There is something I adore about an old, worn recipe - whether it's hand written or typed, on plain or lined paper. So much is expressed by the yellowed, acid-stained sheets. There's also something in the knowledge that it's been held dear by so many and changed hands under potentially interesting circumstances. In this case, the recipe above was obtained by my father-in-law from Baptist missionaries in Cameroon in the early 1960s when he was there as part of the Peace Corps. This (and pages for many other dishes) was prepared for foreigners working in isolated areas and called for ingredients available in local markets, the only alternative to the highly overpriced French stores that were found occasionally in some capital cities.
