Recipe Boxes

Something came up today that made me think about recipe boxes. You know those heirloom collections of handwritten recipes on index cards? I didn’t inherit my grandmother’s cooking skills, but I did wind up with her recipe boxes. And I’m fairly sure that at least a few of the recipes go back to my great

No, Really. It’s Butter.

I actually can cook, when I feel like it, and when I’m paying attention, and this week, I’ve had the time to do it. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and usually… well, a protein bar and a vitamin pill counts, right? No. Apparently not. I’ve spent the last week scrambling eggs

Matchmaker, Matchmaker… I Don’t Know How To Can

I don’t know a thing about canning, and this renders me completely unsuitable for marriage of any kind. The older women in my neighborhood are horrified. I’m sure you’ve had the conversation: Older Friend: My wonderful son is getting out of prison after a lengthy sentence involving a misunderstanding about him cutting his horrible wife

%d bloggers like this: