Hand-Me-Down Cookbooks

My aunt gave me her old cookbooks when she moved overseas. I expected to keep one or two. Instead I've ended up reading all twelve, cover to cover, like novels.

The best part isn't the recipes. It's the margins. "Too much garlic, even for Bill." "Made for Mira's christening, 1987 – a hit!" "Never again." A grocery list tucked into the casserole section. A child's drawing, probably my cousin's, of a smiling chicken.

I've started adding my own notes underneath hers, in a different color pen. "Made this for my first dinner party. Burnt the bottom, everyone was nice about it." "Still too much garlic."

I sent her a photo of one of my notes. She wrote back: "Welcome to the family archive." I hope someday someone else reads both of our handwritings and laughs.