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An Old Recipe Box Dishes Up a Memorable Afternoon By Patricia Corrigan
Though I don't cook often, my small slow cooker often works overtime to produce soups and stews that fill the apartment with tantalizing aromas. One recent afternoon, instead of sifting through recipes saved online or stuffed in a file folder, I dusted off the top of my old recipe box in search of inspiration. I found that, and much more. Tucked inside were faded index cards splattered from use, tattered pages torn from cookbooks long since donated and recipes ripped from magazines, including one swiped long ago from the dentist's office. Dozens of recipe cards, many written out and shared by dear friends, were organized behind the appropriate tabs for appetizers, casseroles and desserts. To my surprise, a ticket stub from a Beatles concert in 1966 lurked among directions for soups, poultry dishes and breads. Behind other tabs were my son's school photo from second grade (he's 50 now), a book author's return address label (he's dead now) and a wallet-size photo of my senior prom date (he's alive, and we're still in touch).
The secret to perfect sangria, coaxed long ago from a restaurant owner, was scribbled on the back of a menu. (Add some port.) Next, I unfolded directions for gazpacho Andaluz, scored from a reader when I worked as a food writer at a daily newspaper. The cranberry ginger conserve recipe from the New York Times reminded me of many festive family dinners. Riffling through my recipes and mementoes, I pulled out a card for pot roast made in a slow cooker. Then I noticed a small silver key at the bottom of the box. I've long forgotten what it's for, but exploring the contents of the long-neglected little box that afternoon nourished my soul.
A ticket stub from a Beatles concert in 1966 and theater tickets from a trip to New York City in 1998 lurked among directions for soups, poultry dishes and breads.
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At the back of the box, a folded envelope held half a teaspoon of red dirt that had inadvertently collected in my rolled-up jean cuffs on a trip 42 years ago to Ayers Rock (now known as Uluru) in Australia.
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