Simple Treasures: the Wisdom of Gladys Taber

The writings of Gladys Taber came into my life when I was quite young. My teen years were not the best, or the easiest for me, and so I used to read a lot of magazines on how to better my life, how to dress, etc. One day I came across a “Family Circle” Magazine which was running Taber’s column, “Butternut Wisdom”. I don’t remember if the magazine was free or if there was a small charge – ten cents or so - an amount I could afford on my very small file clerk’s salary. Each week I eagerly waited for the new issue and would carefully cut out the “Butternut Wisdom” column to paste in my Gladys Taber scrapbook. I would read and reread these columns every day.

Then one day, while browsing through a second-hand book store, I came across a book by Gladys Taber. A whole book of her ”Butternut Wisdom” columns. You can imagine my excitement as I quickly pulled the book down from the shelf and flipped through it. Oh the delight, the pleasure, the absolute joy of having found this treasure. Page after page of wonderful scraps of wisdom, happiness, sadness, and just pure life. The cost for this second-hand book was about $1.00 but to me it was worth a fortune. You can be sure I held the book tight as I ran to the cash register to buy it.

Since my own life was fairly empty at the time – no family to speak of - loneliness was a constant companion. Living in a rooming house, going to work each day, and coming home alone, the Gladys Taber columns and my new second-hand book became my family. Within Taber’s writing I could have the family unit I craved, the friends I wanted, and a warm house with a fireplace and smells of good cooking coming from the kitchen. Just imaging the smells brought back the memory of my own mother’s wonderful cooking when I was a child.

Soon I spent much of my free time scouting through second-hand book stores and, when I had the money, regular bookstores. I did manage to find several more books by Gladys Taber and they became my treasure trove. Not money, not gold, but my wealth was books by Gladys Taber.

Taber’s writing wasn’t the greatest I ever read, but it was probably the most memorable. Her writing was real and could provoke some great images as readers got up in the morning with her, cooked great meals with her, canned fruits and vegetables with her, and went out into the cold snow-filled mornings to feed the birds, check on the dogs, and to drink in the fresh air. Since I lived in California at the time, snow was something I rarely experienced so reading about cold snowy New England evenings in front of a fireplace provoked wonderful images of times gone by.

The books were not filled with confessions or secrets best not revealed. Taber revealed little about herself and her friend, Jill. She didn’t need to because the books were not read with a “gotcha” snicker, but rather were read by people who wanted to live as she lived but were prevented from doing so by life’s circumstances.

Through the years, my collection of Gladys Taber books increased. I concentrated mostly on her “Stillmeadow” books. Some of my favorites were: “Stillmeadow Daybook”; “Stillmeadow Cook Book”; “My Own Cook Book”; and “Especially Dogs”. But in essence I loved them all, each and every read-weathered page.

My favorite books were those about her dogs. “Especially Dogs” was a joy to read and I laughed and cried along with Taber as she described the ups and downs of raising litters of Cocker Spaniels. She never found a person who was worthy of owning one of her dogs – and I am sure, if she had had her way, none of them would ever have been sold.

Another book I loved was “Stillmeadow Album”. I enjoyed so much visually walking through her home, looking at her collection of Milk Glass. In fact, on one of the pages there was a photo of a Milk Glass spoon holder (I think that is what it was) with berries on it. Since I was always looking in antique shops for Milk Glass, a hobby that was inspired by Taber, imagine my great joy when I came across a spoon holder exactly like the one in the photo. It still sits proudly in my Ethan Allen Windsor Cabinet – a centerpiece in my homage to the Memory of Gladys Taber.

In her cookbooks she often would describe her cellar stairs and how she kept canned goods there that could be used to create a delicious lunch or dinner when friends dropped by unexpectedly. Many of the recipes were quite easy to make, and so I also started an emergency pantry, though I never seemed to have the number of unexpected guests drop in like Taber did. Taber was not a snob when it came to food. She was a good cook, but she used all types of ingredients for her meals – fresh, frozen, canned and dried. Whatever was available. I learned a great deal on how to combine assorted cans of tuna, beans, soup, and a warm loaf of bread into a great meal.

One time, several years ago when things were a bit tough financially, my husband and I invited a couple over for dinner. True to my “training” by Taber I made what I thought was a delicious Stroganoff. The ingredients were cut-up beef covered with flour and browned in a skillet, a can of cream of mushroom soup (undiluted), a can of mushrooms, a cup of sour cream, and salt/pepper as needed. This was served over cooked and kept-warm egg noodles and there was the usual side dishes of green beans, warm French bread, fruit, etc. Little did I know that the husband had not only gotten a ticket on the way to our house (he wasn’t wearing his seat belt) but he was also a food snob. He immediately asked me if I had used canned soup in the recipe and then went on to explain that one never used canned goods in any good recipe. Everything should be fresh. Needless to say, they were never again invited to our home for dinner, but then we were never invited over to their home for dinner. It seemed we were just too plebian in our food tastes.

And maybe that is why I loved Gladys Taber so much. She, too, was plebian in her tastes. Her cooking was good and hearty. Her home was warm and inviting. Her love of dogs was full and robust. She lived in a very old house with her best friend, and she welcomed others into her home with joy.

Gladys Taber gave me a home, albeit in my mind and emotions, when I had no home. She gave me a taste for good food, even if that food is simple and real. She taught me to laugh at myself and to enjoy my dogs even when they make a mess or tear up my best pair of shoes. She just taught me how to live, to love, and to be happy.

Gladys Taber, you will always have a place in my heart and on my bookshelves.