My good friend Monica Bhide put up a feature about CookShelf this morning which reminded me of how CookShelf got started, and so I wrote a little story about it for her site – you can read it there, following her post (and enter for a CookShelf giveaway!).

The short version is that it all began at the Roger Smith Cookbook Conference in the middle of February, when a snowstorm almost brought the city to a halt and we all were scrambling  around in the slush and kind of wishing we were on a beach somewhere.  I had gone with no particular plan other than to see friends, speak on a panel, meet a few new faces.  But talking with those friends forced an idea to take form, and before long I was forming what-ifs in my mind…as in what if I developed a cookbook-rating system?  What if I wrote an app? What if I worked really really hard and got it out by Mother’s Day?

I’ve learned that those what-ifs tend to lead to unforeseen consequences.  Previous what-ifs have included: What if I agreed to run down Central Park South in an evening gown and heels after a horse-drawn carriage while playing a saxophone?  What if I tried to make the apple cake my mom made when I was little?  What if I tried to write my own personal ad just for fun?  The first got me $100 and a really amazing pastrami sandwich.  The second led eventually, with many twists and turns, to A Spoonful of Promises.  The third led to my husband, two kids, and this whole crazy make-it-up-as-you-go life in New England.

Not all my what-ifs have turned out so great.  What if I do a backflip off of the edge of this swimming pool?  What if we tried to make our own funnel cake (this at age 6, with my sister)?  What if I take this scenic detour to Vermont, the one with all the “Moose Crossing”  signs?  What if I balance this 4-pound strawberry-rhubarb pie on a spatula while transferring it to the cooling rack?

So far, what have the what-if’s I asked 12 weeks ago in a midtown hotel while the snow fell all around us led to?  Well, firstly, 12 weeks of the hardest work I’ve done in my life – early mornings and late nights, with much leaning on the husband that other what-if brought me 15 years ago.  Secondly, much greater mental clarity in the evaluation of cookbooks.  Thirdly, increased speed and fluency in writing (what happens when you make yourself produce 200 words at a time in 10-minute intervals).  And lastly, the CookShelf app itself – this curious, shiny hybrid of authorship and convenience, produced by a person who 12 weeks ago barely knew what an app was  - and still doesn’t have a smartphone.

I never really can say, even afterward, whether any particular what-if was a game changer or a goose chase.  And there are probably better ways to live your life than chasing down one thing you don’t know after another.  There are probably lots of people – and maybe they’re right – who believe Why bother! is a much more sensible reply to life’s conundrums than What if?

But I’m still going to keep asking.

It’s 11 days till Mother’s Day, which means you still have time to order and ship a cookbook to give someone special.  Need some recommendations?  Sure you do!  You’ll find them on CookShelf, my new cookbook-rating app.   Download it here!

When you’ve got it, click on the upper left corner menu and scroll down to “Mother’s Day gifts!”  Voilà! a whole list of charming, whimsical, great-value books that will endear you even more to the person who already loves you best.  (for more about Mother’s Day, check out my post on Eat Your Books.)

splash screen demo for press release

Somehow, in all the excitement of the “Surprise! Apple’s approved your app!” launch of CookShelf last Friday,  I never quite round to doing a formal announcement here on the website.

So… CookShelf, my cookbook-rating app (and the project which took over my life for the last 2.5 months), is now available for iPhone and iPad for a mere piffling $2.99.  And Android users?  Never fear!  CookShelf will be coming to you next week.

The authors of Kitchen & Co. are British bloggers billing themselves as “French & Grace” (that’s Rosie French and Ellie Grace).  They’ve got a beautiful vision of the good life that’s reminiscent of Canal House Cooking on our side of the pond.

The recipes are freewheeling, colorful, and full of global borrowings.  Headnotes are whimsical and evocative: A dessert for a rosy-shadowed evening, A garden lunch for two, Teatime and the leaves are falling. Execution-wise? They’re sometimes uneven.  But it does make a charming gift.

Click here to read today’s review of Kitchen & Co.in the Boston Globe.  (Hit the paywall?  Use this PDF link.)

Loyal readers may have noticed that there’s been some radio silence here at the site for the last couple of weeks.  What’s up?! you may wonder.  We haven’t stopped cooking. And we definitely haven’t stopped eating.  Cookbooks are still being reviewed, recipes are still being tested, greens are being planted and chickens, scolded (they learned to cross the road to the library last week! and it wasn’t because they wanted to borrow the latest cozy mystery.  The next day, they got an electronet fence.)

app tease

sneak peek!

No, the reason for the blog pause has been a flurry of frantic, behind-the-scenes activity on my Big New Project.   It’s a cookbook-rating app! to be called CookShelf and published by Sutro Media.  In fact, it is the first ever cookbook-rating app on the market.

With an initial database of over 200 titles, CookShelf will offer rankings and ratings on  different criteria, like Skill Level and Giftworthiness. It’ll have mini-reviews, links to recipe-tested full reviews where available, peeks inside the books, filters for sorting out cookbook types, usability data (like page layout and recipe speed), buy links, and more.

In short, CookShelf will provide the expert recommendation you need to buy a cookbook you’ve never seen before with confidence – whether it’s for yourself or somebody you love.  (Hello, Mother’s Day!)

So, for the last several weeks I’ve been furiously developing a rating system, analyzing books, writing capsule reviews, entering and hyperlinking data, and sometime in the next couple of weeks –  when we’ve made it through Apple’s queue – the app will launch.

Stay tuned!  Cookbook expertise at your fingertips is on the way!

moroccan cooking, middle eastern cooking, using preserved lemons

“I trace my finger down the ingredients list. Shallots, check. Tomatoes, check. Cinnamon stick, check. And then there it is:  Preserved lemon. “Drat!” I think. “Foiled again!” 

That’s how this story started – I finally made up my mind to get a clue about preserved lemons, and never again find myself caught without a stash on hand. If you’ve already got preserved lemons on hand, congratulations! Let’s get cooking.  And if you haven’t?  Well, there couldn’t be a better time to start.

Read Preserved Lemons: Older, Wiser, and Full of Flavor at NPR’s Kitchen Window here.

Can Fuchsia Dunlop do it again?

Land of Plenty and Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook got us used to a certain level of well-glossed, well-described, more-authentic-than-average style of regional Chinese cookbook.

Every Grain of Rice isn’t a regional cookbook.  It’s an 200+-recipe overview of everyday Chinese cooking, bidding for a place on the weeknight rotation.  Does it succeed?

Click here to read today’s review of Every Grain of Rice  in the Boston Globe.  (Hit the paywall?  Use this PDF link.)

Your first glance at the cover of this book is likely to give you one of two mistaken impressions:  1) it is a beginner cookbook for the starting-from-zero kitchen initiate, or 2) it’s everything you’ll ever need to know about egg cookery.

Neither is true.  It’s a very stylish, freewheeling, erratic book from a British bakery in Paris (the bakery book is its own whole genre these days), and it will fit neither your preconceptions about British food nor your preconceptions about Parisian food.

Click here to read today’s review of How to Boil an Egg  in the Boston Globe.  (Hit the paywall?  Use this PDF link.)

Maybe every year or so, a book that’s genuinely good for beginners pops up.  I’m always on the lookout for them, remembering my own inglorious initiation as a cook with my roommate’s copy of 365 Ways to Cook Pasta.  (Things got better once I discovered The Silver Palate Cookbook.)

Anyways, the best I could come up with last year, if memory serves, was a really good baking book, The Fearless Baker (here’s the review).

But along comes Keys to the Kitchen, and it’s really quite good.  I’m not really sure that people will sit and read through the equipment section to make sure they have the right combination of pots and pans, although I certainly would have.  But the recipes are flavorful, well-constructed, reliable, and make none of the compromises many “easy” recipes make in the interests of a shorter ingredient list or not scaring people.  Don’t be nervous if the recipe looks a little long, folks! It’s just good explanation, and you’ll be glad it was there when you sit down to your perfectly executed dinner.

Click here to read today’s review of Keys to the Kitchen  in the Boston Globe.  (Hit the paywall?  Use this PDF link.)

Actually, I completely forgot about it, which is my usual Pi Day tradition.  I didn’t even have any frozen pie dough left over from previous forays into pie.

Sooo, instead, here is a nice picture of the best rhubarb lattice pie I ever made or ate.

rhubarb lattice pie

It was my consolation pie, after that time I dropped the incredibly complicated rhubarb-strawberry pie I was recipe-testing on the floor.  And God, it was good!  It made me almost glad I dropped that other horrid thing, so I could treat myself to one so much better.

Although pixels last forever, there is sadly no way, even virtually, to eat again a pie you have once eaten.  I guess I’ll just have to wait till May, when the rhubarb will be here again – tart, memorable, and full of solace.

Every time a Nigella book comes out,  women food writers have to do a self-inspection for jealousy and Schadenfreude. Nigella’s success comes from a number of sources – a privileged background, a robust work ethic, a wealthy husband, the willingness to put on what she calls her “circus act” of buxom domesticity, an aptitude for luscious prose stylings that go with the circus act, and yes, genuinely good taste in food.

Who are we to say that success is not deserved?  But when a book like Nigellissima comes out, it’s hard not to carp.  Sure, the food is quick, basically tasty, and capably serves 2.   But with a little care, it could be so much better – and the rest of us would have no cause to nitpick.

Click here to read  today’s review of Nigellissima  in the Boston Globe.  (Hit the paywall?  Use this PDF link.)

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