Anytime a family member passes down anything from one generation to the next it’s a special moment. A sort of passing of the torch. For me that moment happened the other day when my mom handed me all of her recipes.

I remember as a child my mom was the epitome of a domestic goddess. Our freezers were jammed with homemade pies like strawberry rhubarb, blueberry, and apple. Our cupboards were packed with jars of homemade pickles, beets, relishes and jams. Everything was made from scratch. I remember the whirl of the food processor as it chopped carrots for loaf bread with pineapple or zucchini. I remember the big pots boiling on the stove as it sterilized jars and sitting out on the front porch peeling baby onions that would soon be pickled.

Sadly as we got older and my mom went back to work the stock dwindled and eventually everything in our freezers and cupboards were eaten and replaced with store bought goods.

Society nowadays has become all about convenience. Double income families are the norm so homemade is becoming a thing of the past. Yet I have to wonder in the failing economy if a stockpile like the one I had growing up could save the day for many a struggling family.

As I look over the recipes I make a promise to try an accomplish 1/8th of what my mom did. Which still is a mountain of food.

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