shuffle through recipes.

Whitney Nesse is a sixth-generation livestock farmer who is deeply rooted in her faith and family. She writes from her central Minnesota farm. v