Before I forget: Sharing Memories

My hubby recently requested that I make one of his favorite desserts. Baked egg custard. This recipe card for “Custard” is written in my husband’s characteristic printing, time-worn and spattered with evidence that the card has been used more than a few times over the past 42 years.  His mother shared her recipe with him during his bachelor days. As much as I made this for him in the early days of our marriage, I honestly don’t think I’ve made it in the past two decades.

So, tonight’s the night. Let me tell you a little story about our baked custard recipe…before I forget.

Wayne and I married in 1976 – he was 25 and I was 18. I didn’t really know how to cook, but did my best to learn how. Wayne endured many questionable dishes and far too many tater tot casseroles and Hamburger Helper meals before I learned to be a good cook. I actually got started on the cooking adventure on our honeymoon, as we traveled up into Canada in a rented recreation vehicle  (ask Wayne about my first attempt at surprising him with an omelet). To save some money, we cooked our way there and back, went to a restaurant sparingly, and enjoyed a few meals at the table of gracious friends we stopped to see along the way.

When we returned from our honeymoon, we decided to have Wayne’s best man over for dinner as our way of thanking him for all of his kindnesses. I don’t remember what I made for dinner, but I don’t think the guys will ever forget what I made for dessert.

It was Wayne’s mom’s recipe for baked egg custard – something that both Wayne and Paul had enjoyed a time or two in their bachelor days as apartment roommates. Expecting their faces to light up with culinary delight, I was disappointed to see a masked look of “what on earth is THIS?” spread over their faces as they took their first bite.

It didn’t taste right at all. I went back into the kitchen and went over the recipe card to see if I could figure out where I had gone awry. Then, this now blushing bride spied it. Sitting right on the counter of our tiny kitchen. A Tupperware measuring cup with one-half cup of sugar pre-measured into it.

Bummer. I had forgotten to add the sugar to the egg custard.

Wayne and Paul were so gracious. They just set our sugar shaker between the two of them, sprinkled a bit of sugar on each bite, and enjoyed my newlywed mishap anyway. Now, 41 years later, I still think of that first time I made it as I measure the sugar for this custard.

There’s probably a story behind every time-worn and dog-eared recipe card in my recipe box.

Time to go enjoy our egg custard.

So, there you have it. Now it’s your turn. Do you have a story or two in YOUR recipe box?