Confessions of a cookbook addict

I have a cookbook addiction.  There I said it.  I have hundreds easily but I’m a little afraid to count and really know.  They take over my dining room in a general organizational scheme – baking here (but bread over there), Asian on this shelf, vegetarian on that one.  Italian up here but French down there.  Reference books on the highest shelf, all purpose books in the middle for easy access.  The most recently used are stacked on my kitchen counter, waiting to be put back on the shelf.  A big fat pile is next to my couch – either just read or waiting to be read.  A tall stack of new purchases is on one of my dining room chairs waiting for a home.  I may need to move soon, just for more space.

I can’t help myself.  I’ll curl up on the couch with a new acquistion and read it like a trashy romance novel, devouring the pictures, making mental lists of recipes to try or techniques to pinch.  What I really love to do is find a good old used bookstore and check out the stock.  I’ve had great success here in Chicago, in San Diego, New Orleans, NYC, London.  They’re a great source for classics, out of print and odd topic books though I’ve had many a miserable flight home with heavy carry-ons and overweight luggage.  I can’t be held accountable when I find the mother lode.

Shopping a used bookstore is a hit or miss proposition because you never know what you’ll find.  It’s not like walking into a Borders with everything shiny and new, straight bindings, perfect book jackets and alphabetized titles right at your fingertips.  You have to work a used bookstore.  Usually, there’s no order whatsoever – books may be neatly shelved but more often than not are in big mish-mosh piles all around.  The owners are often eccentric.  The books could be in pristine condition but are more often “gently used” or flat out beat up with someone else’s cooking spatters and notes in the margins.  (I find it fascinating to read others notes.) There’s a certain smell to these stores too – sort of a combination of old wood, mildew, a little wet dog, coffee grounds and stale cigarettes.  Not unpleasant just distinct.  And sometimes – not always but sometimes – you’ll have to sidestep a few curious patrons discussing rare issues of Dr. Who paperbacks or the merits of Joyce’s Odyssey (coolest used bookstore story ever– I once observed Henry Rollins doing just this (Joyce, not Dr. Who) to some young fawn.  She had zero idea what he was talking about.  I was secretly delighted.)

Shopping used bookstores can be entertaining and a little bit sad as well.  Sometimes a book will have an inscription, a loving notation indicating that the book was a gift.  People get rid of books they don’t want, whether they were a present with a heartfelt inscription, something they outgrew or just never used in the first place.  A store clerk once told me the inscriptions in the self help books are particularly depressing.  Not sure if I find this sad, ironic or funny.  Perhaps all three.

As with most things difficult, you will be rewarded for your perseverance.  Visit a particular store regularly, and eventually they will have that which you seek.  Get to know the clerks and they’ll even put aside things you might like.  Some of my favorite books, most of them out-of-print, eventually turned up and along the way I found a lot of interesting things I had no idea I needed.  And I emphasize the word need, not want.  Like the Bernachon Chocolate book.  Or the Roux Brothers pastry book I bought in New Orleans.  They were both good finds that I now can’t imagine living without.  I may not use them often but there’s comfort in knowing they’re on the shelf.

I went for a walk the other night and decided to pop into one of my favorite shops.  You just never know.  I perused the shelves, pausing as I usually do on the Asian selection, wondering “how do you make tofu?”, before zeroing in on the baking books.  Nothing new though a few bread books looked interesting.  Maybe next time.  Then, tucked into a corner, I saw the Café Boulud Cookbook.  Hmmmmm.  I remember good reviews when it was released.  High accolades from the countries best chefs on the book jacket … Trotter, Keller, Vongerichten.  Dorie Greenspan as co-author; always a good indicator.  Martha wrote the intro.  And who am I kidding?  Chef Boulud is no slouch.  A very successful French born chef, Lyonnaisse no less, with several fantastic restaurants in NYC.  Some of my most talented friends have worked for him.  The guy makes the kind of food I love – hearty French bistro classics, refined modernized riffs on old favorites.   The recipes looked interesting and certainly do-able.

hmmm… interesting

And then I saw it.  The  “signed copy” tag peeking out the top.  How interesting.  I eagerly opened the book and saw the signature.  Cool.  Then I read the inscription:  “To Michael Kornick, best wishes and much success in cooking.  Daniel Boulud 11/99.”  I laughed out loud.  Michael Kornick is a successful chef/restaurateur in Chicago – his restaurant, mk is fantastic.  I couldn’t help but wonder how this particular book ended up in my little bookshop.  Was Kornick culling down his stuff in an attempt to simplify his life? (Maybe he has some tips for me.)  Did he have multiple signed copies and this was the extra?  Did a roving band of book bandits break into his home for hot items to re-sell?  In ten years, had he just decided that he didn’t need the book anymore?  It’s all very interesting to ponder. In the meantime, I decided that this was a boon and the book was destined to live with me.  And now it does.

After curling up and reading it cover to cover, I added it to a pile and decided that I need to actually start cooking out of these books again.  Yes, it’s true – I have a lot of books I haven’t cooked from.  Though I’ve read through all of them at least once and the pages are peppered with post-its, there are many from which I haven’t cooked a single thing.  I can hear some of you thinking “How odd?  Why buy a book you don’t use?”  Well, I just like reading cookbooks and many I do use.  Some are fanciful, beautiful, technically complicated books that fill me with inspiration (Alinea, French Laundry, elBulli.)  Some I reference frequently (Pierre Herme, Dorie Greenspan, Nancy Silverton, Mark Bittman.)  Some are my project books that I acquired to learn a particular thing (Reinhart bread books, canning/preserving, sausage making, sugar work, chocolate) and there’s the “one day I’m going to try that” project books (charcuterie, making my own cheese).  Some were my grandmother’s (polish cookery, intensive chinese cookbooks), some are single/regional cuisine (indian, thai, sushi, french and italian of all regions.)  Some are treasured family classics (my mother’s original MTAoFC and my grandmother’s Time Life set of Foods of the World.)  Many were good deals that were impossible to pass up – I’m a sucker for a bargain.  I try to cull it down every so often and don’t do a particularly good job of it.  I just like them all.

So this Boulud Cookbook.  Reading it made me very hungry.  This is always a good sign.  I’m definitely going to try a few recipes out before it hits the shelf.  But what?

Chicken Grand-mere Francine.  Onion Soup with Braised Beef Shank.  Socca Stuffed with Peppery Greens.  Far Breton.  Pancetta Wrapped Tuna.  Honey Glazed Chicken with Apples.  Gravlax.  Lemon Blueberry Ricotta Tart.  Soupe au Pistou.  Soupe Glacee of Cavallion Melon.  Tapenade Salad.  Root Vegetable Cassoulet.  Potato Almond Cake.  Candied Yellow Tomatoes with Thyme Ice Cream.

These are just the ones I wrote down on the first pass.  I’m making a pact with myself right here and now.  I am going to cook at least two things from this book before it nestles into its place on the shelf.  And then I just may work my way through the stack next to my couch.

Candied Yellow Tomatoes.  Huh.  I’m intrigued.

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