Hamster size snow flakes are drifting down this morning, certainly a lot more like winter than spring. I felt a need for ‘comfort food’. Wondering what to make, so I pulled out some of my old cookbooks.
In some of these, finds from auctions, yard sales and given to me by family and friends, there are notes.
“Jeff really liked this”, prods me to try a recipe.
“Think it needs more spices”, and I ask myself if a teaspoon of cinnamon is enough.
Some have instructions for double or triple the recipes and notes on a church dinner or “Made this for Charlie’s visit”.
I came across recipe cards written in my mothers lovely hand, Aunt Jo’s scrawl, and a few in Gram’s looped old-fashioned script bring back precious memories and bittersweet thoughts of days past.
There were others and I will admit more than one tear fell as I traveled to kitchens I had not been to for years and ‘tasted’ treats made with love and shared with joy.
Now, I am off to the kitchen here on Sunrise Ridge, to attempt to replicate a few of them.

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