As with many types of addictive behavior, it began with just one small episode. In this case “it” was a cookbook of only 64 pages. And the price set me back the sum total of my babysitting money from the previous Saturday.
I trudged all the way from my house on one side of town to the campus bookstore at Washington State College, that money burning a hole in my pocket. Little did I know I was starting down a road of no return, falling into one of the Life’s pleasurable sensations, that of acquiring cookbooks, as well as the perks of doing so. Eating. Armchair travel. Ownership. Cooking.
To cook the first recipe from that Peter Pauper Press edition of Simple French Cookery, I dragged my mother’s fondue set – until then gathering dust in the laundry room – into the kitchen of our old house, a white-frame farmhouse built in 1888. Swiss Fondue, it sounded so stylish to me. The fussiness of the thin tiny forks and the little sterno pot reminded me of playing with my dollhouse when I wasn’t much younger than the kids I babysat. Later, one wintery Sunday morning, my father and I followed the crêpes recipe in Simple French Cookery, filling the delicate pancakes with strawberry jam Dad made with berries from our summer garden. That recipe became a family breakfast tradition for many years, until I left for university.
But the irony of that first cookbook of mine turned out to be this: Until a few decades later, aside from Julia Child’s red cabbage and her classic boeuf bourguignon in Mastering the Art of French Cooking 1 & 2, I dismissed French cooking, believing it to be too fussy, too boring, and too passé. Instead, I picked up books about vegetarian cooking, such as Laurel’s Kitchen (now worth some serious money in hardcover) or The Vegetarian Epicure. Because of my quite thin wallet, I also copied recipes from a slew of cookbooks, including The Pepperidge Farm Cookbook, and filled a dozen lab notebooks with my increasingly illegible scribblings.
Then I spent some time in France, and all that changed. I even attended short-term classes at the Cordon Bleu cookery school in Paris. Over several years, I stuffed a whole bookcase and more with cookbooks solely about French cuisine. The endless variations on basic ingredients enthralled me.
Thanks to culinary magazines riding a foodie craze, Italian cuisine edged its way into my heart, and I filled up another bookshelf with over 125 Italian cookbooks. During the course of one year, I cooked only Italian food daily. Like French food, Italian cuisine also demonstrated to me a tremendous variation in the use of basic ingredients.
All these cookbooks – over 3000+ – became a serious problem, given their weight, the space they claimed in my house, and the fact that I tended to forget which ones I owned or never even opened the covers after the initial thrill of buying them. So before my latest move in 2017, I culled almost 2500 books, by donating them to a community college culinary arts program. Cold turkey.
Was it painful? Yes, it hurt a lot to see them boxed up and carted off like so much debris after a severe tropical storm.
Did I cry? Yes, I did.
I still feel sad when I search for a certain cherished title on my shelves and realize that a well-loved friend no longer lives here. And yes, I’ve brought a few of my old friends back, buying cheap used copies, without the stains and tears on the pages I used to turn, marking some with post-it notes and scrawls, for some future kitchen adventure.
I’m still addicted to cookbooks. Cooking, too.
Recently I bought used copies of Joanne Harris’s cookbooks, with recipes suited to the bonne femme, or housewife, style of cooking. None of that fussy haute cuisine stuff. Books such as these, spilling over with crisp, colorful photographs of La France profonde, remind me of past days, a happy time when I could make an airline reservation – provided I saved my money and avoided extravagant purchases of new cookbooks – and actually fly to France.
While it’s a poor substitute for a leisurely evening meal in a Paris restaurant, for dinner tonight I’m cooking chicken thighs to taste like osso bucco and a salad of greens sparkling with a sharp vinaigrette and seasoned with Roquefort.
As Julia would say, “Bon appétit!”
Full circle, yes.
8 thoughts on “A Cookbook Addiction”
Thank you for writing, for some reason I am just seeing this wonderful message. So glad you’re liking Meatballs & Lefse.
How much fun to hear from you and know that I am not alone in having a passion for cookbooks! Thank you so much for writing and sharing. I agree, while we can find virtually anything on the internet, it’s not the same when it comes to recipes.
Cynthia, you post truly resonated with me! I too have a “thing” about cookbooks – especially old ones. I have my mother’s cookbooks and text book from when she was in Home Ec in Philadelphia in the 40s (I love them!). I had collected so many cookbooks, I like you, rarely looked at some to them after the initial purchase. I culled mine last year (my family thought I had lost my mind) and donated the ones who didn’t make the cut after I gave friends and family a first chance at them. I will probably do a second culling in a couple of years before we move. I love cookbooks – I thrill when I get a new one and like them way better than internet recipes. Yes, doing a quick Pinterest search will provide a lot of good options, but sitting down with a book, selecting a recipe, making notes on the pages, etc. provides me with a sense of satisfaction I can’t get from the internet. Besides, I have so many pins saved, I can never remember which recipes I’ve already tried!
Thanks, Kitty. Sure hope we can meet F2F one of these days for a leisurely lunch!
Full circle for you seems like publishing wonderful cookbooks for your lucky readers to buy! I’m currently enjoying Meatballs & Lefse, thank you.
Cynthia, you always hit the nail on the head! French cooking I grew up with, so my first American cookbook was the New York Times cookbook, then a copy of The Romagnoli’s Table. How I loved that TV show..and Dinah Shore. Someone’s in the Kitchen with Dinah! Luckily, many of my cookbooks have found shelf space on college and university libraries– collectors, keep on looking!
Merci et bon appétit to you,
Hi Catherine, stay persistent, for somebody will hear you eventually and welcome the treasure you’re offering them. Thanks for sharing!
Oh how your post echoed. I have a serious number of cookbooks on my (sagging) bookshelves. I know I can probably get a good recipe from the internet, but I love browsing a book. I am a thrift store hound and almost always sniff out a cookbook I haven’t seen to add to my collection.
I recently retired as a horticulture instructor and have had to move that collection out of the school to a storage locker. I promise myself I’ll go and purge, but just can’t. It was good to hear that you bit the bullet and let go of your collection. I would like to donate them to a good cause, but no one at any institution responds to my inquiry.
I hear you sister!
Thanks for your post.
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