If you look at my shelves, the most worn book you’ll find is the near-ubiquitous “Joy of Cooking”. It’s a cookbook I have a real love-hate relationship with. I love it as a reference – if you want to know about something, you’ll very likely find it inside its pages. Last summer, while canning fruit and jams and preserves, I wondered about the ease of making soup, chili, stew and so forth using home canning instead of freezing. A quick glance through the “how to can meat” section told me that the short answer is just freeze it.
As a recipe book though, I dislike it. The recipes are usually more complicated than necessary (complex for the sake of complexity I sometimes think) and often suffer from annoying levels of cross-referencing; “start with x (recipe on page 188), followed by y (recipe on page 443) and then …”
Cooking is about technique, not recipes; most of the things I make are based on experience, training (Dubrulle’s classes were very helpful there), and experimentation. The majority of the time I cook without any recipe, except when I am making something like pie crust which, being a baking thing, requires some level of accuracy.
I am approaching 100 cookbooks on my shelves at home; some of them I have never cooked from, and possibly never will; some I use all the time, thought more as inspiration for using an item on hand than for a specific recipe. Otherwise, the most referred to “books” are the binders of notes and recipes from the various workshops and courses I took though the Dubrulle Culinary School’s “Serious Amateur” program.
Some of my cookbooks are reference tomes; some are regional cookbooks acquired on travels around the world; some are beautiful “coffee table” books; most are in English, but I have a few in French and German as well. Very few of them are recipe repositories – indeed, I find it faster to visit Google to find a recipe for something specific than to search through my tomes.
My favourite reference book is the large, heavy, and expensive (but worth every penny) Larousse Gastronomique. I have several other reference books, but Larousse is to the others as the Oxford English Dictionary is to dictionaries.
The Alsace region of France is the home of my favourite food in the world, so it should come as no surprise that my favourite regional cookbook is La Cuisine Alsacienne by Pierre Gärtner. There is an English edition of this book available, but the edition I have is one of the few French language cookbooks I have.
For desserts I turn to two principal sources; Regan Daley’s In the Sweet Kitchen, which is as much cookbook as baking reference; and Rick Rodgers’ Kaffeehaus, which has desserts and pastries from Vienna, Budapest, and Prague.
I love bread. Atkins would never work for me because I need good bread in my life. I bake my own as a rule – the light rye I’m known for came from Brotrezepte aus ländlichen Backstuben. Another indispensable source of inspiration for me is The Breads of France.
I have many more potential categories, but these along with my binders of notes and my kitchen journal provide me with all the inspiration and recipes I need for the foods I like to cook.
For eye candy, I have several of the Culinaria series books – Deutschland, France, Italy, Spain, and the European Specialties compendium. I also have both of Thomas Keller’s books (The French Laundry and Bouchon). They’re all very lovely coffee table books.
When I travel, either for business or pleasure, I like to find a local cookbook. I’ve particularly enjoyed Barossa Food, which I picked up in Adelaide. It’s almost not a cookbook so much as a history of how food traditions in the Barossa happened, but it’s complete with recipes. Legal Sea Foods is a chain of restaurants in New England that make very good food indeed; this was a “find” on one of my trips to Boston.

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