I have always admired people who seem to have a treasure of trove of recipes handed down from generation to generation, removed carefully from a checkered binder, spoken of reverently with family members, always in hushed tones.

My family recipes resemble more a squirrel's nest of stained papers, scribbled index cards and ripped magazine pages tucked away in a high-school girl's binder! But, as I look through it today, I realize that it actually is a kind of treasure trove for me, sacred traditions and memories of myself as a girl, a wife, and mother. I have held on to some of these recipes for over 40 years, some of them only for the memories they bring. 

Before I share some of these recipes, however, let me show a picture of the thing that started it all -- a simple unassuming bowl that my husband recently tried to use to mix something toxic in, at which point I shouted, with great emotion, "No! Not that bowl!" And then I sat down and recalled why this one bowl was so important to me which is when this recipe reverie began.

Because this bowl is actually something almost sacred to me for the memories of years and years of homemade tuna salad made and kept in it by my mother. I especially remember looking at it in the cool of a refrigerator on hot summer nights in a house in Virginia with no air conditioning. Not only did my mother make wonderful tuna salad, cold and creamy in the fridge, it also serves as a reminder to my older sister, Sherry, and her best friend, Sue, of what a sweet and generous woman our mother was. 

When Sherry had friends sleep over at our house on Fridays in the 60s, my mother would regularly make not one but three kinds of tuna salad -- one the normal way, one where she removed the chopped onion for Sherry, and one where she removed the hard-boiled eggs for Sue.  

"To do this," my sister writes, "she first made a big bowl of tuna + celery + Miracle Whip + salt. She put serving-size portions of that mixture in separate bowls for Sue and for me. Finally she added chopped onion + chopped egg to the big bowl -- and chopped onion to Sue's small bowl -- and chopped egg to my bowl -- plus a little more Miracle Whip if needed to all of the bowls. When she "plated" the meal, she took the tuna out of the appropriate bowl for each person. AND... she never made a big deal out of it. " That was my mother and that was the bowl. 

Artwork: by The Spruce Eats. (Unfortunately the tuna salad lives only in our memories but this can serve as a representative picture.)

I also have memories of this same bowl being used when I would "help" my mother with making chocolate frosting for family birthday cakes. I would stand next to her, holding tight to the shaking bowl, entranced by the whir of the beaters, waiting for my chance to lick the frosting from them. Ah, the simple pleasures in life! 

Artwork: by Click Americana. (Ditto - see above)

Speaking of my mother, this is the only recipe I have of hers in her handwriting. She passed away when I was 19 so this one is especially precious to me.

This one, despite its name, was not a recipe of my father's. (The only thing I ever remember him cooking is gumbo and ribs on the grill. ) No, this "Daddy's Eggnog" recipe was shared with me by the daughter of the man who owned the electrical contracting company where I had my first non-professional job in 1981. We would throw Christmas parties in the warehouse for all the workmen with this eggnog served. I don't think we've ever made it ourselves (egads, the calories!) but I keep it as a reminder of my first "work family."

This one is a recipe card my sister Robin gave to me when I had my first apartment.  It was a real favorite (as you can see by the stains) mostly because it was completely easy and foolproof!

This is a picture of the Good Housekeeping cookbook I received as a gift at my wedding shower in 1984. It becomes more precious to me as time goes by -- mostly because it's what my husband uses every time he makes our favorite Sunday morning breakfasts!

I have kept these scribbled recipes for two reasons: The one on the left, torn from a USA Today notepad, as a reminder of my first professional job and the one on the right because of my daughter Katie's rendering of meatballs. (Katie is now 34.) These also both remind me of the feckless task of getting my Italian mother-in-law's recipe for anything since she never made it the same way twice and only goes by feeling and what's in the fridge.

My Aunt Nora wasn't always the most pleasant relative to come visit but we did love her pralines -- a Graham family tradition at Chrismas. 

Another Christmas tradition was my sister Sherry's chex mix - the best!  This one says "Original" because, last year, she tried making it with a healthier recipe and it wasn't nearly as good. I asked her to send me one from the old days.

My husband likes to say that my family likes talking only about desserts when planning a meal and perhaps that's true. I certainly have a lot of cake and cookie recipes. On the left is one for Peanut Butter Blossoms which Katie wanted me to include in her Elementary School's cookbook one year. It's a tradition that we make these together for Christmas. They don't taste nearly as good without her.  The second recipe is from a friend of my mother-in-law's which we have used for years and years. It says "Swedish cookies" but we call them "Russian teacakes." I have no idea why.  This one is particularly bittersweet to look at right now because this friend passed away last month. I'm glad her recipe will live on.

I keep this Raspberry Jello recipe not only because we make it every Thanksgiving and Christmas in lieu of cranberry sauce but also because it reminds me of leaving the original recipe at my sister Robin's house in Nebraska one year and she had to send it to me over email -- which was a very new invention at the time. :) This was almost 25 years ago and my sister still has the same AOL email address!

Lastly, this recipe card is one of my most recent additions. It is a reminder of how my husband and I attemped to make perfect Negronis during the start of the pandemic -- which tells you a lot about how we spent our time in March 2019.

As I close this post, I am gratefully struck by how wrong I was to feel sad over not having a book of recipes carefully assembled from generations of family kitchens. What I do have, however, is an almagam of memories of a life spent happily around a table with family and friends. I know everyone has their own sacred memories of being in the kitchen - hopefully this will stir you to gather some of your own.