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Does anyone still use cookbooks, like the old-fashioned printed variety? When I tell you I have hundreds of them, I'm probably underestimating what's still in boxes in the garage waiting to make it onto the bookshelves of our new house. The living room shelves are full, as are the ones in the kitchen. I read them like novels.
I thought it might be fun to share some of my favorites with you, starting with the basics, and if there's an online link I'll share that too. Please, please share some of yours as well — I'm always up for a new discovery. Consider this the first installment in an ongoing series. I have far too many cookbooks and far too many opinions about them to fit into one post, so I'll be coming back to this shelf by shelf, favorite by favorite, over the next several posts.
Of course, I find wonderful recipes and people and entire communities online as well. One favorite is Deb Perelman from The Smitten Kitchen. I grew up and learned to cook in a tiny New York City kitchen — smaller than hers, even — and I love her organized approach to working efficiently in a small space. I also love her easygoing, practical style, and her food mirrors what I tend to cook at home now. You can find her bestselling cookbooks online — my favorite is probably Smitten Kitchen Keepers.
Then there's New York Times Cooking, a source of inspiration on a daily basis. Good writing, delicious and often inventive recipes I might not have thought to make on a Tuesday night. The revised printed version of the cookbook that Amanda Hesser just did takes this classic up a level, updating tastes and techniques with countless witty headnotes that are as much a delight to read as to cook from.
For me, though, the printed cookbooks are my go-to on a Saturday morning when I finally get back in the kitchen after a week of long days — and evenings — at my desk.
Each has a personality of its own, and through the years I've reached for them to find certain kinds of food that match whatever mood I'm in, or who and what I'm cooking for. I have an idea, I think about the kinds of cooks found on my shelves, and I find the perfect recipe. The physical pages work best for me when it's a dish that takes time — mine are splattered with past glories and scribbled notes. Many of these have made the successful transition to the digital realm, but given my compulsion for cookbooks old and new, plenty on my shelves are much harder to find.
First up, Patricia Wells. She's so well-known, and with good reason. Journalist, restaurant critic, organic gardener, teacher, author, cook — she's written countless articles and 15 cookbooks focused on understanding the food and culture of France, Provence, and Paris in particular. Her works have been translated, and all are available online — she's even got an app for finding food and restaurants throughout her adopted country.
Hers is a fantasy of the perfect fairytale life, with a husband she loves in a place she loves, but her cookbooks are grounded in the simple beauty and deliciousness of the bounty that France provides as raw material. I guess that's what resonates with me. Her recipes are straightforward, but they offer a perspective on flavor that's rooted in where she is. I've never spent enough time in France to satisfy my longing to understand the culture well, but these pages give me a way of experiencing an intimate bit of the flavors of that particular country.
One of my favorite books of hers is Bistro Cooking, published in 1989. As you can imagine, it's simple food you might find — if you're lucky — at any roadside restaurant or around the corner in a small-town neighborhood. Accessible and delicious.
I remembered one dish from it on a cold and rainy New England night in early January. Decades ago, my dearest friend was meeting my about-to-be husband for the first time. She made this meal for us that night, and after I raved about it, she sent me the cookbook with the recipe marked. I'm not a fan of fennel, but this wonderful stew, laced with saffron, opened my eyes to the sublime tones you can coax out of that lovely vegetable. It's not what most people associate with bouillabaisse, which mainly features seafood — instead, this takes simple chicken on a delicious new adventure. I've adapted it over the years to fit what I find easily in my local markets; its versatility is definitely part of its charm.
Adapted from Patricia Wells
Ingredients
Optional:
Directions:
The day before you're planning to make this, combine the fennel, onions, tomatoes, garlic, Pernod, and the herbs in a large, covered, oven-safe casserole dish. Mix thoroughly, then add the chicken and mix again. A large ziploc bag works too, if your fridge can't accommodate the casserole. Cover and refrigerate overnight, or at least 8 hours, stirring once or twice if you think of it.
The next day, remove the casserole from the refrigerator and let it come to room temperature — about an hour. Over medium heat, stir the chicken in its marinade, covered, stirring occasionally, for about 30–40 minutes. Add the chicken stock and potatoes and simmer for another 35–45 minutes, until the potatoes are cooked and the chicken is tender and cooked through. Taste and adjust the seasoning as needed.
I serve this with a dollop of aioli and a shower of chopped scallions and parsley, for a bit of fresh zing and a creamy finish. You can use those, or serve it just as it is, alongside a crusty baguette and a crisp white wine, for a delicious one-pot supper.
