Clearly, it wasn't my fault. That sign was big and pink, for heaven's sake. What was I supposed to do? Drive past and just ignore it? I think not.
I was looking for an old cake plate, maybe. I'm always on the prowl for hand embroidery supplies. I wasn't going to buy anything more than $20. I was just checking it out for bargains. I DON'T need anything. Right. Right?
The previous owner of the home did a lot of hand weaving. So the first room was filled with lovely fibers. I stood my ground. Didn't buy. The second room was more difficult. Someone in this home collected vintage clothes perhaps? There were lovely dresses, blouses -- clearly hand made by someone who knew what they were doing. Normally, I would have jumped at these pieces -- but I was trying to be fiscally responsible. Stick to the plan.
In the kitchen I found a cake pan. Nice with cover. Little expensive -- so I decided to cart it around a little bit to see how it feels.
It was at this point I walked into the living room. Spread out on a long table were letters and clippings -- a few old photos. The women in this family had quite a history. Leadership -- scholarship -- longevity. I'm always looking for ephemera to work into something -- never know what kind of art I might create here and there.
I found two old books on the table. I had been careful to not look at any of the books in the house -- I'm a junkie for old books and again -- I must stick to the plan.
The first book, had a title page: "Sewing Models with Instruction used by Agricultural College, Logan, Utah, department of Domestic Art, 1905"
Within it's pages, examples of each type of sewing technique -- "basting", "hemming", "darning" -- all with pristine samples of each technique along with a description of how to complete each stitch. WOW. I bet those vintage clothes in the other room were made by this woman. My sister is a seamstress and I know she would love it. Christmas is just around the corner. It's not on my list, but it simply would be a lovely gift. Right?
The next book, dark green, bound in burgundy - was like opening a treasure chest. I'm sure light was reflecting on my face as I opened the cover.
"Kate McDonald 1904-05." - Inside - hand written recipes. Hundreds of them. Tucked in: clippings of recipes. Booklet from an ice cream maker, the 8th grade class song from Salmon Public School (Idaho).
Notes, scribbled on scratch paper.
Receipts from the Agriculture College of Utah. "$3 cooking fee - 1901"
It was beautifully kept. Spectacular. My hands were shaking.
Apparently the woman who kept the book, Kate McDonald, died of tuberculosis a few years after starting the book. Her daughter went on to be a leader in education and live past 100. This estate sale was apparently that of Kate's grand daughter.
It broke my heart to be paging through something that should really be a family treasure -- but families fall apart, bills mount and family heirlooms become added weight to an already heavy burden. And sometimes, a 100+year-old cookbook means nothing.
Perhaps that pink sign was indeed calling me. Maybe the cook book knew it needed to be in the hands of someone who would appreciate it. I'll be cooking my way through it, and yes, I'll journal that here. I also plan to look around and see if I can find any more information about Kate. If she grew up in Salmon, there might be information there -- and a trip to Salmon would be beautiful this time of year.
The day got even better! I stopped by the antique store in Shoshone to show my new treasures off to the store's owners. It was late at night, but their car was still there. They had been out with friends checking out part of the wagon train trail. My plan was to just stop in quickly, but then the trail boss stopped in along with another member of the Cowboy Poetry Gathering committee, Lanita.
I had heard about this woman from a few friends. She was raised near here, but spent most of her life in the Midwest. After retirement, she moved back here and has quickly become an essential part of the community.
She saw me drooling over the cookbook. I wasn't really paying attention, but I did hear her say, "I'll be right back." In the meantime, the trail boss was telling me stories and we were all laughing and getting to know each other. The woman came back with a book in her hands. She showed it to the others and I was continued to take in the stories and the silliness of the evening.
She handed the book to me. "The White house Cook book; cooking, toilet and household recipes" 1887. It is old and well used, but fascinating. It contains instructions for using the cuts of meat on every breed, recipes for sauces custards and for cure for the sick.
I'm fairly sure, for example, I'd feel much better after having "egg gruel".
I'll be cooking my way through it as well.
As if the above mentioned books were not enough, a few weeks ago another box of treasure arrived on my door step. As many of you know I live on a large dairy so each day there are multiple shipments of dairy supplies. Tucked into a pallet of animal pharmaceuticals was a box of canning books. "The Complete Book of Small-Batch Preserving".
There was no shipping information on the boxes or tucked inside. Dairy employees brought the box down to the office and my husband his brothers assumed it was mine as I'm always up to something with canning and they figured I'd ordered the books to sell at a class.
While I certainly might have ordered the book, I doubt I would have ordered a case. I would have also had it sent directly to the house and not dropped off at Barn 4.
I'd like to believe these books ended up in my lap for a reason. Maybe the Universe is trying to tell me something -- that I'm supposed to be in the kitchen creating treasures for my own family? That I need to tell Kate McDonald's story? I need to connect with the publisher of "Small Batch Preserving" in order to find the true owner of these books?
Who knows?
These books are all beautiful and I'll be treating them as treasure -- and in the process -- I'll create some new treasures for my family.
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