The Cookbook Blog

I have been putting a lot of time in on the cookbook blog and I really like the way it is looking. It’s kind of a trip to work on because it forces me to think about my early years, growing up, the people who were important to me then, my family, etc. Sorting through those old family photos is fascinating. I wish I had paid more attention when my grandmothers were alive because they loved to tell stories about their mothers and grandmothers and, now that they are gone, I’ll never have the answers to a lot of questions.

A few years ago I got an email from a distant cousin who was doing research on the Valentine family. In my immediate family there had always been a story/legend about my great-grandfather that I personally never much cared for. It was dramatic but unpleasant. However, this distant cousin said she had traced the family line to Scotland. My Great-great Grandfather James Valentine was born in Scotland and he and his wife Elizabeth moved to Canada which is where my Great-grandfather Thomas Valentine was born. I have a picture of him and his wife, my Great-grandmother whose name was Theresa and was of French descent (above right). They also have six sons and a daughter in the photograph. One of them, William, is my father’s father.

When I look at their faces I look for familiar features that have passed down through the generations. I am told that I look a lot like my Aunt Bonnie who was my father’s older sister. I remember her with tremendous affection and also because her husband, my Uncle Custy (left), was one of the most handsome men I ever knew.

In a way it is comforting for me to be working on this cookbook at this time in my life. I’ve had a tough summer with too little fun and some financial worries that are lessening now but still causing stress. So working on this cookbook and seeing the faces of the people who came before me is comforting. It reassures me that I am descended from hearty stock and good people and I can handle whatever comes along.

When I was little much of the family activities I remember revolved around my father’s family but after grandma died when I was 13 that began to change. Dad came from a big family and there were tons of cousins and second cousins and third cousins. I never understood all that cousin lineage. My mother only had one sister who lived to adulthood, my Aunt Rosie whom I have talked about here before. She and my uncle Buddy were my godparents. I wonder sometimes if people still have godparents and if that really means anything anymore.

Sorting through these recipes and these pictures is a labor of love. Every time I come across a special recipe I think about the times we had it and all the things that went with it and how I would hate all that to be lost in the future but, of course, much of it is. I am the oldest of eight children and I am the only one left who remembers a lot of family members — Uncle Bill who died when I was 10 and Great-uncle Harry and Great-aunt Clara who never had children but were always wonderful to me. Whenever they came to visit Grandma, who was Uncle Harry’s sister, Uncle Harry would say to me “go get your little red suitcase and you can come home with us!” I always wanted to but I don’t think I ever did.

I had a childhood that was filled with fruit trees and gardens, family stories and home-cooking, relatives and pickles and preserves and bread baking in the oven. Like any family there were troubles too but, when I work on the cookbook blog, I just remember the currant bushes and peeling apples on the back porch and all the aunts and uncles. And then I think I am very blessed.

Thanks for reading.