Michelle Thompson/The Globe and Mail
My nephew e-mailed a few days ago. The subject heading was "Cinnamon Loaf Recipe" and the e-mail read: "Did you come across this in Mom's old recipe box?"
His mother, my only sibling, Betty, died almost 13 years ago, and the box had languished in one of his cupboards until I became its keeper a couple of months ago. A small tin box with a hinged lid, filled with 4x5-inch recipe cards and jauntily decorated with a black potbellied stove, colourful teapots and fruit, it looks like something from the 1950s – which is no accident, since that is when it was purchased.
I found the recipe my nephew was yearning for (not Cinnamon Loaf, it turned out, but Coffee Cake), quickly photographed the recipe card with my iPad and e-mailed it to him.
A couple of hours later, he e-mailed back two photos of the loaf he had made with his 15-year-old daughter. It was a very high-tech exchange of a very old recipe.
But back to the box. As I was looking for the recipe, I realized this was no ordinary box: It was a time capsule.
Given to my sister at her bridal shower in 1959, it contained a recipe from each of the women there, in gorgeous and surprisingly uniform penmanship unlike anything we see today. Flipping through the cards was like stepping back to our suburban home in Winnipeg. I could see the women, immaculately dressed and coiffed, in our turquoise living room, nibbling party sandwiches and drinking tea from "the good cups."
There were recipes from both of our immediate neighbours – Thimble Cookies from Minn Wood and Gingerbread from Hazel Connell. In fact, desserts were by far the biggest category in the box, which perhaps explains my sister's lifelong addiction to sweets. Among them were recipes for Cherry Cha Cha, something called Jam Jams and one heavenly-sounding concoction, Angels' Feathers, featuring graham wafers, custard and bananas.
As you might expect, tomato soup and Jell-o were staples. One recipe for a salad had it all, requiring not only a can of tomato soup but two packages of lemon Jell-o. It was called, naturally, Tomato Soup Jellied Salad.
More unusual were a spate of Mexican and Spanish recipes that seemed to have captivated the women of Winnipeg in 1959. Dorothy Falconer, down the street, contributed Spanish macaroni (active ingredient tomato soup) and there were also recipes for Chili Burgers and Chili con Carne. They were well used, spattered with grease and dog-eared.
Then I hit not Gold-Plated Chicken (recipe included in the box), but pure gold.
Only one man had contributed to the recipe box – our father. He knew that my sister, who left home at age 16 to attend nursing school and lived in residence, had little or no culinary skills, so he decided to start with the basics: How to Boil Water.
Painstakingly printed in capital letters, his recipe read:
Preparation time: 2 to 5 mins
Number of servings: 2
Source of recipe: Dad
Take container in left hand, leaving right hand free. Turn hot or cold water tap to the right (this is located at rear of sink). When container is filled to required level, carry to stove with either hand. Place container on burner located on top of stove (there are either 3 or 4 burners). Turn knob located at front of stove to high. Water will boil in 2 to 5 mins, depending on the amount in the container. Note: It is not necessary to stir as the liquid will not burn, solidify or crystallize.
I can imagine (but not remember: I was 8 at the time) how this recipe was greeted by my sister, who shared my dad's sense of humour. To Dad's surprise, Betty turned out to be a darned good cook with an emphasis, of course, on desserts. As my parents got older and my father died, Betty took over hosting big family events at Christmas, Thanksgiving and birthdays. She put on a fine spread, as they would say in the fifties, and her memory lingers on in the recipes we – her son, daughter, grandchildren and sister – cook to this day.
Over the years, she added her own recipes to the box, all in her distinctive loopy handwriting. I was surprised and proud to have made the cut with a recipe that must date back about 20 years. It was strangely titled Val Wyatt's Ziti as if, without the last name, she might forget who I was.
The last recipe was a clipping from The Vancouver Sun dated May 9, 2001. Betty had retired from nursing by then and hoped to have a long and happy retirement. But it was not to be – she died a year-and-a-half after that last recipe. It was for White Bean Soup with Barley and included eight cups of boiling water. I hope she made it and thought of Dad and his advice. I made a potful of it myself this week and thought of them both.
Valerie Wyatt lives in Victoria.