The recipe,
that work of art,
bequeathed from bubbling
kitchen heart,
with stain and splot
of ancient dough,
bringing to Now
the Long-ago.
Penmanship of
floured hand,
preserved on paper
less than grand,
thus creating
choice giftwrap
of what was once
a lowly scrap.
More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg,
and to Rose Schloot, owner of Cross River Lodge,
Grand Marais, Minnesota,
where this eloquent old piece of the past is displayed.
Oddments 
September 10, 2020 at 10:20 am
Thank you for the memories and the smile. I have my grandmother’s recipes dating back to the early 1900’s. There is one where she wrote a note asking a neighbor to share a cookie recipe and that the note was being carried by my Mom to school to give to her daughter. When you flip this scrap of paper over, the recipe had been written on the back of the note. The paper was torn on all sides, is brown from age, and has grease spots on it. I treasure that ragged piece of paper. Pinterest is great today for recipes, but it certainly doesn’t have character like these old recipes. Thanks for the memories, Maureen. š
September 10, 2020 at 10:26 am
What a wonderful scrap you have there! There is something about the paper that is part of the recipe story, and I certainly understand why that little piece is dear to you. What a treasure! And to have a grandmother’s recipes from a hundred years ago? The Smithsonian should be so lucky! We know what’s good, don’t we?
September 12, 2020 at 9:32 pm
From my experience of making sourdough, dough goes all over – hands, counter top, spoons, taps, sink, dish cloths, towels – and if not scrupulously removed, sets hard as anything. But then my dough is still more like an octopus than it ought to be.
September 12, 2020 at 9:38 pm
Dough like an octopus. Now there’s an image. I will grant that sometimes dough has a life — and mind — of its own, still I can’t help thinking about the bread that came of it, tentacles notwithstanding. I bet it was wonderful.