Home Cooking (Paperback)

After reading the first volume, I had to write her a letter. I was telling her about a recipe to which she responded by saying, "sounds way too complicated to me." The recipe had only three ingredients. We would periodically exchange letters (she actually sent postcards). So when she died of a heart attack at the age of 48, I was stunned and profoundly sad. I thought I would be reading her Gourmet columns for years to come. Now that wonderful voice was silenced.

I've made Colwin's simple roast chicken many times. Her chocolate cakes are predictably wonderful, but it is her recipe for "Damp Gingerbread," that I return to most often. And when I do, I invariably reread one of her chapters. You can't imagine a more vivid and cozy writer. It's Colwin's distinct voice that captures my imagination--the simplicty of her prose style, the elegance of her thoughts and her refusal to take anything too seriously (except her daughter) that I find most appealing. This is writing that makes you smile. You can actually smell things cooking in these stories. I hope they stay in print forever for generations to admire. So the next time you're thinking of roast chicken (and who doesn't) pull down a copy of HOME COOKING.

I don't like to cook. Unfortunately, I sometimes get hungry, and I like to eat good food. Liking good food and not liking to cook don't go together very well. Lauri Colwin devotes an entire chapter to potato salad, a chapter she begins "There is no such thing as really bad potato salad. So long as the potatoes are not undercooked, it tastes pretty good to me." I'm here to tell you that is simply not true. Colwin never had the misfortune of eating some of my early potato salads. For years, I made really bad potato salad, and the potatoes were not undercooked. What exactly was wrong with my potato salad? I wish I knew. I followed Mother's recipe. She made great potato salad, but mine tasted like dirt. Have you ever tasted dirt? It's nasty. Finally, I gave up potato salad (I don't care for supermarket potato salad) and just regarded it as a gourmet treat whenever someone else served it. About five years ago, I decided to try again. It was delicious. Now I'm not ashamed to take my potato salad anywhere, and it often gets compliments.

Sometimes I think the food knows when you don't want to have anything to do with its preparation and refuses to cooperate. I have a very long list of foods that don't want to cooperate. Reading Lauri Colwin's book isn't likely to make me a better cook, but at least it made me think it might be pleasant to be one. Her breadmaking saga is especially entertaining.