Artist by Nature, Books by Design

Cookbooks

“Should your baking be successful think of me with kindness. Should you be unsuccessful, well – you are the cook!” – Mary Hale

By Rachel on August 17, 2017

Another exciting find in the world of handmade books! I wouldn’t submit this for the Open Set Exhibition by any means, but it is precious and beautiful to me. Unearthed during the cleaning out of my deceased grandparent’s pantry, this relic from their young lives made me absolutely giddy.

Once again reminded that my grandmother was a dynamic woman who made friends wherever she went with her calm demeanor and easy smile, I love thinking about how this little book came to be.

A New Year’s Eve project/gift/collaboration from… whom? Members of a recipe club, like the email recipe exchanges of today? Or maybe it was coordinated by the Yorktown Colony Club as a way to promote neighborly connection? (What a fun idea!) Was there a gathering of many neighbors hand writing their recipes over and over, or was it a gift to her upon arrival? Why the little Playboy nekkid lady with the ball?

There’s no way to know, but it is a wonderful gift and full of interesting international recipes as well as plenty of sugar, jello, and white flour.

I wished for a moment that I had either of my grandparents around to ask about this book just to hear it’s story in their voices. No use wishing for the impossible, so instead I embrace this minor mystery and accept that as much as I knew about them, there is so much more I can never know. And that is how it must be.

‘Boots’ Jacobson shares Kosher Kapers and Bulgarian Peppers.

Anne Willcocks shares Apple Nut Loaf Cake on the blue card. Mrs. Anthoney Chutek shares 7-Up Salad, Wild Rice Casserole, and Baked Carrots in an envelope made out of plastic wrap.

Amy Donohue shares Strawberry Cream Mold. Norma Hansen shares Marshmallow Cheese Salad.

Eddie Grier shares Spanish Meatloaf. Polly Richards shares Polly’s Gook in an envelope made from a wax sandwich bag.

Helen Knight shares Butter Tea Cookies (Kourabiethes). Peggy Adkins Eggplant Casserole.

Laurie shares Co Casserole. Mary Hale shares Scotch Black Bun, Cornish Pasties, Matrimony Cake, Yorkshire Farmhouse Cake, Grantham Gingerbread, Shortcourt Pastry.

Pat Webb shares Cheese Snaps in a wax bag envelope.

Kay Winters shares Fruit Salad in a wax bag envelop.

Grandmothers

“A woman is the full circle. Within her is the power to create, nurture and transform.” – Diane Mariechild

By Rachel on April 12, 2017

Behind me, on a shelf above my head, sit two worn, wooden frames containing images of beautiful young women. Both would one day become my grandmother.

I have had the great fortune of knowing grandparents, great grandparents, and even great great grandparents in my life. Each informing who I am to some degree. Each offering me clues about what I’m capable of. They are the people who created my family and who formed me within my family.

There is one I could not know, however, and she too has formed me.

My maternal grandmother, Vavo Lionelha, died when her oldest child was 15 years and her youngest was 8 months. Her legacy has been fraught with sorrow, but also unwavering faith and diligence.

As her children were left with an ever expanding void, the way each filled that void became their own journey. Through those efforts, her grandchildren were blessed with unquantifiable gifts. I’ve always felt that way about my brother and cousins. There is something rich in our blood and we are fortified by our shared experiences through her.

It is precisely due to Vavo Lionelha’s absence that an interest in family took such a hold of me. I cannot calculate the number of hours I have spent listening to my parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents tell and re-tell stories of their lives. I have been mining the wisest of them for intel since I was old enough to realize I knew nothing of great value.

And why, partially, I became very close to my paternal grandmother, Grandma Esther. We shared a friendship beginning when I went to college and lasting for my entire adult life.

When finally she couldn’t say my name, I spent our time locked into her milky grey stare, telling her every wonderful thing she did for me, gave me, or said to me. I told her over and over how much I learned about being a friend, mother, and daughter from her. She didn’t recognize many people in her last year of life, but she knew me. Her face lit up the moment our eyes met and my heart lit up too.

Both of my grandmothers have been a strong voice in my internal narrative. Their mysteries and familiarities mine to access for life.

I’ve had those framed pictures up for decades giving me comfort, strength, and a little day dreaminess.

With the glow of their very promising lives shining on their faces, they are fearless and hopeful.

They look the way I feel sometimes.

2 Comments