by Ariel, Adult Services Librarian
I have a cookbook for each stage of my life or, I should say, I have a pile of cookbooks for each stage of my life. Most of them currently reside in a dusty corner of my basement. Many are like old friends, others old adversaries. My comforting old friends hold recipes that blew away my dinner guests, helped me master important skills, or they contain my trusted standbys I turn to in difficult moments. My adversaries are mostly big, glossy cookbooks that remind me of discarded aspirations, feature overly fussy recipes, or require trips to three different grocery stores to find obscure ingredients. Good or bad, they all remind me of different periods in my life.
In my twenties, proudly in possession of my own tiny kitchen (more like a cockpit), I was determined to teach myself to become a superior home chef. I envisioned the sort of person who could confidently whip up a souffle, perfectly roast a chicken, and fold an omelet like a professional. I poured over 10lb books that promised to teach me the fundamentals of everything culinary (see America’s Test Kitchen Cooking School). Although I admit, to this day I’ve never made a souffle and my omelets are stubbornly sloppy.
In my thirties, armed with a slightly larger kitchen (dishwasher!) and a more realistic understanding of my skills, I made simple dals after long workdays (see Chetna’s Healthy Indian) and attempted to recreate recipes from amazing restaurants on the weekends (see Felidia and Vegetable Simple). This eventually gave way to the shock of parenthood and my baby food era of culinary discovery. The indispensable Super Baby Food and all the books of Annabel Karmel were my reliable heroes of those years.
The stack of books representing my 40’s is practical, less adventurous but clearly focused on getting solid, enjoyable results out of my cooking. Here I find workhorse entertaining books by Ina Garten and Martha Stewart as well as vegan cookbooks for every occasion (yes, I married a vegan).
Now that I’ve entered my 50’s, I find I am lowering the bar for myself. Trying to please all the picky palates in my life has proven difficult. So, I’ve recently turned to a new friend titled, “Good Enough: embracing the joys of imperfection and practicing self-care in the kitchen”. Every recipe in this book really IS good enough. Lately I’ve found that I prefer dipping into “visiting” cookbooks, friends who don’t take up residence or run the risk of overstaying their welcome. I enjoy our low-commitment relationship. I check them out of the library, flip through them picking and choosing bits that appeal to me…and then I return them to the library (sometimes after copying a few recipes). The visitors escape the dusty stacks in my basement, and I escape buyer’s remorse. If I sometimes feel a need to spend a full day making bagels (the best bagels ever btw) or cooking up an authentic cassoulet that only I will eat, I still have those stacks in the basement patiently waiting for me.
Getting ready for the holidays? Here are some of my recommendations:
East : 120 vegan and vegetarian recipes from Bangalore to Beijing
Nothing fancy : unfussy food for having people over
Sweet : desserts from London's Ottolenghi
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