I am slightly behind on a few reviews, primarily because I was packing up our lives and planning the adventure of a lifetime! As you now know, we left Seattle in the latter part of May, and are cycling across Holland and parts of Belgium and France. By we, I mean our family of four: husband James and sons Anthony and Caleb. For excerpts on our adventure visit www.familyfrolics.com.

I had a few lovely cookbooks that I kept stacked on my kitchen counter, with great intention to inhale and absorb them from cover to cover. But in the end—the day before the movers came—they went into a box marked ‘cookbooks.’ I am still sad that there are beautiful photos and fantastic recipes tucked away in library fashion, beyond my half-a-globe-away reach.

I did manage to sneak a hearty peek at the book on knives. I had seen it on store shelves, but put it out of my mind, figuring I didn’t want to read about the history of knives. But was so glad when the offer came to me to review it, because it forced me to take a closer look. It is so much more than a historical account of the evolution and use of knives. (Which, by the way, really is fascinating).

The book informs the reader re: knife care, proper sharpening and honing, various ways to hold knives and clean them, and progresses through all sorts of knife cuts. It shows pictures of cutting vegetables like carrots and onions, sifts through the quagmire of how-to slice mangoes and avocados, and shows you step by step how to butterfly a chicken.

I love this because one of the reasons I went to culinary school was to learn about cuts. I learned how to fabricate a chicken, julienne vegetables, flute mushrooms, and how to finely dice an onion without sacrificing my fingers. It offers a play by play that I spent big bucks on; but you can take the lessons from this book and learn just as easily. My chef at school used to say: practice. Know the proper cuts, go buy a bag of onions or a bag of potatoes and practice.

And the book convincingly emphasizes that knives are a tool we use so frequently, why wouldn’t we want to know how to hold it, use it, wield it and come to love it?

So yes, I do recommend this book. It may appear to be a book of the coffee table genre, but in fact you can use it as a resource and tool that will offer much more than a historical account of the culinarian’s most common tool. You will learn a thing or two, and upping your knife skills, in my opinion, ups your good sense and good feeling in the kitchen. And I am all for that!

If I go: I buy cookbooks. If I go, my wallet will be a smidgen lighter. We have a great Half Price Bookstore near us; it is heavily visited, so the turnover of books is impressive. If I were to say… go there every other week, I would find boxes of ‘just-in’ cookbooks. Imagine the temptation.

So I usually resist. But not always. And now that I have attended culinary school, a new variety of cookbooks appeal to me. Chef names are more familiar, certain restaurants stand taller in my mind, and I am hungry to read methodologies—like reading a recipe, then reading between the lines. The temptation is palpable.

Oh yes that author—a must have. Cool… they cook in the French style… no brainer. Must buy. MFK Fischer? Don’t leave the store without it. Classic must-read. A four star chef? Hey, I know how to make that!!?!

And so it goes. And today I came home with four new books. But instead of shuffling away shame-faced, I feel my arm ache from patting myself on the back: it could have been 8 books instead of 4. I actually [ehem] saved money. And to think if they were full price! I made choices, forced myself to put books back on the shelf, squatted while I read snippets and recipes and debated whether to add or subtract that book from my already-too-high pile.

My new reads:

James Beard’s Theory and Practice of Good Cooking (took off the paper cover, and the book underneath has vintage sketches of pots and pans—looks awesome). It cost me $9 and folks, it has no pictures. Yep, I have turned a new culinary leaf. One of my chefs recommended James Beard’s SAUCES book…. ehem, but I already have that one.

My French Kitchen and The French Market by Joanne Harris & Fran Warde. I confess, these two books were shelved together and I tried to buy just one. Then went back the next day… to buy the other. Each $10 the pictures are glorious, wall-worthy shots of French bakery signs and cobblestone streets, baguettes popping out of bags, purses, bikes, boxes… you get the idea. But I was taken with these books in large part because the approach is in the vein of French classic cuisine, which I just finished studying for a year. I don’ t know how to explain it to you, but reading these recipes made me feel like I was talking to a friend I just met… but felt I already knew and adored. Oh, and it doesn’t hurt that one of the authors, Joanne Harris, is also the author of the book-gone-movie, Chocolat—do see it, if you haven’t already.

And then, this book snuck up on me: Rover’s. I am embarrassed to say I knew so little about this restaurant, from my own city. Seattle’s restaurant scene is riveting, to say the least. And this particular restaurant is one of many I have yet to grace. But it struck a chord, because many of my peers from culinary school intern at this very restaurant. So when I cracked this cookbook (just in, one of a kind, great price), I felt like I walked into the back door of the restaurant. And opened up the fridge… to see what I want to eat. What I love about this book is that it is bursting with Pacific Northwest Cuisine… which I will go into more detail later.

Because right now, I am going to go read my new books.

It must be a sin. It felt like one: there I was, perched gingerly on the store floor, scanning the shelves and boxes of just-arrived cook-loving books at the half price book store (Half price? My husband teases me: you are spending money to save money?). I am Dutch after all: I am a SUCKER for good deals. No doubt when the deal is good, my left hand hardly knows what my right is doing. Doesn’t that ring of wrongdoing?

It really, really was a good deal, after all. And now that I am in culinary school, all my efforts to resist buying food-related, cooking inspired, chef advised, food-glorious books has gone… to hell in a hand basket (couldn’t resist).

That really is a funny phrase, mind you, as I find hand baskets to be not only convenient but environmentally friendly. In fact, a hand basket would’ve been perfect to carry home my new, such-a-steal, chef recommended books.

… My sin? Phenomenal, highly regarded cookbooks from well-renowned sources—at bargain basement prices. I should feel guilty paying only $14 for The French Laundry cookbook, one that I have ogled at in fine, boutique bookstores for many, many years. At $50, it didn’t even fit in the luxury budget… today I saved $34 when I bought it.

The French Laundry is a famous, famous, famous, famous restaurant in Napa valley. Thomas Keller is the chef/proprietor; he boasts a second restaurant, Bouchon (also with its own cookbook). I have not been to French Laundry, but I have been to Bouchon… twice. Just lovely: truffle fries, halibut cheeks, foie gras and forest mushrooms…

Oh, and that is not all.

I also bought: SAUCES by James Peterson (normally $50, I paid $9), Essentials of Cooking—also by Peterson, and The [New] Making of a Cook by Madeleine Kamman. This beast of a book has been recommended multiple times inside the few short weeks I have been at culinary school. I will let you know if I find it useful.

What is your current foodie read/book/weakness?

When artists took apprenticeships in years past, they were required to copy, copy, copy the paintings, sculptures, techniques and styles of the great artists that preceded them. It was all about practice, about familiarizing your brain, your hand and your approach with proven gems—artwork from famed, revered artists.

Sometimes this would take years of painful step-by-step learning. Copying this artist and the next, studying brush strokes and mediums, learning about genres, cultures, influences and historical context. And until the upcoming artist truly had mastered and finally appreciated the presence and depth and sheer genius of what went before, they were rarely, if ever, encouraged to create their own art.

I did not go to culinary school, but I have been studying great ‘chef’ artists through the years by engaging cookbook after cookbook. My apprenticeship, so to speak, was to copy recipe after recipe of one cook and then another, and then another, until I began to have a sense of technique, science and art in the kitchen. I cooked my way through different traditions and styles, philosophies and fortes.

There are so many talented chefs out there, some recognized and some not. Though I have learned a lot, I have much more to learn. Even now, I rely heavily on cookbooks, on chefs that are close to my heart both with their kitchen philosophy and their culinary talent. I choose culinary greats to be a part of my kitchen, chefs that I can trust to be benchmarks, wizards and gurus that regularly prove their talent and maintain a welcome in my kitchen.

But not just any chef will do. Just as it is important for you to pick a doctor, therapist, friend and/or teacher that are well-suited to you, so it goes with picking chefs that most reflect your kitchen style, presence and preferences. Because I am not a professional chef, you may wonder how I go about selecting my ‘chef’ teachers.

It is quite simple: I peruse their cookbook, pick 10 recipes that sound good to me and I make them, one by one. I follow their lead, learning about their methodology, kitchen philosophy and favorite foods to engage in the kitchen. Truth be told, after about 10 recipes I have a pretty good sense of a chef via their cookbook. Would I make the recipes again? Did my family like the recipes? Were the recipes exotic or simple? What are their ideas around entertaining?

And then I use my own kitchen philosophy as a filter: Is it practical? Is it a good use of simple ingredients? Is it overly complicated or just about right for the end result? Can I count on this chef to deliver great recipes every time or is it more hit and miss? Are the recipes a good springboard for creating my own?

I welcome my chefs as trusted friends, teachers who gave me my start and still give me ongoing inspiration in my kitchen. Their techniques are now mine, my own recipes have traces of theirs, our kitchen philosophies are permanently commingled.

What cookbooks do you love? Ask yourself why you like each book; you will begin to unpack your own kitchen philosophy, and form your filter for future chef approvals. I may like a cookbook that you don’t prefer, or pass along a cookbook that the next person finds endearing. I may be looking to learn about specific methods (tangine?) or traditions (Indian, Spanish?); my bent toward learning new things propels me to keep reaching for new cookbooks, new chefs. But there are times in my life that I go back to the basics, stick to practical or don’t feel a creative urge. There are chefs to befriend you and I in all the varying chapters of our lives. The important thing is to find chefs that you can trust, bookie foodie friends that will lie atop counters and enjoy regular spatters from the nearby saucepan.