Wednesday, 22 January 2014


These are the types of things that break my heart and mend it all at the same time. A true contradiction. 

While beginning the painful process of going through some of Other Mother's things down here in the Southern Home, I came across this.

This messed up, wrinkled, water-stained, greasy piece of paper is the doctored recipe for her famous rogelach. Her hand-written notes and alterations to the original cookbook formula are legible in the margins. I grabbed this and several other printed recipes, all containing her penmanship and comments.

The crazy part of all of this is that I have her recipe in my computer....and on my iPad...and on my iPhone. All of her variations and modifications are permanently imprinted into my longterm memory. I stood with her many times over the years in many kitchens as she attempted to teach the clumsy teenage (and not so teenage) me how to roll out the dough and cut it into perfect triangles. This recipe is unforgettable, a part of my heritage.

And yet....

This piece of faded paper means more to me than I could ever hope to convey. There is something comforting about seeing her familiar block printing. I smile at the memories. And I am starting to smile again when I think of her. Mixed with tears to be sure, but definite smiles.

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