The Castle Cook’s Notebook

A few years ago my Great-Aunt Frieda passed away. I didn’t know her well. In fact, I had only met her on a couple of occasions. She immigrated to the United States from Germany before World War II and spoke with a strong German accent. That was about all I knew of her—or at least all I had taken the time to learn. I had always thought of her as old. Old world. Old fashion. Not of any consequence to me as a young American woman, trying to be grown-up and modern; to make my mark in the world.

She and her late husband didn’t have any children, so my parents acted as executors for her estate. I enjoy cooking and I venerate old publications, so my parents bequeathed me some of her old fashioned baking pans, decorating tools, cookbooks, and one thin, ragged, handwritten notebook. The notebook’s dark umber cover was cracked and flaking away from it’s backing. It was completely separated from it’s binding, held together with clear packing tape. The antique pages, lined with a light cyan grid, were yellowed and stained. To a graphic designer it was gold. Pure gold!

I was told that my great-aunt had worked in the kitchen of a German castle near her home as a young woman. There were no master cookbooks for the kitchen. Apprentice cooks were required to create a notebook of recipes as they learned. This ragged notebook from 1922 was her handwritten recipe book.

The handwriting is nearly impossible for me to read. For starters, it’s written in German. I took Spanish in high school. German might as well be Latin to me. It’s also written in old German script. Very beautiful, but not so easy to read. I think my father must have learned to write that way when he was a child. His handwriting has always been a little scrolly. I can guess from the recipe titles that she must have been a pastry cook. A few even have some lines in English, so she might have added to the book after she moved to The States.

My mom and I mused that it would be great to get it translated one day. I showed off the book to other graphic designers who cooed over it’s singularity and coveted my new find. I scanned the pages. Then I carefully packed it away—waiting for the day when I found inspiration and thought of a unique use for a such a rare treasure.