I think, perhaps, that the nice people at Gill & MacMillan must have known that my (blog) birthday – which came and went on Friday – was approaching. In the past month, they have sent me not one – and, no, not two – but three newly published cookbooks. Honestly, if they keep this up, they’ll need to send new bookshelves along the next time, and maybe a bigger kitchen too (I am nothing if not an optimist in that regard).
The truth, of course, is that the enjoyment of a new cookbook doesn’t warrant an upgrade to kitchen accommodations as much as it does the availability of a good armchair from which to peruse and plan, followed by a willingness to try something even just a little bit different from your usual fare.
My newly acquired books, written by three lovely Irish ladies, have provided plenty to browse through, and make me wish that I could spend more time cooking than has seemed to happen of late. And if the kindling of the desire to head kitchen-ward is the first, and most essential test of good cookbook, then – before an apron has been donned or an onion chopped – these books have passed with flying colours.
I open Eat Like an Italian at a random page. I find a recipe for broad bean and Pecorino salad on one side and sorrel flan on the other. That’s it, I’m sold. No two ways about it.