Jan 8, 2020 4 min read

I have a confession.

I’m a cookbook hoarder.

I came to this inevitable conclusion a few weeks back while rearranging furniture to take advantage of our new empty nest.

“Wow, you have a lot of cookbooks,” my husband mused as we finagled one of the heavy bookcases into the bedroom vacated a year ago by my oldest daughter.

“Do you even read these things?” he asked, struggling to steer it into its new location. “Maybe you should thin the herd.”

“Of course, I do, and no way,” I said, quickly diverting his attention to a stain on the carpet that needed immediate attention and hoping he wouldn’t bring up the fact that there were two more bookcases brimming with cookbooks down the hall and in the game room.

But deep down I knew that I’d lapsed into sameness with a weekly meal routine consisting of baked chicken, pasta and turkey burgers, with an occasional brinner thrown in for good measure. I started to wonder. When was the last time I’d tried a new dish?

Later on, I decided to take inventory and count my cookbooks. Each numbered tap of a book spine conjured a memory, prompting me to pull it from the shelf, leaf through, and recall the how and why I’d acquired it. Among a few of my favorites:

n “Recipes from America’s Main Street, compiled by the Seligman (Ariz.) Historical Society.” A recipe for Navajo fry bread prompted me to shell out $13.99 for this ring-bound treasure filled with recipes contributed by Seligman’s locals and sold at Angel and Vilma’s Original Route 66 Gift Shop in – you guessed it – Seligman. We were on a cross-country jaunt and enjoyed fry bread – a traditional southwestern dish – in Flagstaff the day before we rolled into Seligman. Full disclosure: I’ve not made the fry bread yet.

n “The Good Housekeeping Book of Menus, Recipes and Household Discoveries.” I can’t recall how I came to be in possession of this little gem from 1922 that, as noted in the introduction, “is offered to housewives with the hope that it will suggest new dishes by which the daily menu may be varied.” The “discoveries,” or household tips, at the end of the book are probably the best part of the book, and offer new appreciation of modern conveniences, like clothes dryers. Consider this tip to “saving strength on wash day”: “When wash day comes around, I use the children’s wagon to haul the wash basket of wet clothes from the back door or laundry to the clothes-line … when there is snow, the children’s sled answers equally as well.” Good to know.

n “The Biscoff Cookie & Spread Cookbook.” Now, here is one I’ve tapped time and again since buying it a while back in San Francisco. A fan of cookie butter, which is made from Speculoos cookies – crunchy shortbread spice biscuits from the Netherlands and Belgium – I’ve baked Biscoff Blossoms (made with Biscoff Spread instead of peanut butter), Biscoff Chocolate Chip Cookies, Biscoff Cut-Out Cookies, Biscoff Cheesecake … you get the picture.

n “Fortnum & Mason: The Cookbook.” A gift from my daughter, this cookbook from the iconic department store of the same name in London is just an all-around pretty tome – almost too pretty to use, though the author says in the introduction that “this is a book that should become splattered and worn with constant use, to be bent, bruised and loved.” I’m not sure that I’ll be adding Caviar Boiled Eggs or Deep-fried Courgette Flowers with Graceburn Cheese and Honey to my regular repertoire, but there is a Raspberry Trifle recipe – featuring ladyfinger biscuits soaked in raspberry liqueur – that is calling my name.

There are so many more wonderful books in my collection. I could go on, but I stopped counting at 200 …

I don’t normally make New Year’s resolutions, but I’m giving this one a go in 2020: I resolve to make a new recipe from a different cookbook each week.

I think I’ll start with the Navajo fry bread.

Happy New Year!