The Matyi/Whittaker recipe box.
Let's all meet up in the kitchen.
Mom had one. Auntie had one. grandma had one. Pretty sure half the aunts and cousins had one. A metal recipe box; utilitarian, probably 6 inches across and deep, and 4 inches back. It typically had pastel colors of the 1950s; pink and yellow and muted greens. Inevitably was some graphic illustration of kitchen items or just designs. If you went poking about the kitchens of our relatives you would inevitable come across one of these recipe "gas boxes."
Somewhere in my memory I recall one in particular. Across the back, in kitschy "brush script" font, read the word "GAS." It made little sense; why was the word "gas" used to decorate a recipe box? It was the one element that made the object less mundane; a mini mystery emblazoned along one side. (Years later I discovered the mystery was not so glamorous. A gas company in Ohio used to offer the metal recipeboxes as part of a marketing promotion. Hence why the word "GAS" would sometimes be on the box somewhere. And regardless of whether it was effective marketing, the boxes were meanwhile the prefect size and shape for recipe clippings, so they grew popular enough to find distribution nationally. That's probably how so many wound up in the kitchens of the Northeast.)
The metal GasBox was where many beloved random recipes ended up. The box was generally a jumble of handwritten notes and impulsive paper clippings, and random paper detritus. But these were the recipes that went beyond books; they represent our family's tastes and emotional connections with specific dishes. A recipe int eh GasBox was typically a rough-and-ready sort of depiction (even sometimes outright raggedy), but it made up for lack of aesthetics with a connection to what is personal for precious.
Everyone has their own little compendium of personally-curated recipes somewhere. it's pragmatic and simple, and yet deeply personal. The recipes collected in the GasBox were all chosen emotionally; because they excited, or because they were passed along, or because they were somehow important to hold on to. While they look humble, they are personal.
What we keep in the GasBox is more than scraps and clippings. When you think about it, the recipes and notes are little treasures; a line of literal historical artifacts that bind us with our family heritage.
There's a reason they say corny lines like "food is love" or "food is family." Sociologists, archaeologists, and historians have all noted the intense reality of food as a foundational element in shared human culture at all levels, right down to the family unit.
This website is now a new way to keep our link. It is a virtual GasBox where we can continue to reconnect through food. it becomes an artifact of our family history and bond that we can all build onto and gain from.
The natural long-term rhythm of all American families is to gradually spread out across geography over time. Ours is no different. We're not always close to a common table. We're not always sharing the same kitchens.
This is one of the reasons I wanted to give us this virtual GasBox. Now we can reconnect through flavors we love, while also watching our tastes grow. This is a link that can't be broken, and remains very intimate.
Wherever the Matyi's and Whittakers go, we will always meet again in the kitchen.
This virtual GasBox is kind of useless unless we all contribute recipes. It doesn't have to happen all the time; there is no deadline or demand. However, the more we drop our recipes in, the more we gain a remarkable shared library of our family's favorites.
Whether it's deeply personal recipes like cuzzuppe or lobster sauce, or just personal favorites we have come to on our own, our shared food experience is what keeps us bonded as a family,
This GasBox is virtual. It won't dent or rust; it won't get lost. So the recipes we compile over the upcoming years will go forward into the future, binding and bonding our family whenever it grows.
Adding recipes to the GasBox is important beyond the gesture of sharing what we like. It literally assembles into a document for the future. It recalls who we are, what connects us, and what we love.
Pretty impressive for a recipe box.
Seriously, gang: GO FOR IT! All recipes. Every recipes. Even simple little ideas. Don't hold back.
The real-life GasBox recipe box was always filled to brimming with impulsive additions. That is what made is special; it had a low bar of entry. Our GasBox should be seen the same way. Don't second-guess; just add!
Christian will keep things tidy; swoop through and button things up from time to time. The main goal is to drop your stuff in; to build and share.