Books like Stories from the Kitchen — picked by fans

This book is a beautiful tale that demonstrates the ugliness of first impressions when it comes to viewing others. When Vivienne is looked down upon by the local mayor for being a single mother and nomadic traveler, he is making assumptions based on his own narrow-minded authority. 

I love how, despite his attempts to harm her financially, she continues to show how being an individual who is true to oneself means more than trying to fit the mold of what someone else might think you should be. 

This book holds a cherished place in my heart as it delves into the intricate dynamics of mother-daughter relationships and the profound journey of self-discovery. Growing up, I often felt the weight of cultural expectations, and choosing a different path inevitably strained my familial bonds.

As I read, memories of my mother and sisters flooded back, reminding me of the unique connections we share. An artfully crafted story that made me question so much about myself and the way that culture has influenced me as a person. Tan’s lyrical prose eloquently voices the experiences of so many young girls who have long been silenced, making this, without a doubt, one of my most treasured reads.

It’s hard to match Nora Ephron’s wit and wisdom. In this novel, which mirrors events from the novelist and screenwriter’s real life, cookbook writer Rachel Samstat learns that her husband is cheating on her while she’s pregnant. Even as her life is falling apart, Rachel maintains her sense of humor while dropping the “everything is perfect” routine and speaking her mind.

In this tale of love and loss, Ephron serves up hilarious and heartbreaking moments in equal portions alongside mouthwatering recipes.

Have you ever read a book that makes your mouth and eyes water at the same time? That makes you laugh and takes your breath away and pisses you off and has you telling your partner every single detail of it, assuring they’ll never need to read it, but they want to anyhow? That’s Like Water for Chocolate.

The opening scene sets the whole tone of the book, and from then on, it sways between emotional heartbreaker, hilarious romp, devastating family drama, and magical realism that is so brilliant it feels real. What I’m saying is, it’s a delight.

Eating, one of my favorite daily rituals, is contiguous with my love of smelling and cooking. Most of what we consider to be the flavor of food arises from retronasal olfaction (the olfactory pathway from the back of the nose). And a great deal of our gustatory experiences are created from a confluence of multiple sensory channels within our headspace.

This piece of knowledge and many others are wonderfully covered in this book. Bringing to bear his cutting-edge research on mutli-modal perception, Spence provides what is to my mind the most enjoyable scientific introduction of gustatory perception and in particular an in depth explanation of why eating and drinking, when done well, are on of life’s greatest (multi-modal) pleasures.

I would be remiss if I didn't have a "food" book from my list. While I have read and liked many such books, Adler's is the top gem. 

As I read her book, I pictured us in my kitchen conversing about how we had modified a recipe to save time, money, or both. We compared notes on the lost art of thrift in the kitchen; how to turn bread heels, beans, and bones into tasty components of a meal. 

Adler shows us that we can be cooks on our terms, in our own kitchens, delightfully free of pretense and convention. May this book free your mind and inspire you to get creative in the kitchen to discover what's possible!

Better known by his pen-name Curnonsky, Maurice Edmond Sailland, was called the Prince of Gastronomy and was the most celebrated writer on gastronomy in France in the 20th century. Notice I say writer on gastronomy and not most famous chef or most famous cookbook author. What Curnonsky did was write about the whys and wherefores of the great provincial cuisines of France. If you think you know something about provincial French cuisine, Curnonsky will enlighten you with his explorations into the culture and geography of these various regions. The recipes in some cases will be unfamiliar and archaic, although no less delicious. The book is a gem.

If The Gastronomical Me was a kind of first course or appetizer into the world of food writing (and French cuisine in particular), this book is the elaborate, ornately baroque, show-stopping main.

Written by an 18th-century French judge and gourmand, the book is a fascinating compendium of meditations on a dizzying array of topics related to eating and drinking, or what Savarin calls “the pleasures of the table.”

Another reason that I love this book so much is that it’s translated by none other than M.F.K. Fisher, who provides “glosses” and witty commentaries on Savarin’s text. It’s like watching two of the most intelligent and literary gourmands to ever live have a dinner conversation hundreds of years apart. 

A Yorkshireman married to a Galega, John Barlow has a unique perspective on Galicia and Galician people. Add to that a wild idea to travel throughout Galicia over the course of a year trying to eat every part of a pig (except the squeal), and you have a book which beautifully evokes the people, the landscape, and especially the gastronomic fiestas of this area. Galicia has traditionally had a heavy reliance on the pig, often grown at home on scraps: Barlow writes with humour and a love of Galician food but he missed out the most famous of all the piggy fiestas… around our own town of Taboada anyway, A Festa do Caldo de ósos. Yum!

Whenever I feel a stab of nostalgia for my American childhood, I turn to M.F.K. Fisher, one of the most delightful food writers ever. The Art of Eating is a one-volume edition of six of her books, all written before I graduated from high school: it gives a funny and informative account of American (and other) eating habits before the great foodie revolution of the ‘80’s altered everything. It offers mostly food for the mind but the palate is also served by recipes I’d forgotten all about, often given both in their comfort food guise and in fancy dress.