Clearly, today’s post is not about a novel. For that, I apologize.
The truth is that I tried very hard to pick one for today’s post, but discovered that I didn’t feel strongly enough about any of my recently-read ones to write about them. It’s not that I haven’t been reading—shameless little plug for my Goodreads here—but sometimes, there are books that just don’t click. Someone else has said what you thought more eloquently, and there isn’t anything new to add. And there are books I’d like to cover in future posts, but more mulling time is necessary to form better, more coherent thoughts.
So let’s take a break and go in a totally different direction today: cookbooks.
I love cookbooks. They’re inherently aspirational, and yet, there is something so relaxing about curling up with a well-curated cookbook, being patiently guided through the steps of each recipe and learning about the stories behind them. Writing cookbooks feels like an especially personal and vulnerable affair, and the best ones leave me with a feeling that I better understand not just how to make the recipes, but the author as well.
I’ve also noticed that, when it comes to cookbooks, I just read what I want. I thought I did this with novels, but more often than not, my reading list is dictated by others. What literary novels my mentors advise me to read, what other authors considers paragons of their genre, what the book-blogging community currently recommends. But in the genre of cookbooks—especially since I’m not an aspiring chef or food blogger—I don’t have that kind of pressure. I can read what I want, and I don’t need a reason why.
It’s something I can appreciate, every now and then. And I hope you’ll find something out of these books too.
The Little Paris Kitchen by Rachel Khoo
If you haven’t seen Rachel Khoo’s original BBC series by the same name, do yourself a favor and watch it now. You’ll dream of having your own teensy-tiny Parisian apartment to come home to after a day of strolling Paris’ famous markets and whipping up your own French dishes for a dinner party.
That’s essentially what Khoo did when she turned her apartment into Paris’ smallest restaurant, and in this book, she’s collected the recipes she prepared for those diners as well as herself. French classics get a nod in her book, like ratatouille and steak tartare, but Khoo is far more interested in how the French home cook prepares simple and elegant meals and how she can give her own twist to those quintessentially French bistro and restaurant classics. For that reason, her recipes may have daunting French names, but the methods are approachable while staying true to the dish’s history. I’m partial to the dessert chapters, especially the clafoutis and lemon-raspberry madeleines, but I also love her truite en papillote (trout in parcel) and moules marinières (mussels in white wine).
Land of Fish and Rice by Fuschia Dunlop
Fuschia Dunlop is well-known for writing cookbooks that highlight the regional cuisines of China, and in her most recent book, Land of Fish and Rice, turns its attention to the Jiangnan region. This cuisine of this area doesn’t have the mouth-numbing spice of Sichuan/Hunan food or the heavy, salty flavors of Cantonese-style food—instead, it’s described as qingdan, a term which can mean “bland,” but in this case means comforting and refreshing. The region is blessed with abundant farmland, rivers, and proximity to the sea, and the natural flavors of the ingredients are enhanced through seasonings, rather than masked.
Jiangnan food is also what I grew up eating at home, and it’s crazy to see those dishes recognized in the glossy pages of a real book. Dunlop’s recipes are authentic as possible (her own variations are always noted), while still being easy to recreate for the English-speaking world. Family friends and relatives joke about learning Chinese food from a white lady, but hey—the cookbook world could use more books dedicated to China’s vast culinary heritage, and she’s done her part to capture each region’s uniqueness with a tremendous diligence and respect. If you’re trying Jiangnan food for the first time, I highly recommend cai pao fan, or soupy rice with veggies. As Dunlop mentions, there are lots of different variations, and I like lots of ginger to give it real spice.
The Vanilla Bean Baking Book by Sarah Keiffer
My story with this book starts with Hummingbird High’s variation on blogger Sarah Keiffer’s picture-perfect cheesecake. Side note: if you’re not already following Hummingbird High, do it now. Michelle makes the most wonderful, whimsical bakes, and is extremely thorough in detailing her technique to ensure a great bake can be replicated in your kitchen.
I’m still making my way through Keiffer’s book, but already, I’m impressed with how many recipes have been crammed into it and all the different variations she’s included for each bake. There are so many recipes, ranging from coffee shop classics like banana bread and scones, to a huge variety of cakes, cookies, and even ice cream. In her introduction, Keiffer explains how she used to work as a baker in a number of coffee shops, and the dedication to honing and perfecting her craft shows. She knows just how to experiment and teak a recipe to make go from delicious to utterly amazing, and I learned so much just from reading about her baking process. If you’re a novice baker looking for some good recipes to practice on, this is a great place to start.
And if you want to make Keiffer’s cheesecake, I highly recommend following her tips closely (except I suggest placing the roasting pan on the lowest rack and not the floor of the oven). I also love Michelle’s trick of rubbing lemon zest into the sugar for an extra something special and the speculoos crust, but I couldn’t find any biscuits in time. Lastly, this recipe makes a lot of batter and so if you find yours close to overflowing like mine did (maybe mine was a tad small?), try making cheesecake bites in a muffin tin with the leftover instead. You won’t regret the extras!
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