More than a few recipes in the Book of Lambert come to us in a state of disrepair. Sometimes their age makes them literally crumble away at the corners. Other times, the paper hasn't been unfolded in so long that it breaks along the seams. Today's recipe is covered in brown stains, written in faded pencil on a yellow legal pad, and covered in a giant scribble. 

The handwriting appears to be my mother's, but the ballpoint pen scribbling is from me. I don't remember doing it, but the vague sense of discomfort I feel when I look at the page convinces me that a five year old version of myself used that pen to seek revenge for some slight. Of course, that might just be my imagination. Maybe I was happily doodling and then got yelled at. The point is that this recipe emanates unease, like that scene in every horror movie ever where someone is about to get killed but doesn't know it yet even though the audience does.

Anyway, here's a recipe for -- I don't know, some sort of pastry? -- and childhood angst.

1 medium onion [illegible] finely chopped
1/4 C olive oil
1 pkg frozen chopped spinach, thawed
1/2 lb feta cheese
6 oz pot [sic] or farmer's cheese
3 eggs beaten
1/4 C bread crumbs
1/2 lb phyllo sheets
1/2 C melted butter

Saute onion in olive oil 5 mins. Add spinach drained as much possible Simmer w/onion over low flame  [un?]till as much [illegible] possible evap. 

[Marginalia here: "5/5 max" and "Separat"]  

Crumble feta [in?] small pieces 
Add pot cheese and blend well
Add beaten eggs and mix well
Toss bread crumbs to onion / spin
Add to cheese
Stir till well blended
Butter dish
2 sheets phyllo -- fold into bottom and butter
Do by 2's till 10 sheets
Then spin layer
Another 10 sheets
Bake 425 degrees 20 min or till brown
Cool 5 mins

[Marginalia here: "300 degrees 1 hr"]

Scribal Marginalia: I have no particular point to make here, but after reading The Archivist's post and viewing the photo, I can recommend Charlotte Perkins Gilman's classic short story: "The Yellow Wallpaper."

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    The Archivist

    I am the Archivist: document thief and humble librarian. Look to me when you have questions; seek me out when the obscurities of Lambert custom are too baffling. 

    The Scribe

    I am the scribe.
    Daring and inspirational, it was I who authored the original Lost Text. I don't know where it is. When looking, you will not see it, for it resides nowhere in nothing.  And I? I am but here and there.


    August 2012


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