A Perfect Little Sign
A Perfect Little Sign
These shelves make me so happy. My cookbooks were among the first things to be unpacked upon moving. As I placed each book on the shelf I flipped through the pages – thumb-nailing recipes for a the ever long “I want to try this one day” list. I also enjoyed remembering all the recipes I have tried over the years – the ones that were great and the ones that, well, were not.
I laughed out loud when I saw the recipe for the gluten-free chocolate hazelnut cake I made for Friendsgiving a few years ago. That cake was a disaster. It tasted like a salt lick – a very costly and time-consuming salt lick that effectively ended my GF baking days.
I smiled as I flipped through the worn pages of Rebecca Rather’s cookbook – reliving all the days baking for the Broadway Brew in Plainview, Texas. Scones and muffins and cookies. So fun.
The short stubby red book on the bottom shelf was the first cookbook I loved. As I found its place, I remembered picking it up at Barnes and Noble for $6. I must have been around 12 years old. I was obsessed with all things Italy and so naturally I decided to become an Italian chef. My incredible parents were so patient as I would LITERALLY spend all day (and use every dish in the kitchen) making an “Italian Feast” with a collection of recipes from the little red book.
One such day I made homemade pasta and Alfredo sauce. Well, kind of. The fettuccine was approximately 2 inches thick. My brother affectionately called it “brick pasta.”
Another time I was attempting to make a dressing of sorts to be used with a burrata salad. Evidently there is a significant difference between white wine vinegar and red wine vinegar… I remember feeling so fancy as I gently poured the creation over the salad. My Dad tasted it and said, “Al, what exactly is this … drizzle?” Ha! That recipe didn’t make the favorites list.
But some of the recipes have become regulars for me – like pesto. I remember reading the recipe for the first time and thinking, “basil, pine nuts, garlic, parmesan…what’s not to love? I don’t even know what you do with whatever pesto is, but I am making it anyway!” I have made it so many times now that I haven’t looked at that recipe in YEARS. In fact, if you asked me to write the recipe down it would be hard for me to put measurements to it… I just make it by “sight” at this point.
It reminds me of the recipes in the little flowered box on the edge of the shelf.
Those are my Great-Grandmother’s and my Gramma’s recipes. They are riddled with instructions like, “a dab of butter,” “a pinch of salt,” “stir until it feels right.” I once asked Gramma why so many of her recipes were like that. She laughed. The recipes were written down as she knew them – they were just a part of her. She didn’t have exact measurements because they were just habit. I remember being really confused by that when I first started following her recipes – I mean what on earth is a “smidge”?! After years of watching her bake and listening to her explain the terms I find myself writing the same type of recipes: a bunch of basil, several garlic cloves, a two handfuls of pine nuts… I know it so well I can just do it without thinking about it.
As I write this I am convicted by these questions, “is following Jesus’s recipe – love God, love others – something I do without having to think much about it? Is it so engrained in my mind and heart that I can just do it? Do I know God’s words so well that they just come out of me – is the overflow of my heart His truth and love?” I hate to admit that there are many moments in my life I must answer these questions with a “no”.
But I thank God for grace. His grace is sufficient for me, and He will not stop the work He has started in me. I will keep going, keep practicing, keep watching and learning what it is to Follow Jesus until I can do it without thinking about it.
Little did I know that little grace sign would fit so perfectly under my cookbook shelves when I bought it.
I laughed out loud when I saw the recipe for the gluten-free chocolate hazelnut cake I made for Friendsgiving a few years ago. That cake was a disaster. It tasted like a salt lick – a very costly and time-consuming salt lick that effectively ended my GF baking days.
I smiled as I flipped through the worn pages of Rebecca Rather’s cookbook – reliving all the days baking for the Broadway Brew in Plainview, Texas. Scones and muffins and cookies. So fun.
The short stubby red book on the bottom shelf was the first cookbook I loved. As I found its place, I remembered picking it up at Barnes and Noble for $6. I must have been around 12 years old. I was obsessed with all things Italy and so naturally I decided to become an Italian chef. My incredible parents were so patient as I would LITERALLY spend all day (and use every dish in the kitchen) making an “Italian Feast” with a collection of recipes from the little red book.
One such day I made homemade pasta and Alfredo sauce. Well, kind of. The fettuccine was approximately 2 inches thick. My brother affectionately called it “brick pasta.”
Another time I was attempting to make a dressing of sorts to be used with a burrata salad. Evidently there is a significant difference between white wine vinegar and red wine vinegar… I remember feeling so fancy as I gently poured the creation over the salad. My Dad tasted it and said, “Al, what exactly is this … drizzle?” Ha! That recipe didn’t make the favorites list.
But some of the recipes have become regulars for me – like pesto. I remember reading the recipe for the first time and thinking, “basil, pine nuts, garlic, parmesan…what’s not to love? I don’t even know what you do with whatever pesto is, but I am making it anyway!” I have made it so many times now that I haven’t looked at that recipe in YEARS. In fact, if you asked me to write the recipe down it would be hard for me to put measurements to it… I just make it by “sight” at this point.
It reminds me of the recipes in the little flowered box on the edge of the shelf.
Those are my Great-Grandmother’s and my Gramma’s recipes. They are riddled with instructions like, “a dab of butter,” “a pinch of salt,” “stir until it feels right.” I once asked Gramma why so many of her recipes were like that. She laughed. The recipes were written down as she knew them – they were just a part of her. She didn’t have exact measurements because they were just habit. I remember being really confused by that when I first started following her recipes – I mean what on earth is a “smidge”?! After years of watching her bake and listening to her explain the terms I find myself writing the same type of recipes: a bunch of basil, several garlic cloves, a two handfuls of pine nuts… I know it so well I can just do it without thinking about it.
As I write this I am convicted by these questions, “is following Jesus’s recipe – love God, love others – something I do without having to think much about it? Is it so engrained in my mind and heart that I can just do it? Do I know God’s words so well that they just come out of me – is the overflow of my heart His truth and love?” I hate to admit that there are many moments in my life I must answer these questions with a “no”.
But I thank God for grace. His grace is sufficient for me, and He will not stop the work He has started in me. I will keep going, keep practicing, keep watching and learning what it is to Follow Jesus until I can do it without thinking about it.
Little did I know that little grace sign would fit so perfectly under my cookbook shelves when I bought it.
Posted in Alexis Weekly