I know. Just use Google Documents. But sometimes it’s nice to have a recipe written down. On paper. So you can splash oil on it and get gobs of flour crusted onto the page, effecting a scratch and sniff with topography.
Currently, my favorite recipes are scattered across books and painstakingly scrawled in a journal-like notebook meant for jotting down one’s innermost teenage thoughts. Apparently, I bare my soul in half sticks of butter, cups of flour and immodest measures of spice. I try to get recipes onto this blog thing whenever I can, because sharing is a virtue. But still. I want a box I can easily flip through and actually feel my recipe collection.
Months ago I spotted the perfect recipe box. Tin and teal. Yes, Martha made it. I didn’t buy it because I figured she would always be selling it.
This is cute, no?
But I can’t find it for sale online anywhere. Just in red. I like red. But I don’t want red to take over my kitchen.
My quest for a recipe box proves to be another revelation of how this world is imperfect (so spiritual of me, no?).
Hopefully the difficulty finding a non-offensive, appropriately retro recipe box will be the worst of my problems today. Off to make my kids’ school lunches. No recipes required.