5 second rule

A tasty trove of food books, for gifting.

{Enormous thanks to those of you who weighed in with such thoughtful counsel on my last post. I do plan to return to the Israel series. But first, a brief detour.}

The world, I'm convinced, is divided into recipe lovers and cookbook lovers. The recipe lovers -- practical souls focused squarely on producing food -- have a straightforward mission: get in, cook, get out. Many of us are recipe lovers during the week. We're all about the quick web search and download, the faster the better. We seek a speedy hit -- not context, nor lyricism, nor leisure.

The cookbook lovers -- weekend explorers, many of us -- live for the context, the lyricism, the leisure. We read books in bed, invest heavily in post-its and adhesive flags, and see recipes as part of a greater, more sumptuous whole. To us, cookbooks represent beautiful possibility, and we're hooked on their weight in our hands.

Above and below are some suggestions for cookbook lovers. These are books that have crossed my threshold this calendar year, and while most were published in 2012, a few are a bit older. 

This is not a Best Of list. These are not, some of them, obvious choices. My goal here is simply to expose you to some worthy titles with which you may be unfamiliar. Only you can decide if they're right for you or your giftees.

Finally -- as always -- if you purchase any items from Amazon via these links, I will receive a few pennies on the dollar in referral fees. I thank you sincerely for supporting my work in this small but meaningful way. Should you go the independent bookstore route, that's obviously wonderful in so many ways, too.

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Food In Jars by Marisa McClellan and Pure Beef by Lynne Curry 

Marisa McClellan, a phenomenal teacher with a warm manner and quick smile, taught a canning class in my home this past summer in support of her new book. If you've always wanted to master the fundamentals of canning, pickling, and preserving, but have felt intimidated (like I did), this book will ease your way with clear information, accessible techniques, and appealing recipes. (More about Food in Jars)

Lynne Curry and I met in late summer in Portland and shared several lovely meals together. A former vegetarian, she discovered a passion for beef, so long as it was raised ethically and sustainably. Her book is quietly beautiful, classy, and rich with recipes for various cuts of grass-fed beef. (I have her pot roast in my oven right now. True story.) Beef lovers, or those who need some inspiration when it comes to meat cookery, will really appreciate this well-written guide. (More about Pure Beef)

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Keys to the Kitchen by Aida Mollenkamp 

Aida's energy spins off the page in this fresh, catchall cookbook. This book's organization is a bit unwieldy, but I appreciate the breadth of her recipes, and the back section on quick, stress-free appetizers is worth the cost of the volume. This book would make a great gift for anyone who doesn't own the Joy of Cooking (or wouldn't appreciate an older book) and wants to learn a wide-range of fundamental techniques and recipes. Plus, it's much more modern. (More about Keys to the Kitchen)

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Pike Place Market Recipes by Jess Thomson and Suffering Succotash by Stephanie Lucianovic

I adore these two ladies, both friends and fellow alumnae of the culinary school I attended back in 2002.

Jess is a top-flight writer and recipe developer, and in PPMR, she celebrates the bounty of Seattle's most famous marketplace. I've cooked dozens of Jess's recipes over the years, and I can vouch for her skills; she's a true pro who knows how to devise flavorful dishes that satisfy every time. Jess also wrote Top Pot Hand-Forged Donuts and Dishing Up Washington. (More about Pike Place Market Recipes)

Stephanie is a humorist and former picky-eater. For this book (a narrative, not a cookbook), she honed her investigative skills to discover why some people hate the foods they hate. In her inimitable fashion, she delves into the science of taste, all the while keeping her tone light and accessible. If you know a child, or adult, with strong food aversions, this eye-opening paperback will make you more empathetic to their plight. It will also make you giggle. (More about Suffering Succotash)

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The Sprouted Kitchen by Sara Forte 

Here's a very pretty cookbook with a design and aesthetic reminiscent of Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Every Day. With simple, beautiful photos by the author's husband Hugh Forte, TSK presents the natural foods lover with numerous options for healthful meals. I'd put this book squarely in the "for cooks who like pretty books" category. (More about The Sprouted Kitchen)

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Jerusalem: A Cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi & Sami Tamimi and The Book of New Israeli Food by Janna Gur

Jerusalem: A Cookbook is getting a lot of well-deserved love and attention, and with good reason. Released in October, this colorful celebration of a complicated city's dynamic foodways was co-written by the same chef behind last year's glorious, vegetable-focused cookbook, Plenty. (If you don't own Plenty, you should.) Since Ottolenghi is Jewish and his business partner Tamimi is Palestinian, the two -- who run the London-based specialty food shop Ottolenghi and its outposts -- approached the food of their natal city from a dual perspective, and the results are balanced, inclusive, and fascinating. (More about Jerusalem)

Janna Gur's The Book of New Israeli Food also focuses on Israeli cuisine and, like the book above, is much more than a simple collection of recipes. If you have a budding interest in the food of this region like I do, I highly recommend you check out both of these books, and then choose your favorite to add to your collection. Even something as simple as learning to make hummus the proper way will be a major turn-on. Trust me. (More about The Book of New Israeli Food)

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Yes, Chef: A Memoir by Marcus Samuelsson 

In my efforts to broaden my horizons, I attempted to download my first audiobook from my local library. I failed miserably, but thanks to a tech-savvy friend (hi, Sheri!), I was finally able to get Samuelsson's book on my iPhone. What a pleasure it has been to listen to the Ethiopian-born, Swedish-raised, Harlem-based chef tell his unique story in his own voice. Though you could certainly buy the print version of this memoir, see if you can download the spoken version, especially if you have a long commute or upcoming plane ride where you can just listen, undisturbed. (More about Yes, Chef)

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I could go on forever. I would like to, actually. I'd like to wax poetic (again) about Alana Chernila's The Homemade Pantry, which I wrote about back in July, and tell you how much I adore Kim O'Donnel, whose second book (The Meat Lover's Meatless Celebrations) just hit shelves. I know my friend Robin Asbell just came out with a new vegan baking book (Sweet & Easy Vegan), and that Jeanne Sauvage just released Gluten-Free Baking for the Holidays. Japanese Farm Food, by Nancy Singleton Hachisu, has gotten incredible reviews, and I can't wait to give it the attention it deserves. And then there's Herbivoracious by Michael Natkin. Oh, and my newest treasure, The French Culinary Institute's The Fundamental Techniques of Classic Pastry Arts, a book that will keep me busy for months. But I'll stop.

Almost.

One more. I'd be an idiot if I didn't take this opportunity to remind you that Ripe would make a lovely gift. Paulette and I are so thrilled with how well our book has been received, and are grateful to Vegetarian Times magazine for naming it one of the Top 5 Cookbooks of 2012 in their December issue. If you do purchase the book for friends and family, please let me know either via email or in the comments section, and I'd be happy to mail you a personalized sticker (or several) inscribed to whomever you choose, while supplies last. Thanks again, now and always, for your support. (More about Ripe)

When food and fighting collide. (part 4-1/2)

I've drafted, erased, re-drafted, and re-erased words in this space a dozen times in the past three days. I've talked, to anyone who will listen, about whether it's appropriate, or in very poor taste, for me to continue this series during this time of extreme duress in the Middle East. 

Writing about it feels tone-deaf.

Not writing about it allows my prior posts to stand there, with no acknowledgment of how quickly things have changed.

Can I continue to share stories of Jews and Arabs in Israel? Can I show you pictures of labne, exotic fruits, and dough baked in a hallway oven? Can I tell you more? Show you more? Can I counterbalance the horrendous images of war with images of people breaking bread?

I may wait.

For now, there's only one thing I know for sure: food can bring people together, but it can't solve the world's problems.

I wish it could. 

Yours in peace and thanksgiving...

Nothing was falling apart. (part 4)

There comes a point in every trip where it all clicks, or it all falls apart.

Where what's in the soup matters less than who's around the table.

Where the flavor of the food takes second billing to the flavor of the room.

The Uri Buri Restaurant in Acre (or Akko, depending) is housed in a centuries-old Ottoman-era stone building. You could have served me dust bunnies in this room, and I would have been charmed. 

Fish and seafood are the name of the game at this spot in Israel's Western Galilee.

And the food was fine. It was. But if I'm being perfectly honest, I'll admit that the food didn't really matter, at least to me. I was too bowled over by where I was. 

I served myself some scallops, letting the excess sauce drain back into the serving bowl.

I'm not big into sauces.

And that's when Uri -- chef, proprietor, hotelier, and local personality -- leaned over to me, proclaiming:

"A scallop without sauce is like a kiss without a beard."

You can see why this was especially funny.

Meet Uri Jeremias.

Uri runs not only the Uri Buri Restaurant where we had lunch, but also the Efendi Hotel, a painstakingly restored property with stunning details and outstanding views of both the sea and the city. (I recognize that I'm gushing, but please know that we didn't stay there. We ogled, and then we left.)

Here's the rooftop bar.

And yet.

For all of the hotel's architectural, artistic, and luxurious splendor, I was more captivated by what I found when I walked outside, down on the street below.

The alleyways, for example, with signs of everyday chores and life:

and doorways that look like this:

So the cracks, the peeling, ancient walls, the rich history -- these are the reasons to come to Acre.

The food, the sea, the people, the charm -- these are just garnishes.

See, by then, for me, things had already clicked.

And despite appearances, nothing was falling apart at all.

Together, alone, at the ends of the earth. (part 3)

As you make your way from bustling Jerusalem to the Dead Sea, the landscape changes. Perhaps more quickly and starkly than I've ever experienced. Suddenly, the hills rise up in giant dunes of rock and sand.

The Dead Sea is a center of health and wellness in Israel, and the world. While its position on earth is so low, the mineral content of the salt and mud is extremely high. People come here from all over to float, to smear their skin with rich, smooth mud, and to heal whatever ails them. 

To float here, on the second day of the trip, was surreal for me, and quieting. I was surrounded by people -- pilgrims, in some respects, like me -- and yet, I haven't felt more alone in years. The experience is intense, and while it was joyous for those with their families, for me it was profoundly solemn. The striking beauty of the place, the peacefulness of the water, the rosy glow of Jordan in the distance, lit by the fading sun, nearly felled me.

And yet, that water -- so salty, so dense, so buoyant -- kept me up.

And up I stayed.

When I emerged, I took a deep breath, rinsed off, and continued on with my journey of discovery.

Uri and the amazing technicolor dreamplate. (part 2)

Say hello to Jerusalem-based Chef Uri Nevon, standing outside an open-air section of the Machane Yehuda Market he called the Iraqi quarter, where an older generation of men plays backgammon. "This is their gathering place," Uri says. "Unfortunately, the younger generation doesn't do this, so take a picture. You may not be able to capture this scene for much longer."

I did as Uri said. I took a picture.

I'll share a few more portraits from this spot at a later time.

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Stroll to Uri's restaurant, Machneyuda, named after the market of the same name, footsteps away. He buys his products there, so he and his partners honored the market by naming their restaurant after it.

We started off with flatbread pizzas.

 

The colors of the restaurant reflect the colors in the market. Bold spices, seeds, vegetables, fruits dominate the market stalls, and these same shades fill not only the two-story seating area, but the open kitchen as well.

Below is Israel's most famous and beloved dish, hummus, made more colorful with dollops of tapenade, tomato, and pesto.

We were served most dishes family-style, but this particular jar of warm, rich polenta with mushrooms and asparagus was more refined. I smiled when I realized that the trend of serving food in individual jars, so popular now in the United States (see this and this), is not simply a quirk of our culture.

The crispy fish with tahini sauce, green beans, onions, ground olives, and confit garlic, pictured below, was a typical, large-platter dish. Bold and messy, the food captured Uri's big personality and outsize spirit.

There was definitely something Jackson Pollacky going on. I loved the feel of eating this way -- the community and warmth it engenders around the table -- but when you've got a platter this large it's difficult to be restrained. This was the Joseph and his amazing technicolor dreamcoat dish of the evening -- a riotous, multihued display served with confidence and humor.

Above is a view of the restaurant, looking down from the second floor. See all that color? At regular intervals, while the music blares, the chefs begin singing and dancing, and diners who know the words clap and join in. The interludes keep the mood high. 

It's impossible not to be happy in this place. Maybe the flavors are sometimes offbeat, but in Israel, people dream, and they dream big.

Above, you see my traveling cohorts, accomplished and visible American chefs. Hugh Acheson and Viet Pham flank Uri to the left, and Maury Rubin and Ben Ford to the right. I'll be writing plenty more about these guys soon. Trust me.

And warm congratulations to those of you who've had your electricity restored. As they say in these parts, mazel tov.