Cookbooks

My cooking classes are about to begin. I'm looking forward to sharing my love of good vegetarian food. Preparing for the classes meant combing through dozens of recipes and writing down my own. What would we do without the cookbooks? We're so accustomed to having a reference for every kind of food and dish imaginable. I know it wasn't always that way, of course. My mom has a couple of old cookbooks written in Italian. They date back to the early 20th century. My grandmother and great grandmother would consult them every now and then. While recipes and cookbooks are not created equal, there's something about a drawing or picture and a list of ingredients that's exciting. I think it's the anticipation of what might be when everything comes together. There is an alchemy to the whole thing that I find fascinating.

Last night I just finished Julia Child's book, My Life in France. It's a marvelous book, full of great stories and humor. When I turned the last page, however, I was filled with melancholy. She had such a vibrant life, filled with many joys and sorrows. I can't put my finger on the sadness I was feeling, and there are remnants of it still today. Perhaps I'm thinking of my ancestors and their love for life. They, too, brought friends and family together with great meals. I didn't know my grandmother, she died when I was a baby - maybe I'm missing that connection...

I understand the need to have time honored recipes written so that future generations have access to the traditions and wisdom of another time. Preserving the recipes helps my soul stay connected to something larger than myself - my human family on Earth, and helps give meaning to my life.

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