The Family-tastic Cookbook of Awesome

In honor of the lovely fresh veg I just purchased at the Henderson farmer's market, today I'm using this little piece of internet real estate and your, my dear reader's, time to pay homage to the gift that got my cooking juices flowing.

I call it The Family-tastic Cookbook of Awesome. My mother, a goddess among women, put this cookbook together as a present about four years ago, and it changed the way I look at the kitchen. No longer is the stove for warming up spiceless quesadillas, or the sink just for rinsing out coffee mugs. In the fridge, where once lived only bagels and cream cheese, now nestle ripe zucchinis and homemade tsatsiki. And, as with so many things in my life, I have my mother to thank.

(Here I must make a quick diversion to point out that Mr. P, my wonderful life-companion, deserves an equal share of thanks. He was the first unpaid cook to put together an entire meal just for me. His boldness and bravery amongst ingredients and strange-looking cooking implements have influenced how I cook more than anyone or anything else.)

For sheer inspiration, rather than influence, look no further than the Cookbook of Awesome, as which I will hereon refer to the text in question. Let me begin with a description:

• Page count? Surpassed 250 several years back, and keeps on growing.
• Types of recipes? From appetizers and drinks to breakfasts and desserts, this book's got 'em all.
• Ingredients, cultural influences, etc.? All over the map, metaphorically speaking. Here you'll find Tunesian Tomato Soup, Salad Primavera, Scotch Eggs, and Sloppy Joes.
• Other points of interest? The recipes, most of them, have notes. From one line to a whole page, the note may be about ingredient substitutions, the recipe's origin, a memorable time it was eaten, or an admonition to try things even if they contain mayonnaise. ::shudder::

The amount of time and loving attention my mother put into this astounds me. It is as though twenty-five years' worth of unconditional love, concern for my health, and fun family/friend times have been condensed into this one object, in a way which somehow represents without minimizing.

I keep the cookbook in a 3" binder, which lets me add pages as my mother sends them to me, which is regularly. The binder's pockets have let me start adding odds and ends of paper which mostly contain recipes and notes from Mr. P's familial cooking tradition. This format has shaped how I use the Cookbook of Awesome to a vast degree, and in turn how I cook in general.

Each page of recipes tends to have plenty of white space, so I make notes about the dates that I cooked a dish, what the dish was for, if a substitution worked out, things I could do better next time. There's certainly no guilt about spilling bits of this or that on the binder or its pages, as there might be with a pristine storebought edition of Fancy Famous Chef's Cookbook of Something or Other. The book lets itself be broken down into pages, perfect for toting along to a friend's house to use in their kitchen, or to easily photocopy for anyone who's ever tasted the White Chocolate Orange Dream Cookies I can almost make without the recipe.

Having the Cookbook of Awesome makes me want to cook, simply for the joy of using the book. The tasty food that comes out of it is the icing on the cake. When my belly starts rumbling from the special brand of homesickness that's not really about a place, but about the people in that place, reading through the cookbook fills me up with happy thoughts about my fantastic family. And after I'm full of happy thoughts and tasty food, I can call my mother and qvetch about the new memories folded into these recipes, keeping company with the old.

I hesitate to use some half-baked analogy of the recipes being ingredients in the dish of my life, but somehow it's fitting, if only because before they become dishes and memories of dishes, those recipes are words on a page that my mother put there just for me. And what could be more apt for someone as in love with the word as I? Like my passions for family and literature and food and living, this book just keeps growing and changing with every use and addition and comment.

If I am so much like my mother (which I believe is true), then writing on the recipes she has written for me is one way I can love her and what she has done, be proud to be like her, and blaze my own trail that may parallel and branch off into hers, but which I can still claim for mine.

I will leave you with a few of my favorite moments from The Family-tastic Cookbook of Awesome. The words are my mother's, and I hope the enjoyment will be yours.

Doves, Venison, and Coon
Just because every Southern cook book (and this is one) should have a recipe for coon and dove and venison, here they are. I've never cooked any of these, but I've eaten all except coon. We had dove at a book club dinner; Ann Carlton's son had shot them, and he grilled them this way. They were delicious. The venison recipe is from Kathryn Tucker Windham's cookbook. The coon recipe is from Bill Woodson, one of my AUM classmates who was born and grew up in Selma. Bill would go out with his daddy coon hunting, and this is how his mama cooked the coons they shot. We took the Black Belt class and wrote a paper together on foods of the Black Belt--these recipes were in the paper. The paper got an A--we took in BBQ sandwiches and something chocolate, cookies, I think, as show-and-tell the night we presented the paper to the class.

(Should you find yourself in need of one of these recipes, just let me know. I'll be happy to share.)

Caesar Salad Graycliff
This is from a restaurant in Nassau. I leave out the anchovies, but that's only because I'm too chicken to eat them knowingly or to cook with them.

(Another delicious recipe, the Caesar Salad Graycliff. If you like spicy/savory salad dressings, this the way to go.)

(In parting, here's one full recipe, one of my favorites. Please don't hesitate to ask for any others.)

White Chocolate Orange Dream Cookies
You know about these too. My all-time favorite cookie. (Mine too!)
Makes 3-1/2 dozen

1 cup butter or margarine, softened
2/3 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 tablespoon grated orange rind (dried, as a spice is fine)
2 teaspoons orange extract (the imitation flavor works, but isn't as scrumptious)
2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups (12 ounces) white chocolate chips (which is the size of most bags you'll find at the store)

Beat first 3 ingredients at medium speed with electric mixer until creamy. (I nuke the butter for about 30 sec to get it all softened up. Buttered up, if you will.) Add egg, orange rind, and orange extract, beating until blended.

Combine flour, baking soda, and salt; gradually add to sugar mixture, beating just until blended after each addition. Stir in white chocolate chips.

Drop dough by rounded tablespoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheets. Bake at 350°F for 10 to 12 minutes or until edges are lightly browned. (Make sure it's just the edges that get browned! The inside is best at its softest, chewiest, meltiest....och, I could go on. I should just go bake some so I stop getting distracted thinking about them.) Cool on baking sheets 2 minutes. Remove to wire racks to cool.

These cookies taste like Christmas, and Starbucks backroom chats, and class potlucks, and Mr. P nipping them from under the seran wrap, and surprise snail-mail packages to friends. Oh, and white chocolate and orange too.