In praise of the recipe box

When e-cookbooks hit the scene several years ago, many pundits predicted that it was a death knell for the print versions. However, the opposite happened – print cookbooks rebounded and became more popular than ever. The same cannot be said for another low-tech recipe format. The recipe box, once found in nearly every kitchen, seems to be going the way of the buggy whip. Not so for Southern Living Magazine, where Patricia York writes in praise of the recipe card box. 

The reason for hanging on to the old-timey recipe box – whether made of wood, metal, or even plastic – is that so much more than recipes are tucked inside. The box also holds memories, of special family recipes, of course, but more importantly, of the people behind those recipes.  We also love old recipe boxes and cards because they are a piece of our family history. Says York, “Every recipe has a story that relates to our past (we call this Aunt Margaret’s cake because…, your grandma and I made these cookies when…) and an early morning browsing through the recipe tin can be as nostalgic as looking through the family photo album.”

When I was a young girl, my mother had a small box that contained recipes passed down from her mother and grandmother, and also those she carefully clipped from newspapers and magazines. One particularly harsh winter when I was going stir crazy from being stuck inside, my mother’s solution to my boredom was to “allow” me to use her portable typewriter (normally off-limits) to re-type some of the nearly illegible handwritten cards, as well as transcribe the tattered and creased clippings. Armed with a touch-typing instruction book, a fresh typewriter ribbon, and a stack of index cards, I dutifully tackled the assignment. 

Recently I had a chance to flip through the box, which my mother still has and which still contains many of the cards I typed many years ago. They’ve developed their own patina over time, with splashes, splatters, and smears attesting to their usefulness. I didn’t mind the stains, although I cringed at the number of typographical errors I spotted. If ever I use any of those cards, I will read them carefully lest I fall prey to the editing capabilities of my 8-year-old self. My mom mostly knew the recipes by heart so the typos did not affect her cooking, although she probably chuckled at some of the errors. 

I have my own recipe box now, filled mainly with printouts instead of hand-typed cards. There are still a few recipes in my own, my grandmother’s, and my mother’s handwriting, however, and the box sits proudly on the shelves that house my cookbook collection. I don’t often use it, but when I do, I am rewarded with a flood of warm memories. Maybe it’s time to pull out another stack of index cards and add a few new family classics to the box.