Better Homes and Gardens
good mom, bad cook
Welcome to another installment of Linkpso, where I take a piece of content (article, essay, book, video… anything I can link to) and use it as a prompt for writing. I might be in conversation with the piece or use it as a springboard to go in a completely different direction. I also included a few more interesting links to inspire some Linkspo of your own.
A few weeks back, I read this from Cup of Jo, and it made me think of my mother’s Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook. There’s no copyright, but a quick Google search led me to an Etsy seller who labels it as the 1971 edition; it makes sense since that’s the year my parents were married. The Etsy seller’s copy is in much better shape than mine, but we’ll get to that later.
I thumb through the pages, and I’m transported back in time. The 1970s aesthetic of the photographs is unmistakable: chocolate brown, burnt orange, and avocado green. It reminds me of a set of Tupperware and Pyrex bowls we used to have.
I see recipes for Classic Waldorf Salad, Tomato Aspic, and Ambrosia. There are Jello molds with fruit expertly suspended like jewels in a mine. Mayonnaise seems to be a staple of the era.
There are sections for meal planning and nutrition based on the four food groups and an interesting line on calories where a “Desired weight at age 22 should be maintained throughout life.” There is no citation of any study or medical journal. Apparently, H&G feels confident giving out this advice.
There are drips and stains here and there on the pages, but no handwritten notes.
Did I recognize any of these recipes?
I remember a roast; I think it was tri-tip, but maybe not since she cooked it in the oven. I remember we had an electric knife. My older brother was really into Steven King at the time. He held it up, imitating an evil genius laugh while the blades whirred back and forth. He brought the knife down on the roast, slicing through the meat, saying, “Here’s Jonny.” We named it Mr. Knife and still laugh about it today.
I remember spaghetti, of course, and chili and chicken pot pie. Very simple recipes dependent on canned and frozen ingredients and generic spice packets. Recipes I learned in high school when my brother was off to college, and it was just the two of us. I still use these recipes regularly because they are easy and filling and usually produce leftovers.
This book has been a fixture of my life for as long as I can remember and is one of my most prized possessions, not for what’s inside, but for what's on the back cover.
On the back, in a perfect spiral, is a burn in the shape of the heating coil from our electric stove. I have no knowledge of exactly how it happened, but I think I know my mom well enough to create a memory where there is none.
Maybe she smelled it first. She shrieks when she sees the smoke and starts flailing her arms, tossing the book from hand to hand until it lands flat on the counter. I can picture her staring at it, hands on hips, deciding what to do next. Did she laugh? I hope so. She didn’t throw it out, which makes me think it had some very useful recipes or was sentimental.
The refrain in our house was that my mom “didn’t cook” or that she “used to cook.” She seemed wistful when she talked about the caramel popcorn balls she used to make or the fondu parties she used to throw, both of which feature in H&G’s New Cookbook. It wasn’t about cooking, but for a time when she had a partner, and life felt a little lighter.
By the time I was old enough to be aware, my mom was a dedicated educator and administrator and had been raising two kids alone for nearly a decade. She didn’t have time to “consider [herself] an artist painting a picture.”
This past summer marks 25 years since my mother passed away. This past week marks 40 years since my dad died. I’d like my mother to know that she didn’t need to cook in the way H&G told her to. She didn’t need to be a “good cook” to be a good mom, and of the many lessons she taught me in my short time with her, this is one of the most valuable.
I have a few go-to recipes. We use a meal service from time to time and order pizza every Friday. Nick takes over on the weekends or when we have guests. He makes Oreo pancakes on Sundays. I try not to worry too much when the kids have nachos, chicken strips, and mac and cheese all in the same week. I think of my mom and Hungryman TV Dinners and drive-through at McDonald's, and Mr. Knife and throwing spaghetti at the wall to see if it’s done, and I remind myself that there is so much more to a happy childhood than what’s served at the dinner table.
This is where I am today. Thank you for listening.
Emily
Linkspo
Speaking of cooking and considering my neighbor just gave me some sweet Japanese tomatoes, these recipes look extra delicious!
Why isn’t furniture built to last anymore? And can I make the case to Nick that we should shop vintage when we furnish the new house? (Washington Post)
Get your tissues ready… killed me! (Orion Magazine)
September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month.
Interesting thoughts on blurbs. Side note: The best blurb I ever read was from Elizabeth Gilbert in The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy.
“The world I am required to inhabit is this one. But the world that I long to inhabit is the one created by Charlie Mackesy.”
Did you go to your high school reunion? (The Walrus)
Can we be done with perfect moming? (The Washington Post)
The Washinton Post is running an interesting series on post-pandemic narratives. Here’s one about learning to hug again. And one on reconnecting with the reading life, and this one is about healing loneliness in a coffee shop. I also wrote a little something about coffee shops a while back.
(The Audacity)A sweet story of a message on an egg (The Washinton Post)
If you only have time for one thing… Remember, the glass is already broken (Kottke), and that some broken things can be made whole. (River Teeth)
Where are you getting your inspiration this week? What have you read, seen, or listened to that changed your temperature in some way? Share with us in the comments below.
Emily, I so appreciated this post! The burned coil image - so poetic.
But yes, you don’t have to be a good cook to be a good mom. I know this because my mom has never once cooked for me. But it also reminds me of Arlene Francis, the woman I wrote my thesis on. She was a star and pioneer of early television and yet every interview she gave or magazine spread that she covered focused on whether or not she cooked for her child…