Cookbook Addiction

The Unyielding has come and gone, its wave of destruction come and gone. After the plague I was left with only one or two good cookbooks left (the indomitable Judy Rogers' is stronger than any paper devouring mold). The cookbooks I lost however were mostly pieces of crap - ones where recipes were poorly tested and didn't taste good. The pictures were lies, pretty, well lit, carefully staged lies that didn't accurately represent the dishes. The Unyielding destroyed it all.

However, it may have been a blessing in disguise.

After I posted about it Kalyn - you all know Kalyn, Demeter of the Food Blog Pantheon - read about my plea and sent me a kind gift. A copy of The Joy of Cooking. A culinary tome which I'm ashamed to say I didn't own before her generosity.

As I pulled Joy out of its packaging and opened the new cover with that ever satisfying crack that comes with popping the cherry of a new book binding. I began to pour through the book page after page, chapter after chapter. Recipes for Kwanza. The temperature to fry chicken at. What to look for in a healthy celery root. The proper method for shucking an oyster. How to properly set a table (I knew that one thanks to mom). It had the answers to everything and a delightfully motley mix of recipes from every walk and culture to boot.

Elise told me that the cookbooks I lost was a karmic favor to me. There was no point in owning anything that wasn't helpful. A good cookbook should inspire, enlighten, educate. A good cookbook should be read cover to cover late into the night with your nightstand lamp burning bright into the wee hours and with a flashlight under the covers after your parents tell you it's way past your bedtime.

It only takes one or two good experiences to cause one to develop an addiction. My few quality cookbooks were soon met with new authors. Tannis, Roden, Ong, Daley, Medrich, and Greenspan now sat next to Lebovitz and Waters. I began to pour through them to learn more about the culinary world like how to prepare Italian food with everyday ingredients, learning about the trials of pumpkin farming in Yolo County, and the alimentary practices of Hmong weddings.

Of course I'm doing my best to only pick the cream of the cookbook crop. Ones that have real soul and passion in them, that have an engaging story, cookbooks that transports me to the author's kitchen or where I can hear their voice whispering in my ear, "Sear the beef on every side. Small batches, and don't crowd them. Then add the star anise so they release their oils. You'll know it's done when it becomes aromatic."

Right now my current read is Andrea Nguyen's Into the Vietnamese Kitchen, a riveting book where every recipe has filled my kitchen with sweet smells of perky lemongrass and air heavy with the sticky scent of palm sugar, the smell luring my roommate down from her room for a helping of whatever perfumed dish I've made. In fact I have some chuck steak marinating right now for her recipe for beef stew with tomatoes, lemongrass, and star anise. Expect a review later on after I try a few more recipes out and finish reading it.

So is there any cookbook you love that I absolutely must check out?
By the way, there is a new post (of sorts) over at The Rhetoric of Rhubarb. Feel free to learn about the Balkan myth of vampire watermelons.