Memory Box

Last night I had a craving for hummus. It was the bewitching hour: Eddie was supposed to be home already but was still at the hospital, Annie and Bryce were trying out our new wading pool in the middle of a rainstorm, and Isaac was inside, begging to be allowed to go out with them. In my majorly-distracted state I couldn't remember my recipe.

So I gave the screaming baby a drink and pulled out the recipe box. I keep the dessert cards at the front, and since my cooking repertoire lately consists of grilled cheese, tortellini, quesadillas and desserts, I don't often get beyond the recipes for Pumpkin Cookies, Cowboy Cookies (the best cookies ever according to my old roommate Carol) or Peanut Butter Brownie Trifle. But as I started looking deeper, I came across cards I hadn't seen in years. My godmother gave me a cookbook shower right before my wedding, and everyone who participated filled out a recipe card with their favorite recipe.

The old, wavery, European-looking "Tuna Noodle Casserole" card stopped me in my tracks. I'll admit that I've never made a Tuna Noodle Casserole and probably never will, but my great-grandma wrote the card, and seeing the handwriting I once knew so well from birthday cards containing five dollar bills brought tears to my eyes. My old roommate Lauren's Risotto and Penne Arrabiata recipes brought me back to tasty, spicy food eaten in the midst of the terrible filth of our sophomore apartment.

The really good recipes are the dirty ones: Brenda's Cinnamon Rolls (which my mom has appropriated and now sends out as "Terry's Cinnamon Rolls"), King Ranch Chicken, Erlynn's Green Salad, and the Banana Anniversary Cake can all hardly be read for the smudges. Others bring back memories of single events-- reading Aunt Marcia's Marinade puts me at Eddie's grandparents' 90th birthday party, and Swiss Chicken reminds me of when Eddie's brother accused his mother of trying to kill him with a combination of chopped onions and cooking wine.

And some recipes, for good or bad, bring back my childhood. There's the recipe for Candy Cane Cookies, torn into a hundred little pieces by my mom in a fit of Christmas-baking-induced frustration, and rescued from the garbage can and lovingly repieced by me. Another card, for chocolate-mint brownies, has my name, followed by Mark Roberts's name, followed by Shelah Roberts, Shelah Katherine Roberts, and Mrs. Mark Roberts, written on the back.

I think we could do great sociological studies of women and their worlds by studying their recipe boxes. Although I didn't realize it until yesterday, mine tells a lot about me. The people I love most (and the foods they love most) are represented inside. It also shows that I have an irresistible sweet tooth. But you probably didn't need to look in my recipe box to know that.

And as a bonus, here's the hummus recipe:

The Best Hummus You'll Find Outside a Greek Restaurant

1 can garbanzo beans (drained, with 1 T juice reserved)

1 T tahini

1 clove of garlic, crushed

a generous shake of red pepper flakes

3 T fresh lemon juice

In a food processor, combine beans, tahini, garlic and red pepper. Process until smooth. Add lemon juice and bean juice. Process until all of the liquid is incorporated.

Wasn't that easy?

We usually eat this with veggie sticks and pita bread, drizzled with olive oil and warmed in the oven. If it's for dinner, tradition in our house holds that hummus must be served with smoothies. Go figure.

--originally published 3/30/06