A few years ago, when I heard about the death of my old friend Beth, the first thing that came to mind was her copy of The Joy of Cooking. Missing its white paper cover, swollen with dozens of spills, bristling with scribbled-on scrap paper recipes and newspaper clippings, it was a testament to her wild, unconventional spirit, to her unmediated generosity and hospitality. I could see her standing in the kitchen, grinning her crooked-tooth grin, "The Joy" opened to the infamous, almost unreadable brownie page, thick with cocoa powder and sticky splatters.
My own favorite cookbooks bear the patina of years of use. Lately I've taken to noting in the margins when I cooked something and what happened, who was there and even the weather or news events.
These books offer more than recipes and cooking advice, they now also tell a story, not just about me but about the time that I lived, and the possibilities therein.
Beth and I are not alone in riding our cookbooks hard. Deborah Madison writes in her new introduction to the 10th anniversary edition of Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone:
People come with their old books, pages tattered and stained with soup, inked with comments, and stuck with sticky notes. One, recently returned to me, was signed by all the monks who had used it in their monastery kitchen. The remains of the torn jacket were glued to the cover and the pages were so swollen with spills that the book was nearly twice its normal thickness. Clearly this old copy had had quite a workout, but nothing makes me happier than to see my books so much the worse for wear.
Perhaps I'm just getting old, but the shiny new is loosing its appeal these days and I find that I am more interested in the worn and wrinkled and dented, more intrigued by what has remained and endured. This is just as true for a tea cup or an old fence as it is for a well-used cookbook. It is especially true for a human face.
My friend Beth stipulated in her will that "The Joy" go to her daughter-in-law and future grandchildren. I have to think how relevant and alive this rumpled volume must be to those who are now carrying forward the tradition of crooked smiles and brownie bake-offs. If they can manage to pry apart the batter-glued pages, that is.
So what cookbooks have shaped your life and what kind of shape are they in? Is there one in particular that is so embodies you that you would include it in your will?
(Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone photo by Patrick McFarlin. Cookbook photo by Dana Velden.)
My version of the taped-up, splattered and written-on cookbook is Joza Brizova's Czechoslovak Cookbook. The spine is cracked and falling apart, and there are newspaper clippings of recipes stuck inside, as well, all the end-paper is written on with recipes... recipes from my grandmothers (now both dead), my step-grandmother, my mother, and lost friends.
I just wish I could get a definitive dumpling recipe.
other than that, I have magazine recipes that are splattered and written on, in plastic sheaths, as well as internet recipe printouts, with all my annotations on modifications.
view mschatelaine's profile
Mine is Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant.
The spine is broken, pages are loose and splattered with food stains, and I've written notes all over the inside of it, to keep track of recipe modifications or to note favorite recipes on the inside cover.
This cookbook totally changed my philosophical approach toward cooking, and it turned me into a healthy-eating, "part-time" vegetarian. I'll never replace it!
Daniel Koontz
Casual Kitchen
view Daniel Koontz's profile
Brava for this wonderful piece---In a sea of culinary bobbleheads, it's nice to know that real authors are creating real books meant to be used (and splattered upon, repeatedly) by real people. This hit me at my heart. Thanks so much. This is what it's all about.
Oh, and my favorite? Jean Anderson's Doubleday. Or Suvir Saran's first book. Or Naomi Duguid and Jeffrey Alford's second book. Wait, let me go into my library.....
view Elissa Altman's profile
Mine is the Fannie Farmer cookbook, it's dogeared, stained and the spine is broken and it's a replacement copy. I also just bought a well used copy of The French Chef Cookbook that I am looking forward to using myself. I have a little tin circa 1969 that has all my mother's recipes handwritten by her that I treasure.
view acushla's profile
Mine is my grandmother's old red & white gingham Better Homes & Gardens cookbook. Some pages are falling out, it's stained and marked up from her notes and variations, and I love it. She stuffed some personal recipe cards in the back, as well as recipes from friends.
view sarahduckie's profile
Nigella´s "How to Eat". It´s only 5 years old, but already many pages are stuck together and the spine is cracked. Priceless.
view lobstersquad's profile
My mom has an old Betty Crocker cookbook with faded, yellowed, stained pages, and a spine that is barely holding togther. This post made me realize how much I associate that book with my childhood, and the many hours I spent at my mother's elbow in the kitchen just watching her cook.
view J's profile
Lovely post. I, too, prefer things that display marks of history over the shiny new.
In the realm of cookbooks, I would have to say my oldest and most tattered is a modest paperback I picked up at a local bookstore when I was 15. It's called "The Wellesley Cookie Exchange Cookbook," a collection of heirloom cookie recipes by a group of ladies in Wellesley, MA who got together every December to exchange goodies. It's so quaint it makes me feel like I'm in Little House on the Prairie every time I bake from it.
The next most earmarked cookbook would be Mark Bittman's "How to Cook Everything."
view ay's profile
Just like acushia, I'm on my 2nd copy of the Fannie Farmer cookbook and it is one of my favorite gifts to give!
view alexisfromtexas's profile