I’m introducing a new feature to this blog: Misgebotten Recipes. The word is a transmutation of “misbegotten”, meaning ill-advised, hair-brained, or poorly started. The name comes directly from a goose, whose ancestral origins were rather confused–misbegotten. My grandparents loved to feed the geese at the river near their home in Clare, MI. This goose would return year after year. I met him several times. And he became so beloved that my grandparents’ dear friend Al Maciag, an acclaimed plein air painter, captured him in a lovely painting. My grandmother Bummie’s name for this goose was Misgebotten, a sort of tangled German/American Spoonerism that had a nice ring to it. We’ve been referring to him with this moniker ever since.
Misgebotten recipes are not recipes for goose dishes. They are the collection of recipes that I’ve squirreled away in my little recipe box. We all have a box like this: a resting place of hand-me-down recipes from family and friends, clippings from food magazines that represent our projected self-images, that must-have office potluck recipe, odd-ball collected recipes, our best intentions, amazing inspirations, and weird diversions.
How else do I explain a recipe for candied diorama Easter eggs? This came from an intense conversation with the mother of a good friend. The mother was a former Home-Ec teacher from Chagrin Falls, OH and she was undergoing chemotherapy for cancer. She came out to visit her daughter Bev, a friend of mine in Arlington, VA at Easter. During the visit, we talked about Easter eggs, and I discovered that she knew how to make real, edible diorama eggs. She sent me her recipe a week or so later. A couple months later she passed away. I have made her recipe only once, and my attempt was certainly not near her level of perfection, but it gave me a very personal glimpse into my friend’s wonderful family. Every time I look at that recipe I have an indelible image of Bev’s mom sitting at the picnic table telling me how to make the diorama eggs. I’ve lost touch with Bev, but I have her mom’s recipe immortalized in my black recipe box that is adorned with a rooster.
There are many other recipes and memories in that box. I am looking forward to going through the box and blogging about it. Some are recipes that I clipped as a high school student, thinking that I would need to know how to make Swordfish Provencal at some point in the future. Others are the recipes from my college roommates, such as the ever popular Pam’s Mom’s Sunday Chicken. This recipe was legendary not only for its tastiness but for the requisite skill of cutting up a whole fryer. My roommate Pam Leete (Pam Young now) instructed us all in how to do this. And, I have to say it is one of the most useful culinary skills I have ever acquired.
So, stay tuned! I’ll be putting up the old recipes as well as variations. A picture of the Misgebotten painting or the word Misgebotten will denote all these post in this series.