Aunt Rose’s Buckeye Candy
Peanut butter centers dipped in chocolate, with the familiar uncovered top that makes each candy resemble an Ohio buckeye.
The teacher who left her recipes in shorthand
Aunt Rose inherited the flavors of an Italian-American family, but she preserved them in a distinctly twentieth-century way: on recipe cards gathered from relatives, friends, magazines, newspapers, parties, and everyday life. Many were written in the shorthand she once taught—leaving one final lesson for the family members trying to read them decades later.
Rose was the daughter of Pasqua and Rosario Contino. Her mother cooked largely from memory, measuring by instinct and passing recipes along by watching, tasting, and doing.
Rose belonged to the next generation. Born and raised in York, Pennsylvania, she collected recipes in the style of mid-century America: handwritten cards, clipped ideas, party foods, holiday candy, and dishes exchanged among family and friends.
Rose earned a degree in business education and taught shorthand and typing. She used those skills on her own recipe cards—sometimes so efficiently that entire instructions were reduced to a few quick marks.
After her death, her daughter began sharing the cards with me. Together, with some help from modern technology and a healthy dose of Recipe Detective caution, we are translating and preserving them one at a time.
This is not intended as a full genealogy. It is the story of the woman behind the recipes—and Rose was far too interesting to be described only as someone’s aunt, wife, or mother.
No portrait of Rose would be complete without the stories that cannot always be documented. Family members remember that she won two automobiles in her younger years—one from a twenty-five-cent police raffle and another from a lawnmower advertising contest. The details remain elusive, so the story stays where it belongs for now: in the family-lore file.
She also believed she possessed a low-level talent for finding lost things, enjoyed testing her luck in Atlantic City and Las Vegas, and was convinced that one location of the saddle shop was haunted because merchandise seemed to rearrange itself overnight.
Rose was successful, generous, competitive, intuitive—and undeniably a character.
Family recollections are identified as such. Documented facts and family stories are both worth preserving, but they are not treated as the same kind of evidence.
Only four recipes have been translated so far. This page—and the downloadable recipe collection— will grow as more cards arrive.
Peanut butter centers dipped in chocolate, with the familiar uncovered top that makes each candy resemble an Ohio buckeye.
A distinctly mid-century combination of chocolate cookies, lime gelatin, vanilla pudding, and whipped cream—with one shorthand step still open to interpretation.
An early, chocolate-free cousin of modern graham-cracker toffee, made with butter, sugar, and sliced almonds.
A warm party dip from the canned-seafood-and-processed-cheese era, intended for Pringles or lobster crackers and still holding a few mysteries.
The PDF includes photographs of the original recipe cards, our best shorthand translations, modernized directions, confidence notes, and Recipe Detective commentary. As new cards are translated, the collection can be replaced with an updated edition without changing this page.
Download the Recipe PDFCurrent edition: four translated recipes. Some instructions remain uncertain; experimentation may be required.
During my final two years of medical school in Philadelphia, money was tight. I chose distant rotations whenever possible because hospitals more than fifty miles from the school were required to provide room and board. Some rotations, however, had to be completed in Philadelphia.
Aunt Rose opened her New Jersey home to me so I could commute into the city. She did more than provide a place to sleep. She stocked the house with foods she knew I liked—an act of practical kindness that a tired and hungry medical student never forgot.
Years earlier, when I first moved to Philadelphia, she had taken me apartment shopping and helped me get settled. That was Rose: she noticed what people needed, then did something about it.
Grandma Contino passed down an unwritten kitchen. Rose turned that inheritance into a box of twentieth-century recipe cards—some familiar, some mysterious, some written in a language of shorthand that now has to be rediscovered.
Her legacy is larger than four recipes. It lives in the students she taught, the golf matches she played, the business she built, the family members she encouraged, and the people she welcomed into her home.
Every card we translate brings one small piece of Rose back to the table.