The memories have to start with what I have since I have lost everything a
number of times through the years.

My daughter has laid claim to my old Meta Given's 2 volume cookbook set I
bought 2nd hand about 40 years ago. It is falling apart and raggedy with all
sorts of improper repairs and pasted-in pages with acid burns from Scotch Tape.
WHen she was tiny I stayed sane doing as many recipes as I could from it in our
extremely poor and small apts in New Orleans. It taught me to cook. I'd make
biscuits, for instance, over and over until I perfected them. It's full of
scrawled notes from me. It's still in print, but these are the ones she
treasures. I used it again this Christmas! It's still one of the best
cookbooks I know of for basic recipes that are tried and true. I also have a
cookbook from those days that I bought at a 2nd hand book store that is now
over 100 years old. That one is my treasure and has complete recipes for 3
meals for every day of the year, home remedies, etc. Most of my cookbooks have
been confiscated by my son, the cook.

My favorite utensil is a single, aluminum, battered and dented 1cup measuring
cup. There is something so comforting about its battered look. I have 3 sets
of aluminum measuring cups, but when I make something special, that is the one
I reach for.

Then, there is the huge wooden bowl a friend bought me to make him Cesar salads
in 40 years ago since I didn't have a salad bowl. My daughter has that, too.

But my favorite kitchen memories are the non-material ones. My adoptive mother
in the kitchen in West Chester, PA. My birth-mother making poorman's molasses
candy in an iron skillet on the old, iron coal/wood stove in a house with no
plumbing in Shobokin, PA, etc.

Henrietta