21 May 08 re: reshelving cookbooks

m-c:

Other people, I've come to realize, redecorate. I, on the other hand, reorganize.

mb:

I know exactly what you mean.

m-c:

So, as I'm sure you're tired of hearing, I'm reshelving every book in the house. The cookbook library is second to the last, so I'm feeling pretty excited.

mb:

You've started calling it the cookbook library?

m-c:

Too pretentious? Well, you know, the cookbooks. The bunches and piles and heaps and bushels and cascades of cookbooks.

mb:

Dare I ask how you are reorganizing them?

m-c:

The old organization went like this: regions, ingredients, and other, where "other" was stuff like dishes (casseroles, soups), equipment (microwave, bread machine), beliefs (vegan, kosher), or convenience (fast, easy). Everything alpha by author within each category.

mb:

That sounds pretty darn comprehensive. And the new organization?

m-c:

It adds the dimension of time. Now all the books in the previous categories have to be new, or fairly new. All books published before 2000 get shelved alpha by author.

This new organization is supposed to help me get out of my cookbook ruts.

Suppose I feel like making something Eastern European, some nice thick stewish thing with goodies in it. My first impulse is to go directly to George Lang's The Cuisine of Hungary, which is a terrific book but I have been cooking from it since it was published by Bonanza Books in 1971.

Now if I go look at Eastern Europe, George isn't there. Instead I see Silvena Rowe's The Eastern & Central European Kitchen, published by Interlink in 2007, with tempting photographs by Jonathan Lovekin. And then I also see David Bouley's East of Paris, published by Ecco in 2003, with even more tempting photographs by Thomas Schauer. George is still there if I need him, but I'm reminded that there are many more recent books that I should be investigating.

Oh wow, Bouley has a recipe for mushroom goulash with chive dumplings (pp. 200-203) that certainly merits further investigation. And Rowe has a whole chapter on dumplings, 22 pages long.

And then there's Christiane Herzog's Invitation To Dine (Doubleday, 2000, photographs by Christian von Alvensleben), where I can learn about pepper soup with choux pastry dumplings -- Brandteigknoedelchen. I'd love a big bowl of pepper soup and Brandteigknoedelchen, wouldn't anybody?

mb:

Amen to that.

m-c:

The only hard thing is that I do have to get rid of some books.

Sad, but I'll sell them at Powell's, so I can feel confident that they'll end up in good homes.

It's hard for me to get started getting rid of books, but then I really get into it. "Oh, I bet I know somebody who needs this more than I do." I'm giving three Elizabeth Andoh books to a friend who has actually lived in Japan, so can make better use than I can of the dean of writing in English on Japanese food.

mb:

Fun!

Are there books that you're actually happy to see the end of?

m-c:

You know, there are. Sometimes I look at a book and wonder why in the world I've let it take up space on my shelves for so long.

Microwave Vegetarian Cooking for One or Two? Craig Claiborne's autobiography? Gatherings: A Collection of Highly Entertaining Menus by the Junior League of Milwaukee? Cooking with Kids for Dummies? An annotated translation of Le Grand Livre de la Cuisine à la Vapeur (= French Steam Cooking)? What kind of person buys books like these?

Then there are the books I feel I should like but for some reason do not. The Williams-Sonoma books, for instance. They're of astonishingly high quality for something priced to sell in supermarkets, but I've just never warmed up to them. Even the ones written by authors whose other work I like seem impersonal, cookie-cut.

There are some understandable disappointments, of course. I just recently bought Lori Longbotham and Marie Simmons's Better by Microwave: Over 250 Recipes for the Foods Microwave Does Best. I've liked many other books by both those authors, and using a microwave skillfully is one of my current topics. Alas, Better by Microwave turns out to believe in microwave "browning trays," which are a snare and a delusion. But I don't feel like a total fool for hoping otherwise.

Then there are the books that teeter on the edge of acceptability. If only I had more space, I would keep them, but ...

For instance, there's Michael and Frances Field's A Quintet of Cuisines, part of the Time-Life Foods of the World series, which covers Switzerland; the Low Countries (Belgium, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands); Poland; Bulgaria and Romania -- OK, up to now we could have been doing Minor Foods of Europe, except that neither Belgian nor Polish food is exactly minor. But the fifth cuisine is ... North African?

That one has been in and out of the Powell's box about forty times. At this particular moment it's going down to the basement to join other cookbooks that I'm keeping because someday I want to make collages with their funky pictures. I know, I know, that's a poor excuse.

Then there are the gifts from friends with even less common sense about cookbooks than I have. Zella Boutell's The Home Freezer Book for Better Living (Viking, 1952)? "Aspics and other gelatin combinations -- particularly those to which cottage cheese, cream cheese, whipped cream, sour cream, or mayonnaise have been added -- are the most satisfactory salads to freeze." Gak!

I had a terrible setback last week when the New York Times ran a piece by the bibliophile Alberto Manguel, who said, "I have dozens of very bad books that I don't throw away in case I ever need an example of a book I think is bad." I flew instantly to my Powell's boxes and began unloading them precipitously, but later gained control of myself again.

mb:

I know this is hard for you, Mom. Be brave -- you can do it!

Questions? Comments? Corrections?
Suggestions? Contributions?
Please let us know!