A day off is often spent by rearranging furniture, scrubbing with murphy's oil soap (my friend went to the prom with the heir, i went to prom with an younger/older/fatter elvis, i was less than shook up), and reorganizing cookbooks...just me then?
Looking through all of my cookbooks, and reorganizing them, I got to thinking about my old obsession of constantly buying cookbooks.
At first I raided my mother's massive collection of Jaques Pepin, Julia Child, and Joyce Chen. It was followed by my grandmother giving me all of her french cookbooks from her days in the convent. I then became technical, "culinary artistry", "what to drink with what you eat", "what Einstein told his cook". This was followed by everything Bourdain and Kurlansky, quickly followed by everything Maine: "The secret life of lobsters", anything by Jasper White, and L.L. Bean (the man, not the store). I then collected the Culinaria series, the WHOLE Culinaria series.
I now collect, "French Feasts", "Pork and Sons" and "Au pied de cochon". That's right I've moved onto Food Porn, not the tall food, with pictures of smoke, and fumes, essences, the microscopic food, where you need a magnifying glass to see...I go for the River Cottage style, "here's the pig in the field" to "here's the pig in your stew"
Nothing fancy, everything good, delicious, sometimes toying with you, making you curse that you can't comfortably eat pictures.
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