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The Cookbook

In my family, when you get married, you get a cookbook. Not just any cookbook. The cookbook. It’s filled with recipes from my mother’s side of the family, dating back about three generations. Like the amazing ham sauce that’s changed Easter for me forever. Or my great grandmother’s sticky buns. (They. Are. So. Good.)

This is clearly a gift to be coveted. But if you’re like me (unmarried), then you’re out of luck. The closest I get to The Cookbook is over the phone with my mom, asking her to read me the ingredient list from her copy. I know I could always just snap pictures of the pages when I’m at a married relative’s house, but it’s just not the same.

A little about me. I’ve been dating this guy Joel for seven-plus years now. In no rush to get married, I’m in limbo regarding The Cookbook – which is obviously annoying – but I respect tradition…sort of. After a crazy 30-person Christmas dinner this year (my family’s huge), I proposed a gift idea to my Granny. (Every year she puts a lot of time and effort into a special gift that everyone gets – one year it was a bound book of her and my grandfather’s story, another, it was a CD of my great-uncle’s collected piano recordings.) So I suggested that, since her talented granddaughter (that’s me) is a graphic designer, why not give her The Cookbook (see where I’m going here?) so that I could redesign it for 2016! I could give it an index, fix the typos, format the recipes, and make it a better visual piece overall. I could also have it printed it to give it the professional and cherished binding that it deserves.

But she, being my smart Granny, said No. Not because she caught on to my plan, but because she thought that the typo-filled pages gave it personality and authenticity; that the Microsoft Publisher borders give it a “Granny” feel. Bless her heart.

Though I didn’t receive the go-ahead, I still love the idea. And then, earlier today, I stumbled upon this: Choosing and Pairing Typefaces for Cookbooks. Whether this is the universe telling me to go over Granny’s head, I’ll never know. But for now, I will keep in my Pocket for when she changes her mind.



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