Home Cooking...

She checked her spice rack. She had read that if you couldn't remember when you bought a spice you should throw it out. Even if technically they didn't really go bad. They were dried, would keep forever, but they lost their potency. Her mother used to go by the "if you can't smell it you can't taste it" rule for what she kept and used. Her grandmother grew everything in her garden and just picked it fresh to use or dry for later in the season. She had always wondered who had time for that anymore?

Okay well, some people had time for it. They made time for it. Treated it as a hobby. So many of the things her grandmother did to just run the house were now hobbies for her friends. Quilting, knitting, gardening, sewing. Her mother had learned how to do all of those things growing up and had abandoned them as quickly as she could. If you could buy it she didn't make it. From clothes to food.

Except for the big holiday meals. Those she had still done from scratch. Some things she felt were too important to leave to strangers. 

But the rest she had stopped doing and had never bothered to teach her daughters. 

Much to her grandmother's consternation. 

What would happen if they needed to make an outfit? Or knit a blanket? Or tend a garden? If they didn't know how then how would they survive?

She had finally explained to her grandmother that it just wasn't practical anymore to do everything from scratch. Even if she had the time, she didn't have the money. What her grandmother had always done to be frugal was now the indulgent way. She could buy an entire outfit, a few outfits from H&M for less than the price as the material to make one. That was without even taking in to consideration the cost of a sewing machine, and the time to do it. Her grandmother had just shaken her head. 

But she had still kept up cooking the big holiday meals. She had helped her mother, and her grandmother. She knew how to make a turkey and dressing. She knew the secret blend of herbs and spices that had been handed down for generations. She knew better than to suggest that they change even a single side dish. Their family dinners were steeped in tradition. Her grandmother had once shown her the original recipe books. The list of seasonings the same that they used now. 

Rosemary
Sage
Garlic
Salt

The handwriting was old. Clearly a fountain pen. Or maybe a quill. Ink spots in places. Areas that had gotten wet and run. Things that were added at different times. The original writing just had the lists of herbs and seasonings. Rofemary. The next bit was amounts. Then a few more notes. Finally came the re-copied recipe cards her grandmother still used to this day. Not that she didn't have them memorized but she said she liked seeing her mother's handwriting every holiday, it made it feel like she was still there with them. 

That was who copied them down in to their current format. Her great grandmother. When her great great grandmother was still doing the cooking she still used the original lists. It was her grandmother's mother who brought them into the days of modern spelling and full recipes. 

And now it was her turn to bring them all into the digital age. She was going to transfer all of those recipes into her online files, that way she could pull them up on her kitchen iPad with the rest of her recipes and YouTube videos on things like how to spatchcock a chicken, if she had ever actually decided to do that, that is. She had thought she might someday. Maybe brave the ire of her mother and grandmother and make chicken instead of turkey for Thanksgiving. Or a steak instead of salt rubbed ham on Christmas. That's what she had thought.

But either way she had decided to digitize the recipe cards. First she tried just scanning them in but the ink was so light on some of them that they wouldn't transfer so she was hand typing them in. 

Or she had been.

She had started with the list of ingredients. The seasoning blend. She had somehow gotten distracted and instead of filling in the blank note card section on her recipe program she had typed them into the search field. And instead of returning recipes with those ingredients Google had taken her to a site on witchcraft and given her the instructions for the spell she had just started. 

Apparently the seasoning blend her family used for their turkey was also the ingredient list for a spell of protection from ill health. 

When she decided to enter the list for the salt rubbed ham she got back a warding spell to protect the perimeter of a household.

The seasoning used for apple pies was for peace in the house. 

Pumpkin pie blend was for strength of character.

These weren't originally recipes for cooks, these were spells for witches. 

Her great great great grandmother was a witch. 

From grandmother to grandmother. Mother to daughter those spells had been passed down.

And eventually her grandmothers had turned those spells into recipes.

Every generation creating the same recipes, following the same spells as the one before.

Her grandmother was a witch.

Her mother was a witch.

She was a witch.

She Googled Kitchen Witch and got 51 million results. 

Apparently this was not new information.

That's what had led her to her spice rack. She was going to be more careful where she bought her ingredients from here on out. Imagine if an unscrupulous company used the wrong plant just because it was less expensive. The whole family could suffer, and not just from dinner not tasting good. 

As she looked over her spices her mind started to wander. 

Oh. 

She called her grandmother, "Will you teach me how to tend to an herb garden? I think I'd like to grow my own seasonings. And do more of my own cooking."

She listened to her grandmother. 

"Oh no real reason, just thought maybe it was important to know what I was eating a little more than I can in a restaurant. You know, just good health stuff."

Her grandmother did know. She had always tried to impress upon her own children the importance of knowing who was cooking for you. Who was sewing what patterns into your quilts. Who was creating knots in the threads of your clothes. This new generation was starting to get back to the old ways. A few of them starting to understand that there were a lot of ways to measure costs. 

And that witchcraft was a mighty fine hobby indeed.