First Slice of LifeI have a confession. My collection of cookbooks is far too large. Recently, I began looking through all of them, trying to choose a few to give away, trying to whittle down my stash before we move to a much smaller home. But my cookbooks are like friends, some closer than others and I really can’t part with a single one. To make matters worse, I don’t just have zillions of cookbooks, I also have an enormous binder spilling over with well loved, food stained recipes I’ve collected from friends, family, the internet, the back sides of brown sugar boxes and the insides of can labels. They are written on napkins, small cards, bits of paper- whatever I could find when I was scribbling down directions for a tasty find. It’s kind of embarrassing. My binder is bursting. Recipes that once were neatly tucked into individual clear plastic sleeves and filed behind the appropriate divider, were now stuffed into the pocket of the binder, or worse yet, lost in a stack of jumbled up papers precariously stacked inside the front cover. Something had to be done. So one evening not too long ago, during a stretch of snow days when I couldn’t get out and had nowhere to be, I sat down with my recipe binder, in front of the fire, and went to work. As I leafed through the pages and the loose bits of paper, I found myself unable to say goodbye to any of them either. And so, instead, I found a way to tuck a few more recipes into each sleeve, to rearrange what was in there so that I could find room for just a few more old friends. Cooking brings me comfort, and my recipes are like dear old friends. I don’t know where all my cookbooks will fit in my new home, but they are going to have to squeeze in somewhere. Leaving them behind or letting them go just isn’t an option.