This old, battered down cookbook ? It's the family cookbook, and as such it is the repository of a lot of memories.
You see, my Mom was the youngest of four sisters, and a bit of a tomboy. As a kid, she did her share of housecleaning, but never got into cooking and sewing. And when she went away to study and later started working, she lived in small rentals where cooking was practically impossible (and strictly forbidden, to boot). So, definitely not a cook.
At age 21, she'd lost both her parents and two years later, 50 years ago for those keeping score, she married my Dad, who was working abroad on oil rigs. She took two years off to follow him, in Greece and then Netherlands, but she still didn't know how to cook. So her eldest sister sent her this book, and this is how she learned how to cook.
But she never learned how to sew. Didn't have to. My father's Mom was a professional seamstress and my Dad had learned that skill from her. (And me ? I learned to cook by watching my Dad - yes, he could cook, too, in addition to being able to fix most everything - but I never learned how to sew).
Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad. And thank you, Ginette Mathiot. You did us well.
