This is me with my Grandma, Betty McGuire, in 1973. I was 10 1/2 mos. according to the back of the photo, which she used for the cover of a little recipe booklet she put together for me and other gals in the McGuire clan a few years back. I think everybody probably got a customized cover.
I've been spending time over the past week going through some of her old recipes from a stash I took from her apartment in Buffalo on Saturday afternoon. I spent the late morning and early afternoon there with my Dad and Uncle Brian, and other family members who stopped in for a bit throughout the day. In between hungover swigs of light beer, I scoured her kitchen cupboards, tossed away opened packs of Chex Mix or boxes of cereal, God-knows-how-old containers of Old Bay seasoning and oregano, and jars of her homemade strawberry jam that looked as though they'd passed their prime.
By midday I was walking around the cramped apartment wearing the old-school red and blue knit Bills winter cap (pom-pon on top, of course) I'd found stashed somewhere in her bedroom, partly 'cause I was freezing, and partly 'cause I was a little loopy. Emotional overload.
I also put aside tons of unopened, still-good foodstuffs. Things like pancake mix or split pea soup, chocolate fudge frosting, whatever. That was for my brother to take home. When he stopped by we also cleared out her liquor cabinet, the cupboard above her fridge. He took some vodka and I think maybe the Black Velvet -- one of her old standbys. The So-Co we both snubbed. Buried deep behind the clinking bottles was a half-full liter of Powers. That was quickly opened. A toast to Grandma.
So, anyway, getting back to the recipes. On the way home from Buffalo, on the train from JFK into Manhattan, I began going through the stray recipe cards I'd collected, along with a charming old cookie recipe book and a handwritten notebook of recipes entitled, "My Cook Book." That one featured mostly baked goods, lots of heavy stuff with dried fruits and nuts. Also a punch concoction called "Tom and Jerry," that came with a warning not to drink too much. "It really catches up with you." I also swiped her classic 1950s Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, the binding taped together. I could spend hours reading those things.
I expect to catalog many of her recipes, and test many, too. One in particular I've seen repeated in her collection, including in the booklet she made for the McGuire chicks, is a chili sauce recipe. I honestly don't remember her making it, but perhaps she used it as a base for her chili, which I do remember really well. She put brown sugar in it and that really gave it a distinctive, very heartwarming quality. She's the one I'd make all-American type stuff with -- fruit crumbles (Apple Brown Betty), jam, yummy and sweet baked beans, coffee cake, stew with dumplings.
I scanned in what appears to be the oldest version of that recipe for "Mother's Super Chili Sauce." If the state of the paper isn't enough of a giveaway, the ingredient quantities are a true indication of the recipe's age. A 1/2 bushel of tomatoes, 2 quarts of vinegar, 12 large onions. Back in the day when the womenfolk cooked, they meant business.
