The Joy of Cooking

I have a love besides Mike in my heart which I rarely admit to anyone: cookbooks.

I can take a book of recipes in my hands and caress it like a newborn baby's skin, admiring all the beautiful pictures and wonderful ingredients that would bring such joy to our kitchen table.

Then, I come back to reality because I realize we are adrift with food allergies, hatred of certain foods, and tastes that vary as far and wide as the Sahara Dessert.

Admittedly, most of the books on my shelves have been given to me over the years by people who know I love to cook.

There's the hardback, authentic Italian tome given to me by my college roommate when I married my first husband.

The "Joy of Cooking" that is falling apart was a gift from my beloved Grandma K.

Oodles of church cookbooks litter the shelves, some from friends, some I purchased, many gifts from family. I cherish the one that has recipes from Mom and Dad Huber, especially because Mom took the time to highlight her name under all the recipes she had submitted.*

Now, if that were my only other heart love, we'd be cherry. But, no.

For years, I took Gourmet magazine**, purchased at-the-register Bisquick and Betty Crocker seasonal magazines, and destroyed every copy of Ladies' Home Journal and All You, for the sake of pillaging recipes. So, on top of books, my cabinets are brimming with torn or cut recipes ranging from homemade dog biscuits to chocolate tortes.

Knowing how much I love recipes, you can imagine my dismay when I realized it was time to do a thorough cleaning of the cabinets that housed everything foodie.

I've known for a very long time now that I had too many books. I've also known I had enough single recipes, cut from magazines and newspapers and printed off the Internet to help start the next Aggie bonfire and keep it going until The Babe graduates from A&M.

So I started this project by pulling out all the contents of one cabinet. And there they sat on the counter, for two straight days, staring at me every time I went into the kitchen. I couldn't stand to pass judgment on them.

When I finally began sorting and making copies of tested, beloved recipes so the books could leave our house, I realized this was actually therapeutic. It felt GOOD to be getting rid of stuff I hadn't fully utilized. I even idealized the concept that someone, somewhere, might just be missing the perfect New York Style Cheesecake recipe and would only find it if I gave up one of the books.

I also learned a lesson in letting go, a lesson I long ago was introduced to in the Bible, but I just needed some real life experience to grasp: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Matthew 6: 19-21)

Far too long my treasure has been these books and recipes. I worried far too much about making "perfect" meals, morning, noon and night and was upset when my family didn't respond with gratitude and kudos.

I've had nights where I actually thought about a tornado or a fire destroying our house and how much I would miss all the recipes that are "tried and true".

I've had a real problem because my thinking was "If I toss a cookbook given to me by someone I love and who loves me, it is rude and wrong. ESPECIALLY, if they are no longer alive."

I've learned that giving up things is far different than giving up the person. My treasure is the person and my memories with them. I don't have to have the recipe or the cookbook they gave me to remember them and smile with fondness, or cry with sadness, or laugh with joy.

In freeing up shelf space, I've learned so many lessons; lessons in giving up, giving back, cleaning out, and living with an eye on Heaven.

Not bad for a few hours worth of spring cleaning.


*In the process of going through these books, I really missed Mom and wondered to myself, just before running across the book, "Where are all the recipes Mom used to make for guests?" Now I know. Thank you, Lord, for that gift.

**What was I thinking? If you are married with no children in your future, this is perfectly logical, because you might actually have an "adults-only" party and need fourteen recipes for the perfect date/blue cheese/fresh thyme/bacon-wrapped appetizer. With kids? You need on awesome recipe for mac n cheese and you are set for life!