The ‘Joy Of Cooking’

A cookbook taught me the joy of cooking for others…

When I graduated from college, a family member bought me some of her favorite kitchen essentials for my new home: three sturdy casserole dishes and two classic cookbooks.

At the time, I’m ashamed to admit, I wasn’t very appreciative of the gifts, as I didn’t really enjoy cooking and bristled at the expectation that I should. But decades later, her thoughtful gifts are not only still in my kitchen, they have become beloved members of my household.

The dishes, permanently stained from countless meals, are still used every week, and one of the books, the “Joy of Cooking,” is a trusted friend whose recipes have helped me make delicious food for more than 25 years.

And it all began when my husband opened it one day to help him roast a chicken.

That was cool.

Because the simple-yet-perfect instructions for cooking a whole chicken with only butter and salt created such delicious results, my husband began turning to the book for many more meals.

And while I don’t remember how many recipes my husband used from the book before I tried my first, I do remember which one it was: Beef stew, which I cooked for us one Christmas Eve.

1. Beef Stew, page 669

Of course there were a few more steps involved in making stew than roasting a chicken, much more than a lazy cook like me would like, but again the results were so delicious they made all the work well worth it — and turned my making beef stew on Christmas Eve into our new holiday tradition.

And while I can’t cook the stew in one of the casserole dishes that Sharon gave me with the book, I do cook them in another gift from a family member: A Dutch oven my father-in-law gave us one year for Christmas.

2. Scottish Shortbread, page 820

After such great success with the stew, I next tried a dessert, which I must admit I chose just for me: shortbread cookies, which remind me of the cookies my mother would bake — Russian Tea Cakes, which are also delightful mounds of mostly butter, sugar and flour.

But my mother didn’t make them very often, and when she did they were for her co-workers, because she did not allow her daughters to eat much sugar. So since I still vividly remember standing in a kitchen suddenly full of glorious smells and gazing longingly at those freshly baked cookies I could only eat one or two of, it gave me great pleasure knowing I could eat as much of that buttery Scottish shortbread as I wanted when I made my first batch.

Yet soon I got even more pleasure out of making the cookies for someone else. On a whim I made some for my boss, who not only said afterward that “shortbread cookies are one of my most favorite things ever,” but that the ones I made were particularly delicious — thanks again of course to the “Joy of Cooking,” which advises adding some rice flour to give the cookies a more delightfully crumbly texture.

So years later when her husband died, I knew exactly what to give my boss, who again sent me a nice note afterward to say that the cookies had come at a perfect time, because she was having a friend over for tea.

I smiled knowing she would be having company to enjoy the cookies with, but also smiled knowing that the book had helped me finally find a satisfying way to connect with people that didn’t leave them confused and me cringing.

Usually, my attempts at casual affection turn into an awkward dance that leaves us both uncomfortable, but with cooking I could offer friendly love to other humans without feeling like an alien — yet another way the “Joy of Cooking” gave me joy.

3. Basic Pizza Dough, page 752

Now with complete trust in the book, I decided to finally attempt a recipe I had wanted to make for my husband for years: pizza dough.

Though I had learned to roll out dough like an expert thanks to my years working at a pizza place after high school, I was too intimidated to make my own dough because all my prior attempts at yeast bread were miserable failures.

But of course, the first dough I made with the “Joy of Cooking” was a complete success, giving me the satisfaction of making one of my husband’s favorite meals, and reliving one of my favorite work memories: The mornings I spent alone in the restaurant rolling out dough with only the radio for company.

Thanks to that cookbook, I could have those moments again in my own home, magnified by the joy of making something I knew would give my husband joy. And, to my surprise, I still enjoy making that pizza now, even though I can no longer eat it after discovering I am allergic to wheat.

But, again, the book helped me change — from a person who bakes a batch of cookies that she wants to eat every bite of, to one who gets even more joy from making a pizza she won’t even eat one bite of.

4. Galette, page 882, with cornmeal flaky pastry dough, page 864

But the recipe that inspired the most surprising — heck, downright miraculous — changes in me was something I never heard of until the “Joy of Cooking”: a galette.

I first made a galette, frankly, because it seemed much easier than a pie since there is only one crust, but it quickly became my favorite dessert to make, especially an apple galette with the “cornmeal flaky pastry dough.”

Not only full of butter like the shortbread cookies, it features cornmeal, so it is especially easy and tasty to make without wheat. But the best part about the galette is how it improved my most complicated family relationship.

Like many (dare I say most?) married women, I have a fraught relationship with my mother-in-law, whom I frankly have struggled to form warm feelings for that are separate from the love I feel for her son.

But her appreciation for the galettes is so complete, they began creating those warm feelings for me each time I baked one. Since I make them without much sugar and even without much fruit, most people don’t consider them the ideal dessert.

To another family member, the galette was so dry I bought her ice cream to eat it with, but my mother-in-law loves the galettes just as I make them.

So last weekend when I stopped by with a galette still warm from the oven, she opened the foil and started eating it immediately with her hands. And watching her sigh and sing with unabashed joy as she ate my baking — yes, that gave me joy, too.

And that was very cool.