CYNTHIA NIMS describes herself as “a keeper of things.” Among them are her mother’s recipes, stored in a tattered accordion file held together by packing tape and a prayer. It’s so fragile that when Nims gingerly fishes out a yellowed scrap of newsprint from one of its pockets, she fears the whole file might collapse.
As a longtime food writer, magazine editor and the author or co-author of dozens of cookbooks, the lifelong Seattleite has compiled several recipe caches of her own, including her very first, which she also kept in an accordion file. But it’s her mother’s trove that has inspired Nims’ newest venture, Long Live the Recipe Box, an online effort to inspire others to mine cherished recipes for the connections and stories they tell about the past.
Nearly 25 years after Marian Nims’ death, the contents of her recipe file still fascinate her daughter, who can’t bring herself to toss a single recipe.
“I see the whole collection as a treasure,” she says. Even more than old photos, the annotated cards and scribbled-on scraps of paper provide glimpses of her mother’s life as a Navy wife (and before that a Navy nurse), the people she knew, the magazines and newspapers she read, and the foods she liked to cook for her family and friends.
Recipe files are like time capsules but also part of a continuum. Whether passed along by relatives, friends, neighbors, coaches or colleagues, recipes show us the way things were, and Nims is on a mission to make sure they are preserved.
Saving recipes doesn’t mean you have to cook from them. It breaks her heart when people toss out or give away recipe collections because they’re dated, or because they’d never make any of those dishes. The ingredients or techniques don’t always align with the way we cook today, but you don’t have to use them to find value in them, she says.
A banana bread recipe in her mother’s handwriting illustrates the brevity of many older recipes, written in a time when more people had basic cooking skills. They already knew how to make a glaze or mix a dough. The banana bread instructions might be scant, but precious bits of family history can be gleaned: It reveals the year (1957, before Nims was born), who her mother got it from (Helen, a person unknown to Nims), and where they lived at the time (the naval air station at Barbers Point on Oahu).
When you do cook from old recipes, says Nims, remember that they aren’t sacred. She encourages people to update them and make the dish in a way that appeals to them now or is more practical.
“Chances are the recipe was already tweaked or modified by the person you got it from,” she says. “Honor the past but bring it into the present.”
Her mother’s chile con queso remains a fixture at family gatherings, still served in the chafing dish her mother always used. Nims has adapted the original recipe, adjusting the amount of canned tomatoes to the size commonly available today, and substituting fresh poblanos for the canned chiles she remembers her mom liked to use. Changes like this keep recipes alive, she says.
Sometimes people remember a long-ago dish they would like to cook but can’t find the recipe. For Nims, it’s the marinated flank steak that she and her siblings remember their mom making so many times. She advises a little sleuthing in those cases. Search for similar recipes in cookbooks or on the internet. Think of what you remember about the taste, what flavors you recall, and then look for recipes that include those. In the case of the flank steak, she hasn’t quite nailed it yet. But if you even get close, she says, it can make you feel the connection with that person or that period of your life. And maybe that’s enough.
Nims shares these tips and more in her Substack newsletter and on her new website, Long Live the Recipe Box. Eventually she plans to add short how-to videos to the website and offer one-on-one recipe box coaching.
Recipes don’t have to be generational to become cherished. No matter where they originate, any recipes that inspire a sense of connection to a person, place or time have value in her eyes. They prompt memories you and others might have forgotten, so think about who else in your life might benefit from keeping them.
Through her work, Nims interacts with many people who collect and preserve precious recipes. She also wants to reach those who haven’t given it much thought yet, to help them on that journey. She senses a renewed interest in the tangible handwritten recipe and loves to hear that people are creating recipe collections to give as a shower or wedding gift. She hopes that they remember the part about passing them on, too. Now that she’s turned 60, she’s starting to think about the recipe file she wants to leave behind.
Chile Con Queso
From Marian Nims’ recipe file, adapted by Cynthia Nims. Makes about 12 servings.
One of the updates I’ve made to this recipe is changing the can size for the tomatoes from 1 pound, 3 ounces to 1 pound, 12 ounces, a far more common size today. I also recall mom using canned diced chiles. Fresh poblanos boost the flavor a bit.
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced or pressed
1 can (28 ounces) whole or diced tomatoes
1 can (6 ounces) tomato paste
2 poblano chiles, cored, seeded and finely chopped
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 1/2 cups (about 6 ounces) grated sharp cheddar cheese, divided
Corn chips, for serving
1. Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and sauté, stirring often, until tender, 8 to 10 minutes. Avoid browning; reduce the heat if needed. Stir in the tomatoes, tomato paste and poblanos with a good pinch each of salt and pepper. Reduce the heat to low, cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes are very soft and the flavors well melded, about 1 hour. Taste for seasoning. Add more salt or pepper if needed.
2. Stir in 1 1/4 cups of the cheese and transfer to a chafing dish or fondue pot set over its heat source. Sprinkle the remaining cheese on top and serve warm, with corn chips alongside for dipping.
Cheese Cookies
From Marian Nims’ recipe file, adapted by Cynthia Nims. Makes about 2 1/2 dozen cookies.
This is another recipe I remember my mom making for virtually every party my parents hosted at our house when I was a kid. Granted, the original recipe calls for oleo (an old-fashioned word for margarine) and “one small glass of sharp cheddar cheese.” With just a couple of tweaks, this is the version I love making today.
1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (about 4 ounces) grated sharp cheddar cheese
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
1. Preheat the oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper.
2. Cream together the butter and cheese in a stand mixer with the paddle attachment or with a hand mixer until well blended, scraping down the sides of the bowl a couple of times. Stir together the flour, salt and cayenne in a small bowl. Working at low speed, gradually add the flour, mixing just until evenly blended and the dough begins to pull together.
3. Roll the dough into roughly 1-inch balls and set them a good inch apart on the baking sheet. Use a fork to gently press down on each ball, forming a crosshatch pattern.
4. Bake until firm and lightly browned, about 15 minutes. Let cool for a couple of minutes on the baking sheet, then transfer the cookies to a wire rack to cool completely.