As an adult, do you ever long for a certain taste from your childhood?

Is there a specific cookie that your grandmother made at Christmas time, that still makes your mouth water just thinking about it, But no-one remembers the recipe anymore? 

To me, food makes memories feel so much more real. I sometimes want to eat one of my Oumas rusks, just to feel like she is still here. And luckily for me and my family, my Ouma started an amazing tradition of curating all of her most prized and delicious recipes into a series of recipe books, so that we would never lose the tastes and smells of her cooking, much like a witch would document her most personal spells in her grimoire, to pass onto the next generation.

 Growing up I spent many happy hours with my Ouma in her kitchen. My favorite days were the days she would whip out her recipe book, and we would have a marathon session of baking rusks, crunchies, and jam squares (these were always baked using her homemade jam, delicious!) 

This recipe book of hers, covered in a dull red apple patterned paper, always felt a bit like a bible to me. It held the secrets to all our famous family recipes: The now world renowned “No 92” mustard, “Grammas rusks, as my cousins affectionately call them, my Oumas celebrated Blackforest Cake, Oh! the list goes on and on. I could write stories about each and every one of these recipes, and I might one day. 

My Ouma’s recipe book was not only for documenting delicious recipes though. It also became a place to document her grandchildren’s milestones. Not only when we took our first steps, and got first teeth, but also first words, and funny sayings.

I’ve spent many happy moments laughing at funny things I had said, or song lyrics I had muddled up as a toddler. 

My mom started a recipe book of her own, while my sister and I were growing up. Her recipe book is like a journal of our lives. Not only is it filled with her own culinary adventures, and her children’s and grandchlidren’s milestones, but she has also included newspaper clippings of our various achievements, mementoes of her life’s journey and anecdotes about the various recipes she has chosen to include in her book.

What I love about these books, is that one day, when my mom is no longer with me, I will be able to take out her book, I will be able to bake a “joodse tert” (a delicious tower of short bread biscuit and custard layers, my mom is begged for on a regular basis by her quilting friends), from a recipe written in her hand writing, and I will feel like she is there in the kitchen with me, telling me to stop tasting the custard!

 I have started working on a book of my own, and hope that it will be filled with as many mouthwatering memories, as the 2 precious grimoires that came before.