But, cookbooks are like Bibles- they hold family histories. They hold memories. They hold stories.
I purchased this cookbook before our DC adventure, with the single intent of using it:
And use it... I have. I jot down recipes that I have found to be successful
I even write down what the menu was for a given holiday... (Easter 2012 was chicken salad croissants, egg salad sandwiches, and BBQ potato chips as we watched the Masters)
Flipping through the pages, I make notes about the recipe. If something turned out not to be as expected- well, The Future Me will be prepared.
I take lots of notes. Lots and lots...
Chilled Red Bell Pepper Soup? Who'da thought that would be good? So, I told TFM (the future me) that, "hey- you! Don't be surprised... this isn't bad!"
I take notes upon notes as the recipe is made again and again.
And, if a meal fails and there is no saving it... I let myself know. Even when it sounds delightful.
Or, if it is pale in comparison to moms... that happens, too.
Sometimes, the recipe is more of a guide and less of a precise measurement. Like this:
Or, just to really convey to TFM if something is icky and we had to order pizza... well, like I said I use cookbooks like notebooks. And knives like spoons. And dish towels like burp clothes. And burp clothes like dish towels.
I try to have a sense of humor about it and sometimes am more successful than others.
Or, if I learned something- like how to undress a lamb (that's my verb in regards to lamb- not a technical term), I tell myself how to do it. Saves me the trip to google or to my chef friend.
Or, if something is insanely expensive... and then I find it cheaper somewhere else -- I tell myself where to look.
And... sometimes... how the recipe was modified and why... for instance, if I can't find something. I should make a note of where the thyme is.