For years, my mother wished my father would help more in the kitchen. He is a dish washing maniac (surgeons have a thing for sterilizing their instruments, after all), but I think she was getting a little tired of the "I cook, you clean" agreement. About two years ago, he decided to take up cooking. You should know that my father approaches his hobbies with great gusto, and cooking was no exception. Not one to be satisfied with mere mortal dishes like spaghetti and meatballs, he gravitated towards the most complicated recipe in Bon Appetit, which inevitably required ordering specialty ingredients online (needless to say, it's difficult to find pomegranate molasses in South Carolina.). The byproduct of this new interest was an eight inch tall pile of saved recipes stacked atop the microwave. Not only was it an eyesore, but anytime he wanted to find a recipe for a past success, an archeological dig ensued. So for Christmas this year, I customized a binder for his recipe-treasure. All it took was a three ring binder, kraft paper, and a Sharpie, and now he's a well-organized chef-enthusiast.