Eventually, it came to this. My dad’s pantry was stocked with instant noodles and cans of soup: his solitary meals easy to prepare. But it breaks my heart to think of him, alone in my mom’s kitchen, stirring water into a cup of noodles.

***

My mom was a dental assistant before she got married, but in the tradition of the times, didn’t work after the wedding. When my sister and I were older, she worked as a classroom volunteer for Head Start, and still later as a pre-school teacher at a Presbyterian church’s child care center. Mostly, though, she was stay-at-home wife.

We had home-cooked meals nearly every night. Our family tradition was to eat out one time a month, and the honor of choosing the location rotated among family members. The favorites were Furr’s Cafeteria (where we could marvel at the tea cart lady’s big hair) and Youngblood’s Fried Chicken, though from time to time we’d be adventurous and go to the Ming Tree, where we could have some Chinese food while the owner of the place entertained the patrons with magic tricks.

Only a few things that my mom cooked have stuck in my memory, though surely her repertoire was much larger than my list suggests.

Salmon Croquettes – patties made from canned salmon, egg, and mashed up saltine crackers then fried until brown.

Chicken Tetrazzine – a fancy name for chicken and spaghetti.

Tuna Casserole – there was a time when she was on a tuna casserole kick; I still remember that smell. And my memories aren’t necessarily fond….

Macaroni and Cheese – she made the best mac and cheese ever.

King Ranch Casserole – the KRC phase came after the tuna casserole. This dish, named for (but probably never served at) the huge Texas ranch, was made from layers of corn tortillas, chicken, cream of mushroom soup, cheese, and so on. It was thought to be pretty exotic, for its time.

Tacos – with packaged seasoning mix cooked with ground beef. Also exotic.

Canned Chinese food – also exotic, which I guess was served for those nights when a trip to the Ming Tree wasn’t feasible.

Stuffed bell peppers – when we were little, she’d make an alternate dinner for my sister and me, of unseasoned ground beef cooked in a small skillet. I still always associate that little aluminum skillet with stuffed bell peppers.

Aunt Debby’s Rolls – a recipe from my Aunt Debby (which you might have figured out), with All Bran cereal as the main ingredient. I think there’s a chance of an error in the handwritten recipe, because the rolls never did rise up to be more than a half-inch high. But still, these rolls were a staple, and the recipe was never modified. Or switched out for another one.

Scotch Cake – a chocolate sheet cake with a pecan and coconut topping. The note on the typed recipe card says, “I don’t understand the name of this cake. I just call in my ‘boil it’ cake.”

Pie crust – oddly enough, though my mom wasn’t a terrific cook, she made excellent pie crusts, using the recipe straight off the inside back cover of the Betty Crocker cookbook.

I have her recipe card box and a couple of binders with her recipe collection. Most of the recipes are handwritten, and include her unique spelling style. If you know what I mean.

There are two mysteries in the binders:

Mackerel Loaf – I have absolutely no recollection of this at all, but the page is stained as though the recipe was prepared at least one time. Reading through the ingredients (canned mackerel, chopped pickles, eggs, milk, white sauce) makes me think there is a possibility of a repressed memory. Maybe my memory of smelly tuna casserole is actually a memory of mackerel loaf.

Stir ‘n Roll Biscuits – this is written in my dad’s handwriting. He never made biscuits. Ever. Why would he have copied down a recipe?

***

So, when it was time to clean out the house, which had been vacant for a year, the sad contents of the pantry reminded me all over again of how much we’d lost.

***

I’d be happy to share the mac and cheese recipe. And if you ask nicely, I’ll throw in the mackerel loaf one, too.

***

PS – My parents mourned the decline of Furr’s Cafeteria. The grand piano in the corner disappeared. The tea cart ladies did, too. But the one thing that my folks felt symbolized the decline was when the silverware was no longer wrapped in cloth napkins. My dad still talks about that. And now he points out that the cloth napkins at his assisted living center have been replaced by paper ones, which disturbs him.