I was chatting with one of the dearest friends I’ve ever been blessed with on the phone today. We attended kindergarten together, were in Mrs. Barber’s third grade class together, walked across the stage at Central Church to receive our high school diplomas together, roomed together in Humes Hall in college, were in each other’s weddings, and even though we live nearly 400 miles apart, still make time to catch up regularly.
If you’d told me twenty years ago that Abi and I would someday be exchanging recipes for scrumptious dinners to make for our families, I’d have scoffed. If you’d told me how much I'd love to cook, I'd never have believed it. If you’d told me then I’d be a stay-at-home, work-from-home, tennis-playing mom, clearly I would have called the cops – because I’d have you pegged for crazy. And possibly a bossy stalker for telling me all these things.
But here we are today, exchanging recipes and tidbits of gossip. Discussing the importance for some (Abi) to have exact measurements and instructions, and for others how a dash of this and a dash of that is the most exciting way to cook (moi.) You’ll note on Abi’s recipe the preciseness of the instructions. Note on my two recipes not only the lack of instruction, but also the lack of amounts, and in some cases full ingredient names (I’m going to guess “ranch style” is “ranch style beans?”)
Abi said today no matter how many times she makes this recipe, she’ll still be consulting the recipe card until she’s 60, just to make sure she has the necessary ingredients and correct measurements. Here’s to exchanging stories and recipes with the best kinds of friends until our 60s and beyond. No instructions needed.