The recipe your grandma never wrote down is history. Learn it before it’s gone.

Knowledge that lives only in somebody’s hands disappears with them, and family cooking is almost entirely that kind: amounts by feel, timing by smell, a step never said out loud because it seemed obvious. It is history in its plainest form and there is no backup copy.

Ask to make one dish alongside whoever makes it, not to watch but to do the stirring. Write down what they say while their hands are moving, including the vague parts, because the vague parts are the recipe.