Honor, History and Cake

Ok, so this is going to be a rather trivial, probably childish post. Pretty sure most people would rather read that though, than anything political that I have to say; or even about faith. That is a sad commentary on our society in my view. But let’s get sadder...I am going to share a gripe. And enjoy doing it. :-) But I also think there is a lesson in my gripe about honor.

I hate sharing recipes. I just truly do. Some people think that is selfish and stupid. I don’t really care. Now sometimes, even though I don’t really want to share a favorite, I do anyway. Sometimes, depending on who it is, I am happy to share. Sometimes I just absolutely refuse, and I do not feel one bit guilty about that. It’s like sharing your huckleberry spot or your fishing hole. Just have fun finding your own. This one’s a secret. Lol Generational natives where I live, understand that. Side note: those of you who may think you are transplanting or harvesting huckleberries at a low elevation...those are not a true huckleberry! But I digress.

So. Let me explain my reasons for not always liking to share a favorite, most often, a family recipe. Number one, I don’t know how many times I have shared, or I have known someone to share, and the minute the recipe is tried by the receiver and it didn’t turn out as well as expected, the person who shared is accused of withholding an ingredient...or an important means to success! Come on! We have all heard that, haven’t we? Or had it happen to us? I have sure heard lots of stories like that. Maybe my biggest pet peeve that comes from graciously (or not so graciously) sharing is when it ends with an “attack”, for lack of a better word. Lol Because in reality, the one receiving is questioning the honor or honesty of the giver...whether they realize they are doing that or not! Think about it!

Or sometimes, I have been told “Well that didn’t sound quite right, so I changed this.” Whatever “this” might be. “Ok...I’m sure you know best, but don’t ask me for another recipe,” is how I would like to retort. I try to remain silent. Whatever. Lol Good luck with that.

And finally, there is the one who refuses to acknowledge from where the recipe came and instead claim it as their own. It is silly, that I think about that, I know...and probably childish. But I am all about history, and family traditions, and offering credit where credit is due. The borrower gets to take credit for their baking, canning or cooking skills when they use the recipe. Isn’t that enough? What’s wrong with telling the story behind the recipe? And how you came across it? That should be a fun part of serving.

I have a beautiful begonia that my aunt recently gave me. It is a start, probably from a start, that was from a plant my grandma had when she was still alive. She died in the 1980’s. Yet her plant is still living! I would never talk about the plant that I have without sharing that story! Isn’t it the same with a recipe? It is nothing I have anything to do with in the way of success or not. It’s just a cool part of the story that shouldn’t go unsaid. It is kind of a cool way to remember the people who have gone before. I once had a direct start from her begonia decades ago, that I kept alive forever! That’s why this one also means so much to me...it’s like I got it back. I like remembering what my grandma did and liked.

Same goes for a recipe, especially if it is one with which I grew up eating. Some of my most cherished recipes are those from my mom. I like to be sure she gets the credit. It’s called honor. And I want to honor my mom, so sometimes I share her pickle recipe and her peaches recipe, because I know she would...but sometimes I get childish and selfish and guard them with my life. Those recipes truly do belong only to her. They require her name in my opinion. Somehow, I want that preserved. (pun unintentional...or maybe not ;-))

We have had one recipe in our family for generations which has an incredible story with it. It is called the “Waldorf Astoria Red Cake”. And trust me there are a lot of red cake recipes making the rounds today, but none of them are like this..from which I believe, all red cake began. IF you aren’t eating red cake from this recipe, you are not eating red cake...kinda like huckleberries. My grandma started making this recipe decades ago, and always made it for my sister’s birthday. Sis picked up and continued the recipe and is the one in our family that most often still makes this cake. I know other family members do every once in a while and I do too. It is so good! No wonder everyone wants the recipe!! But for crying out loud! Can’t we keep the story that goes along with it, intact??? It is part of the story! And a huge part of the cake. That’s part of the fun! It is history! 

I have another recipe, that I have always gladly shared because I know how good it is and how popular it is every time I make it. It was given to me by my aunt over 50 years ago. She created the cutest little recipe box for me when I was just starting my adult life with a recipe from every single family member. It is one of my most treasured gifts. (*Treasured gifts...note to self: that is for another blog post some day.)

But anyway, there was a recipe in that box that she labeled with her husband’s name (my uncle) and a story about the recipe. I included it in a family cook book that I once wrote, using many of the recipes she gave me from members of our family. I have made that recipe more than any other from that recipe box, I believe. And I have given out that recipe more than any other one I have. That kind of gift I did want to share with family members. And I have over and over. But along with that, I think every one I shared it with should call it by the name it was given, and know a little bit about the person for whom it was named. So I share that story.

Recently, I was so excited, when a 4^th or 5^th generation family member asked me at a recent gathering where the item was served: “Now who was Uncle F?” she inquired after I mentioned the name of the dish.

Well how cools is that! I like that she cared enough to ask. It warmed my heart to talk about a family member that I remember and loved, with a younger family member that never knew him. That’s called family tradition. It’s history and it is an important way to keep our loved ones alive. It is called honor. So just do it. It’s fun. And we are slowly losing all those things that really matter: tradition, history and honor. Sometimes someone’s reasoning may seem silly or even childish...but ask a question or two. You might find out why...or you may find you even want to do the same.

And for crying out loud. Don’t criticize the recipe, the giver or the method, if you ever want another recipe from me.