It’s been sitting on a shelf in our house’s only walk-in closet. Ah, priorities. Family archives are far more important than clothes and shoes.

When Gary and I packed up Mom and Dad’s kitchen in 2021, most of the cookbooks went to Becky, Dave’s culinary daughter supreme. But one cookbook I remembered well from childhood. It was in a large ziploc bag, as the cover was no longer attached.

That one, I took home.

Dad had filled me in that the family’s original cookbook was a gift presented to Mom in 1952, at the bridal shower her college chums gave her.

The Good Housekeeping Cook Book is more than a thousand pages long (the Index, from Sliced cucumber pickles on, is missing – along with the back cover and spine). Published in 1949, it boasts of including the most modern cooking methods.

Oh, and there’s lots of advice for the wife-to-be. Here are just a few tips:

• Don’t wait until you get to market to plan your meals.
• A pad and pencil hanging in kitchen is a great help in jogging your memory before the last of any staple is used up.
• Do not attempt to keep a detailed account of food expenditures every month. Rather do so for two or three months now and then.
• Be fussy about the market vegetables you buy, for the longer they are held, the more vitamins they lose.

There’s also a rather detailed discussion of the different types of lard, which made me nauseous. I’ll spare you.

Flipping through the pages, some are bookmarked with scraps of paper and sticky notes. Mom could then easily find the recipe for Mincemeat Pie this time of year. Also, how to preserve fresh vegetables (Dad loved to garden).

And then … this oft-used recipe:

I must admit I’ve sat here mulling over where to include this photo – it’s gross! But it is the brownies recipe that delighted Mom’s husband and children for more than half a century. It’s part of our history.

What is not part of our culinary history, though, is that suggestion near the bottom of the page to add 3/4 cup mixed, cut-up pitted dates to the batter. (That makes me queasier than the lard description!)

Here is a seasonal poem Mom cooked up for us:

Cornucopia: For Thanksgiving, 1971

Cape Cod bayberry candles on the shelf,
and decisions I make in spite of myself.

Two goldfish swimming (one nearly died),
a winter jacket with cuffs inside.

A lobster dinner in seacoast Maine,
and the cellar dry in November rain.

Books and music and pencils going,
children and summer vegetables growing.

A day in the country, a day in town,
and being able to write it all down.

~ Joan Vayo ~ November 18, 1971

Even with the detached cover and food-speckled pages, this cookbook from so long ago continues to bring comfort to a grown daughter, still lonely for her mom.

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“Cornucopia: For Thanksgiving, 1971” ©1971  Joan Vayo. All rights reserved.

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