My ancestors were a colorful bunch, but they were not cooks. My Grandma’s grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches and brownies were spectacular. Since we liked them so much, and we only visited her for a week in the summers, that’s all she would make us – for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Inheriting three collections of treasured, sticky recipes tucked into  boxes and books seemed like a goldmine. Unfortunately 99% of them called for boxes of JellO, canned condensed soup, and/or Crisco. The only decent cook on either side was my Mother’s Grandmother, Catherine Miller. She was a first generation German/Russian immigrant who came to Washington near the turn of the 20th century. I remember her as a tiny woman with thin dresses and a thick accent. Mom had a few fond memories of rustic cabbagey and noodley dishes, but all I ever remember tasting at her house was second hand…