The Recipe Box

The faded tin box sits on the counter, resembling a miniature Shredded Wheat box from days gone by, purchased for free by sending in box tops from Shredded Wheat cereal over 30 years ago. It doesn’t summon any attention and almost appears out of place among the lemon-colored sunflowers and cheerful rooster décor, better known as the “French Country” look. It seems obsolete among the modern kitchen gadgets. Yet, priceless treasures lie beneath its dented and misshapen lid.

Opening the box evokes sweet memories. Food splattered and worn index cards hold “secret” family recipes. Each contributor’s writing was unique in style, and one can recognize whose recipe it is just by glancing at the handwriting. Several of the recipes were written on small scraps of notebook paper and even a few on the backs of old store receipts; nothing fancy, but more valuable to me than any of the store bought cookbooks sitting on my kitchen shelf.

Looking through the small box is like visiting with old friends and relatives, many who have passed from this earth. I sense a part of them still with me as I leaf through the recipes. I can almost see Grandma Mitchell’s stout arms rolling out cookie dough for her famous Soft Sugar Cookies. Her cheeks rosy, she was always cheerful and happy, regardless of life’s circumstances. We looked forward to her plump cut-out cookies at Christmas time and Easter. Sometimes she would surprise us with a batch on Valentines Day, cut in the shape of hearts. Her Seven-Layer Salad was anticipated at family picnics and Thanksgiving dinner. Memories surface of my mom standing at the old farm house table stirring up her Raisin Nut Cake and various kinds of cookies that often awaited us when we returned home from school on cold winter afternoons. I can almost smell her delicious Beef Vegetable Soup wafting through the farm house door enticing us in after evening farm chores. Her Fresh Strawberry Pie, a recipe handed down from a friend of hers, was a special summertime treat we enjoyed. I remember picking the juicy berries with Mom on sweltering June days and later enjoying the refreshing pie topped with mounds of thick whipped cream as the juice from the berries dripped down our chins. Recipes from friends far away, some from other countries, bring to mind our adventures as a young military family; all part of the legacy of memories contained in a tiny metal box.

Like written letters, recipes written by hand are becoming a lost art form, replaced by modern technology. I feel blessed to have experienced the joy of finding recipe box treasures, and I am so thankful for each priceless legacy left behind on food-splattered index cards and scraps of notebook paper. It really is the simple things in life that bring us the greatest pleasure, including small tin recipe boxes purchased with cereal box tops.