I keep a binder of recipes. I started it about 25 years ago before the age of the internet and never stopped adding to it. It holds some of my favorite stuff — handwritten recipes from my mother-in-law, articles written by Joe Schwarcz (food chemist) that my Mom saved for me from the Montreal Gazette, gardening diagrams made by my father-in-law and a bunch of four-leaf clovers gathered by my youngest over the years (I can still see him running full tilt towards me with cupped hands in the kitchen of our Ottawa home).
Of course much of my life is now cataloged on the web, stored in some soulless cloud, but that’s not my preferred resting place. I like paper, always have, and every time I open the pages of my now tattered, gravy spattered binder, it brings me back to some of the people and memories I love most. …