And then there's the recipe cards from my grandma. I'm not ever going to make a zucchini pie, but I'm sure as hell not throwing that recipe away. And there's the one for Grange Pups, that she wrote on the back of an envelope "because it's super secret." We made them exactly once, in her old farmhouse kitchen, using an ancient deep fat fryer that I recall being olive green. Why did we make them? Because I could never come to visit her in September, when the Grange had its stand at Olathe's Old Settler's Days, and she wanted me to try them as a treat.
God, I still miss her so much. My entire concept of what a kitchen should look like is about trying to recreate the environment of her kitchen, the place that I recall as home of most of my best childhood memories. I know there's an element of retro "fashion" (and probably silliness to some) to my wearing my 50s aprons and cooking out of these big crockery bowls, but for me, it's all about making a place that feels like home.
And then there's the odd bit of paper that reminds me of the friendships that have gone by the wayside. Look, it's the manifesto for the bookclub I founded with one of the women I used to work with at the law firm back in 98 (my email address is Juno.com, which certainly dates it!). At some point she just seemed to lose interest in me - she moved way out in the burbs and her daughter was getting older and it just seemed like her family life was taking over her social life, or maybe she actually had just become bored of me. I kept trying for a year but finally just let her slip away without fighting any more to keep the relationship alive ... it was easier than experiencing the hurt.
I did find a lot of really great recipes I'll try to post at some point - I think many of these were before newspapers were widely available online and it might be good to have them available to those of you who, say, might be intrested in more ways to cook pumpkin.