10 Cookbooks to Read in 2014

In the publishing world, cookbook season arrives each spring and fall, but my personal cookbook season is in December. It's a month when I'm usually gifted with an assortment of cookbooks I've been eyeing, and often place orders I've been procrastinating on all year. This year I took two weeks off in December, too, so I enjoyed (mostly) uninterrupted time to read the new additions to my library, as well as revisit some old favorites. 

With so many thoughtful, inspiring cookbooks on the market now, I wanted to offer a round up of some of my favorites from this past season, as well as recommend a few that are tried and true. If I left off any of your favorites, let me know in the comments!


1. Whole-Grain Mornings by Megan Gordon

Megan spent the first part of her career in the classroom as an English teacher, and now runs Marge, her Seattle-based granola company, and writes the lovely blog A Sweet Spoonful. Her first cookbook was released on New Year's Eve, and the copy I had pre-ordered months before arrived that afternoon. I spent the next morning snuggling on the couch, reading and taking notes on the recipes I wanted to make while watching the Rose Parade. By the afternoon, her quinoa crunch was in the oven, and my yogurt has never tasted better.

I especially love how the book is organized, with attention paid to the seasons, as well as the type of meal you're after (busy mornings, brunch, etc.). I've bookmarked many of the recipes to try in the coming weeks, but the ones that jump out to me most are from her chapter on the basics, because they form an anchor for so many other aspects of your meals. Homemade hazelnut milk, signature granola, and a tried and true whole-grain pancake mix will be inspiring me throughout the year.


2. A Commonplace Book of Pie by Kate Lebo

Part cookbook, part prose poem, part humorous and lyrical take on pie, Kate Lebo's slim but powerful volume can be read through over a cup of afternoon tea. The wisdom, however, will linger quite a bit longer, which is useful for both the pie scaredy cats (like me) and seasoned bakers. Her quirky and poetic descriptions seem effortless, and the two dozen watercolors and illustrations make pie come alive on the page. 


When Mollie Katzen wrote The Moosewood Cookbook in the late 1970sit helped elevate vegetarian cooking to the mainstream. The Heart of the Plate strikes a similar tone, and offers updated recipes to appeal to a new generation of home cooks. I like the directness of her writing style, as well as the gentle nudges that bring the recipe notes to life. She relies on color and texture to make vegetarian fare appealing to everyone, and offers plenty of comfort food recipes, like Peruviain potato stew, eggplant Parmesan burgers, and vegetable pizzas. There's truly something for everyone.


4. The A.O.C. Cookbook by Suzanne Goin

A.O.C. is one of my favorite restaurants in Los Angeles. Suzanne Goin's bold flavors are inspired by the mediterranean and North Africa, and are served in portions meant to be shared with your table. The atmosphere is reminiscent of a home in Santa Barbara, which also might have something to do with why I'm so comfortable there. Cozy fireplaces, patio seating, and Spanish tiles make us feel like we're up the coast in our favorite hotel, which is always a good thing. From the signature Zuni chicken with olives and croutons, to grilled fish nestled on top of a squash puree, or an elegant romaine salad with green harissa dressing, you'll find yourself charmed with every dish.


5. Healthy Bread in Five Minutes a Day by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois

This past fall I attempted the master recipe from Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day and was hooked immediately. Bread always seemed intimidating, but when you dump all the ingredients in a big container and leave it in your fridge for a week, homemade bread suddenly becomes attainable. This method is revolutionary for anyone who has ever thought baking bread at home wasn't for them. I received the latest installment under the tree this year, and have my eye on many recipes to try, including the whole wheat brioche and the seeded oat bread.


I've long admired Heidi Swanson's blog 101 Cookbooks, and found myself pulling this volume from the shelf frequently in 2013. It reminded me how much I  truly enjoy her recipes and cooking philosophy. The photography is inviting, like the foggy San Francisco home she invites you into throughout these pages. Her cooking sensibility is grounded in whole grains, fresh, seasonal produce, and simple cooking techniques that offer inspiring combinations, like harissa ravioli, chanterelle tacos, yogurt biscuits, and comforting baked oatmeal. 


7. An Everlasting Meal by Tamar Adler 

Perhaps one of the most beautiful books about food I've read in quite a while, Tamar Adler makes economy in the kitchen sound joyful, nourishing, and accessible, even despite our busy 21st century lives. From using bean broth instead of pouring it down the drain, to devoting three pages to discussing celery with language as captivating as Pablo Neruda's odes, you'll fall into a trance when reading, and discover a few tips along the way, too. This is the kind of book any food writer and home cook will adore for years to come.


8. The Kitchen Diaries by Nigel Slater

Nigel Slater's Tender has been on my shelf since last year, and it's one of my absolute favorite cookbooks. His writing style is poetic and accessible, paired with recipes that are simple enough to throw together any night of the week, make good use of seasonal produce, and instill a boost of confidence in the reader no matter what your cooking level. Slater doesn't fuss. That is, he cooks simply and honestly using the ingredients available, and makes every meal a real occasion. In The Kitchen Diaries, we follow him in the kitchen from January to December. Order a copy now, and keep it close throughout the year.


Pre-Order


If you read Kimberley's blog The Year in Food or follow her on Instagram, you know what an incredible eye she has. Her photographs are filled with light, energy, and gushing colors. Come June, you'll be able to hold that vibrancy in your hands. With recipes like winter pasta with nettle pesto and blistered snap peas, I can hardly wait to see the results of her hard work this past year, and to make space for this book to join my shelf.


10. The Homemade Flour Cookbook by Erin Alderson (June 1, 2014)

Erin is known for healthy, vegetarian fare on her blog Naturally Ella, and offers useful guides to seasonal produce, bulk bins, and special diets. In her first cookbook, she's demystifying homemade flours--everything from almonds to legumes to seeds--and providing recipes to go alongside them. I know how hard Erin works and how passionate she is about this project, and I'm certain it will show on every page. Relying on all-purpose flour will be a thing of the past once you get your hands on Erin's new cookbook!

Literary City Guide: Cambridge, UK

Photo by Rachel Helen Smith

Photo by Rachel Helen Smith

After publishing the Oxford guide last year, I was promptly contacted by Cambridge-resident Rachel Helen Smith who reminded me of the healthy competition shared between these two cities, and ask if I might feature a Cambridge guide as well. 

Like Oxford, I spent a lovely afternoon in Cambridge well over 10 years ago when I was studying abroad in London. The city is charming, and the scholarly atmosphere will inspire you to snuggle up with a good book in one of the many cozy cafes in town. 


Stop by to welcome Cambridge to the Literary City Guides!


"turnip root" by Polly Hatfield + Turnip and Chard Buckwheat Tart

turnip buckwheat tart

You would think a turnip to be straightforward. After all, it's nothing more than a tuber, cream with a bright purple neck, peppery, bold, confident. Yet, we're put off. Very little in the way of turnip recipes feels inspired. We see them roasted, often with carrots or parsnips, the trio of roots tossed in oil and pushed to the side of our plate. I'm guilty of it myself.

Even one of my favorite food writers, Nigel Slater, had a slow start. "The Romans knew the turnip, though hardly worshipped it, and part of its problem may stem from the fact that it has always been used as animal fodder. It has taken me most of my life to appreciate the turnip."  I knew if Slater was reluctant, there would be little hope for the rest of us.

True to form, it took me three recipes to be happy. I made a tart the first time around, but it wasn't hearty enough. The turnips were thinly sliced on a mandolin, the circles too large. I waited two or three weeks before trying again. Next, root vegetable latkes. Potato, turnip, golden beets. Not terrible, not memorable. It still didn't feel inspired. I went back to the tart, tried again, adding onions and chard, cheese and mustardingredients meant to enhance the peppery turnip. 

What I learned was that to cook with a turnip is to forge a path in the darkness, not unlike the turnip itself as it grows underground in the cold. In the spirit of fresh starts, realizations, and fighting for the underdog, I turn to this poem that was sent to me by a reader. You'll see, the poor turnip has stiff competition. 

turnip buckwheat tart08.jpg
turnip buckwheat tart07.jpg

turnip root

by Polly Hatfield

i lack the pr team of organic mesclun
the allure of blanched white asparagus

upstaged by the newfangled glitz of micro greens
the lunatic verve of doughnut peaches             

i am a white root vegetable    
with a pungent mustardy bite

i simply cannot compete 
with the hothouse fervor

of sun-ripened heirloom tomatoes
sweet, succulent, sexy orbs

i languish unharvested in the fields 
where forgotten i wither and turn punky with neglect  

 

Poem first appeared in Alltopia Antholozine, Summer 2010, Volume 2, Issue 3. Reprinted with permission from the author


In any other season I would agree with the turnip's lament. In August, it "cannot compete/ with the hothouse fervor/ of sun-ripened heirloom tomatoes." The tone is jovial, almost dramatic. But there is some truth here, because a turnip can easily be upstaged. It's such a sad scene, turnips languished "unharvested in the fields," likely to be tossed at the pigs for a meal. In this poem, the turnip knows its place, and how difficult it is to share the stage with other vegetables that are sexier and more popular.

In a way, the turnip makes his peace with neglect, but employs a passive aggressive strategy to plead with us, letting him prove that with a little attention, he can make something of himself in this world. Let's resolve not to neglect the turnip this year. You don't have to love it or praise it, or cook with it frequently, but give the turnip a chance, if only to reach out of your root vegetable comfort zone temporarily. Of all the months to embrace the turnip, January offers new beginnings for us all.

turnip buckwheat tart09.jpg

Turnip and Mustard Tart

To get ahead with dinner prep, make the crust in the morning (or better yet, the day before), so you’ll be ready to assemble. 

Extra-virgin olive oil
1 large turnip (about 1 pound), diced into 1/2-inch pieces
1 brown onion, diced
1 garlic clove, minced
1 bunch chard, stems removed and thinly sliced into ribbons
1 sprig thyme, leaves removed
1 buckwheat crust (via Sprouted Kitchen)
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard (I like a combination of whole grain and smooth)
Salt and pepper
4 sprigs thyme
1 cup grated gruyere
1 large egg, lightly beaten

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. 

Saute the turnips in 1 tablespoon of oil over medium low heat for 8-10 minutes, or until just beginning to turn golden. Season with a pinch each of salt and pepper. Add the turnips to a large bowl and heat another tablespoon of oil in the same pan. Add the onion and garlic; cook for 2 to 3 minutes, then add the chard, thyme, and season with a pinch each of salt and pepper. Cook for an additional 3 to 5 minutes, or until the chard is wilted. Scrape the vegetables into the bowl with the turnips.

Roll out the crust in an 11 to 13-inch circle and gently place into a tart pan. Lop off any overhang by running your rolling pin over the top. Add a piece of foil and a cup or so of beans or pie weights on top; bake for 15 minutes. 

Once the vegetables have cooled slightly, add the egg and half the gruyere; mix well to combine. Pour the filling into the crust and spread in an even layer. Top with the remaining gruyere. Bake for about 25 minutes, or until the tart is just set and the top is starting to brown.