The Recipes I’ve Never Cooked (and Why I Still Keep Them)

When memory means more than measurement.

A few weeks ago, a reader named Becky shared something simple and profound:

“I’m retired now. I went through my mom’s and grandma’s recipe boxes — five in total, each sorted by casseroles, salads, desserts.

There are probably 100 recipes in each. I’ve never made 70% of them.

They’re both gone now. I’m sentimental. Should I pitch the ones I haven’t made?”

It’s a quiet question.
But not a small one.

What Are We Really Keeping?

At first glance, a recipe card is just information. A list. A formula.

But once it’s handwritten — once it’s stained with sauce or underlined in a ballpoint pen — it becomes something else.
It becomes a keepsake. A conversation. A hint of someone’s life and voice.

And even if we never cook from it, we’re still nourished by what it represents.

The Uncooked Still Counts

There’s a lemon chiffon pie in my grandmother’s box. I’ve never made it. I’m not even sure I like lemon chiffon.
But her handwriting on that card?
It brings me back to her kitchen. The squeak of her cabinet hinges. The way she wiped her hands on her apron and kissed the top of my head without a word.

That card may never touch a counter again.
But it already served its purpose.

When Letting Go Isn’t the Point

In a world where decluttering is a kind of virtue, we’re often told to get rid of what we don’t use.

But some things aren’t meant to be used.
Some things are meant to be held. Remembered. Protected.

These recipes may never feed the stomach. But they feed the soul.
They remind us where we came from — and who we’re still becoming.

You Don’t Need a Reason to Keep Them

If you’ve got recipe cards in a box somewhere — cards you haven’t touched in years, dishes you’ve never tried — that’s okay.

Keep them.
Frame them.
Or just open the box once in a while and let yourself smile.

You don’t need to explain it to anyone.
They meant something to someone who meant something to you.
That’s reason enough.