Cookbooks are my vice. I buy them even when unemployed. I read them over and over and over again — slumped over the kitchen counter, on my bed, in the hammock, on the sofa, on the floor. They comfort me. When I’ve had a particularly crapola kind of day, they give me hope.
I read lots of other books, too, but cookbooks are my security blanket.
Here’s a bit of what lines my kitchen shelves:
A Return to Cooking (Eric Ripert and Michael Ruhlman)
American Food (Evan Jones)
Aquavit (Marcus Samuelsson)
The Art of Eating (not a cookbook but a collection of works by M.F.K. Fisher)
Baking & Pastry: Mastering the Art and Craft (Culinary Institute of America)
Bittersweet (Alice Medrich)
The Bread Bible (Beth Hensperger)
The Cake Bible (Rose Levy Beranbaum)
Classic Indian Vegetarian and Grain Cooking (Julie Sahni)
(no, I am not a vegetarian)
A Dish of Tea (Connor Prairie Museum)
The Enchanted Broccoli Forest (Molly Katzen)
How to Be a Domestic Goddess (Nigella Lawson)
How to Eat (Nigella Lawson)
James Beard’s Theory & Practice of Good Cooking
The King Arthur Flour Baker’s Companion (written by my peeps at KAF, of course)
The Little House Cookbook (Barbara M. Walker)
The Moosewood Restaurant Kitchen Garden (David Hirsch)
(nestled among tomes dedicated to fat and sugar, of course)
The Pat Conroy Cookbook (Pat Conroy with Suzanne Williamson Pollok)
The Pie and Pastry Bible (Rose Levy Beranbaum)
The Southern Junior League Cookbook (Edited by Ann Seranne)
p.s. I have a thing for southerners, though I am not one myself. And a thing for all things Scandinavian, including half of myself. I also have a thing for baked goods. And fish. And smoked things. And chocolate things. And pickled things. And spicy things.
Basically, I have a thing for everything.