100 Books Like Taste

I just love how this book looks, first of all. It has an elegant, art deco, classy vibe that really sets the mood, and your mood is an important part of enjoying a good cocktail, or any drink for that matter.

There are some cocktails in here I know I'll never make, I'm not going to mix up my own bone tincture, but that doesn't matter. This isn't so much a recipe book for the home mixologist as it is a coffee-table collection of inspiring drinks.

When I leaf through the pages and look at all the gorgeous photographs, it sets me dreaming of which bars I want to visit next. That being said, it still features plenty of cocktails I'll want to whip up the next time I have guests over.

I write about beer, cider, spirits, and cocktails. In fact, I'll write about almost anything that will get you drunk, plus a few liquids that won't, but I don't write about wine. That's my off-duty drink, the one side of booze I don't need to know about beyond asking myself whether I want more of the wine in my glass.

So you could say that for me all wine is from another galaxy. It can seem too big, the world of wine. Too deep. Too stuffy. This book makes it fun again, makes it fresh and exciting. I almost want to learn about the stuff, despite my best efforts not to!

After reading this, I feel I'd happily follow Dan Keeling and Mark Andrew into any cellar to swill and swig the hours away.

We're back to drinks proper with another feast for the eyes. This book has a deep appeal to me because I've always been a francophile. France has pulled at me from the earliest family holidays through to the years I lived in Paris.

Now, back in London, there's a bittersweet nostalgia in the mix. This book captures a lot of what I miss from those years because it's not just about the drinks but also the culture that surrounds them.

It reminds me that a drink is always an occasion. It doesn't have to be a fancy one either. There's the domestic and quotidian side, too, like preparing a café au lait the French way in one of those ridiculous footed bowls; they're totally useless to drink from yet somehow all the more appealing for it.

Ok, you got me: this isn't a drinks book. But if you're interested in drinks, properly interested, I mean, above and beyond a fondness for getting drunk, then you're interested in flavour.

This book sets my mind racing about the combinations I could conjure up between drink, garnish, and snack. Just imagine, you open a page at random, and there's Segnit's pairing of caraway and poppy seed. Delicious! How much more so might it be next to a nice glass of Madeira, or perhaps something that's sat for a while in a sherry cask taking on all those flavours?

Another one: sesame and shiso. Ok. I know some gins flavoured with shiso. This could work. I flick through this book, and a million new paths open before me, leading me on to tasty treats.

Stories from the Kitchen is a celebration of food in fiction, an anthology of short stories combined with tidbits from novels. The authors are well known, ranging from Charles Dickens’ “Love and Oysters,” about oysters upending the life of a man and his dependable routines, to Isaak Dineson’s “Babette’s Feast,” in which a lavish dinner served by a French cook transforms the hearts and souls of the most austere members of an isolated Danish community. Another story of particular interest: M.F.K. Fisher’s heartbreaking “A Kitchen Allegory.” As in Fisher’s gastronomical non-fiction writing, in which food is her greatest metaphor, this slice of fiction uses food as a source of empathy for a woman who has to reckon with no longer being needed. Reading this entire collection underscores how my own book—though unprecedented in its number of recipes tucked within a novel— stands on a long tradition of food as… show more.

Some books are worth reading just because the writing is so wonderful. But combine that with the subject matter - dining out in Paris - and you are in for a treat. Liebling, a longtime staff writer for the New Yorker, shares with us the sublime art of enjoying a good meal. He also wrote some of the best reporting on the Second World War, landing with the Allies in Morocco and accompanying the troops on the front line through Europe (available as WW2 Writings, Library of America).

This book is a valuable resource for chefs and beginner cooks. It has changed how I think about recipes by showing many flavor combinations. The book is organized alphabetically by different ingredients, such as spices, nuts, herbs, fruits, and vegetables. For each ingredient, it features unique flavor pairings. I find it essential for my personal and professional cooking.

Its main goal is to highlight the many ways to pair ingredients, inspiring creativity in the kitchen. Whenever I need new ideas for pairing, I turn to this book. As someone who develops recipes and enjoys creating unique dishes, I believe this book is timeless.

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.

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!

This book was my first love in the world of food writing, and it’s a romance that still continues to nourish and ravish many years later.

Simply put, M.F.K. Fisher’s seminal memoir about living, eating, and cooking in 1930s France is one of the most eloquent and moving testaments to the radical power of gastronomy to change and deepen our lives. By sharing her own culinary revelations and gastronomical epiphanies, Fisher helped me to reflect on my own ah-ha food moments and to be hungry for more of them.

The book shows us how food connects us, cuts across time and cultures, and makes us fall in love with our own lives.