All that's faded is not lost

On the weekend I was clearing out a small room that sits beside my office. This room has been full to overflowing for too long now with unread recipe books, yoga mats, bolsters, tax stuff I must keep for 7 years and and and.

As I age clutter become a source of stress for me so slowly I am picking off one declutter project at a time. Autumn is the perfect season for letting go of unwanted stuff as we tend to accumulate extra things when we are feeling empty, unsatisfied and in need of something that we believe will provide us with momentary sweetness.

I happily cleared out a pile of cookbooks that hadn’t been opened in years, through out tax documents that I no longer needed and made space in the precious little room for storage, something that old homes in Australia lack.

The things I love most about the Marie Kondo process (which is the name I give to reviewing ownership of all things) is that I always find things that I forgot I had but I truly value. This time is was my grandmothers recipe books. The cover has fallen off, but it is not suffice to describe it as a cover because when I saw cover you think of a hard cardboard style cover. This is a wooden cover that she has hand painted. The contents of the recipe book are faded and hard to read in places. She has noted down recipes on the back of small envelopes, torn out recipes from old newspapers, collected loved recipes from friends. This little precious little book of faded, torn, aged loved recipes reminded me of her lifelong love of cooking. Until that moment I had never really ever felt connected to her. As a child she didn’t like me much so based on that dynamic I had concluded we were nothing alike. So when we visited her I would be good and quiet and avoid her. However, most of my memories I have of her are in her kitchen. She was an incredible cook and there were always home baked treats. Biscuits in one silver tin. Cakes on top in another tin and slices layered on top in another silver tin. I inherited these tins and still use them to store my baked goodies.

As I sat on the floor of my little store room reading through the faded folded pieces of paper recipes I felt I was being given a second chance to get to know her. I could look closely at what she was important enough to her to want to save without fear of her shushing me away. I discovered she preferred sweet recipes to savoury. Perhaps thats because baking is more of a science and good cooks are more courageous and adventurous with meats or it maybe that those were the days of meat and three veg.

What I do know is that there was never a day I visited her home that we didn’t sit at her kitchen table with her perched on her tall backed wooded chair that we were not offered a glass of cordial or on Kirks soft drinks that were delivered in wooden crates ( I always wanted the passionfruit one) and a delicious baked treat. I don’t think I ever saw a packet of store bought biscuits in her cupboard.

I don’t know if I got my love of cooking from her but I do know I understood in that kitchen that food can make people feel welcome even if people can’t.