On recipe reduction

   I have a recipe for something called pecan pillows, essentially pecans and brown sugar wrapped in crescent roll dough and baked for 20 minutes. I've had this recipe since 1986. I've never tried it.

   The pecan pillows recipe is in an aged photo album, along with about two dozen other recipes and sundry makeup tips clipped from Seventeen magazine during my three-year subscription. Some recipes (and makeup tips) were once tried; others, like the pecan pillows and "Wipeout Watermelon Cookies" linger untested.

   Five feet from where I'm sitting, 10 years' worth of cooking magazines haphazardly fill a plastic deck chair. Some stick out of a tote bag. Others lay on the floor where they tumbled. Most of the magazines are dog-eared to mark recipes that looked good, that piqued my or my husband's interest enough that we wanted to remember and maybe, eventually, try them.

   I keep two recipe boxes in a kitchen cabinet. In one, cards of different sizes, designs and shapes are jammed so tightly I have to pull entire sections out when flipping through for ideas. Some feature the neat artist's handwriting of my mother or the tiny lettering of my husband's grandmother. Many are in my own schizophrenic hand: sometimes tall and neat, sometimes round and indecipherable, always full of abbreviations. Most of the cards were made with newspaper or magazine clippings, an index card and a glue stick. Some recipes are regular parts of my dinner repertoire; others sit there.

   The other box is earmarked for recipes that have been tested and met approval. It's easy to find recipes in there; there are only about 15.

   Then there are the binders representing last year's unfinished effort to eliminate the backlog of magazines, the cookbooks, and the terrible habit of reading the Dining & Wine section of the New York Times.

  About a month ago, I decided it was time to let some recipes go. I've decided this several times before, actually, jettisoning cards for dishes I know I'll never, ever make (anything with mayonnaise, for starters) or copying down one or two recipes before donating a cookbook to the library. But my biggest problem with clearing out a 23-year-old recipe collection is my fear of getting rid of something really good.

  This time, the plan is different. My goal is to test out at least one recipe a week and work from there. Eventually, I hope to weed out the duplicates and not-so-great dishes, get a better idea of the non-starters, and maybe, just maybe, get this cleaned up before my oldest son goes to college.