Wait! You don’t need that intro again. You don’t need to hear me wax poetic about books in the trees, or Jo March, or the Bobbsey Twin’s Luau.  You just need to know that today we’re revisiting Great Reads for Culinary Kids, and that we’ve added marvelous reader suggestions to the list, and have plenty of room for more.

Here’s the original list Josie and I compiled, plus a new selection from our readers. They run from picture books to young adult (or 42-year old adult). Do you have a favorite food read, or a great food scene you never forgot? Add yours to the list. Happy (and Hungry) Reading.

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Fanny at Chez Panisse Alice Waters, 1997

Truly charming story-plus-cookbook by a culinary royal. Alice Waters describes how her young daughter, Fanny, spends her days at mom’s famous Berkeley restaurant, sorting tiny eggplants, hiding in stock pots and watching chefs at work.

Bread and Jam for Frances Russell Hoban, 1964

Frances will only eat bread and jam, so her mother gives it to her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I would like to reenact this as “Deep Dish Pizza for Marilyn.”

Blueberries for Sal Robert McCloskey, 1948

The classic picture book of blueberry picking, a bear cub, mothers and life in Maine.

Amelia Bedelia Peggy Parish, 1963

I always liked the many good qualities of free-spirited Amelia Bedelia: she was a tall, skinny smiler, and she cheerfully screwed up everything. I particularly admired the way she could neutralize any angry person by feeding them lemon meringue pie.

In the Night Kitchen Maurice Sendak, 1970

Though there was controversy over the depiction of a nearly baked-in-a-cake naked boy, all I saw was a fantastical look at how a bakery worked overnight. Sendak’s illustrated world – especially with flour and sugar – never fails to stop me in my tracks.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar Eric Carle, 1969

The classic caterpillar eats every food in sight, until he finds all he really needs is one plain and perfect green leaf. Truth? I didn’t want him to eat the leaf. I wanted him to keep eating salami and ice cream.

Eloise in Paris Kay Thompson, 1957

I was lucky to inherit a stack of 60′s-era Eloise books, and Paris was my favorite. Her champagne cork necklace! Baguettes! Dinner at Maxim’s! It was all rawther delicious.

Little House in the Big Woods Laura Ingalls Wilder, 1932

I could blog every day for a year about the Ingalls family and how they rest in the mind of most every woman I know – but for now I’ll just serve highlights: maple syrup snow, sideboard of pies, sour pickles, a crackling pig’s tail. Onion wreaths in the root cellar. So memorable were Laura’s food passages that they eventually filled The Little House Cookbook, as noted in this lovely post by Paige Smith Orloff.

Strega Nona Tomie DePaola, 1979

A wise Italian witch with the power to conjure up pasta. What’s not to love?

Heidi Johanna Spyri, 1880

One of my all-time favorites, the story of a Swiss girl and her grandfather in the Alps is really about toasting golden cheese, curing sausages, warm goat’s milk, and soft white bakery rolls. Do not be fooled by the jacket copy. It’s all about the food.

Anatole Eve Titus, 1956

And here is where Simmer readers fall down. Yes indeed, I love a book about a mouse, a mouse who wears a beret and tastes cheese in the cheese factory. When I first read it – decades before the pear incident – I was dazzled by his little scarf, and all those Bries and bleus.

Strawberry Girl Lois Lenski, 1945

A terrific book I never forgot – Lois Lenski’s story of hard living for rural Florida “crackers,” a detailed, often sad picture of Birdie Boyer and the tough world around her. Strawberries are everywhere, all about growing them, picking them, eating them. A classic for 9-12 readers.

James and the Giant Peach Roald Dahl, 1961

This book made me dream of waking up, rolling over and eating chunks of peach from the wall. Enough said.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone J.K. Rowling, 1997

Oh sure, there’s dueling and wands and danger, but what thrills me at Hogwarts is dessert. I mean, Dumbledore claps his hands and profiteroles fill the hall. Magic, or what?

Suggested by readers and family, the additions:

Farmer Boy Laura Ingalls Wilder, 1933

Both my 13-year-old daughter Josie and the full-grown Merrill Stubbs from food52 added another Laura Ingalls Wilder classic, Farmer Boy. The story of Almanzo Wilder – young Laura’s future husband – is possibly the most food-rich “Little House” book of all. And that’s certainly due to the prosperity of the New York State Wilders, who were always ready to feast: flapjacks and eggnog, braided donuts and candy, roast pork and golden pumpkins.

Dim Sum for Everyone! Grace Lin, 2001

Reader Julie Whitehorn suggested great books like Frank Asch’s Moonbear and Karen Wallace’s Scarlett Beane, but the one that caught my dumpling-loving eye was Grace Lin’s Dim Sum For Everyone! A girl visits a dim sum restaurant with her family and chooses treats to share from the rolling trolleys: cakes, buns, tarts and – of course – dumplings.

All-of-a-Kind Family Sydney Taylor, 1951

Both blogging singer Emma Wallace and my super-reader cousin Robin noted one of Josie’s all-time favorites, the All-of-a-Kind Family series. The books tell the story of a Jewish family living on New York’s Lower East Side in the early 1900′s – wonderful characters, but what everyone seems to remember is the food: penny candy varieties like chocolate babies, chicken corn, lemon-snap and ginger; stuffed sour cream blintzes and pickles, and descriptions of “chick peas! fine, hot chickpeas!”

A Girl of the Limberlost Gene Stratton Porter, 1909

Savour Fare’s Kate suggested this unusual classic, the story of Elnora Comstock, a poor rural girl who catches rare moths to put herself through high school. In one remarkable scene, Elnora opens her lunch box: “She scarcely could believe her senses. Half the bread compartment was filled with dainty sandwiches of bread and butter sprinkled with the yolk of egg and the remainder with three large slices of the most fragrant spice cake imaginable. The meat dish contained shaved cold ham, of which she knew the quality, the salad was tomatoes and celery, and the cup held preserved pear, clear as amber.”

A Book Buffet from Pinot and Prose:

As a serious cook and former librarian now in children’s publishing, blogger Laura Lutz knows her way around “foodie kid lit.” Laura’s recommendations:

“I can’t say enough about Kitchen Dance by Maurie Manning  – it captures not just the joy of food but the kitchen as well.”

“The Adventurous Chef: Alexis Soyer by Ann Arnold also gives kids some culinary history info – I found out a lot that I didn’t know. Also on culinary history, Bring Me Some Apples and I’ll Make You a Pie (the story of chef Edna Lewis) by Robbin Gourley is particularly well-written.”

“For older readers, I loved Dear Julia by Amy Bronwen Zemser – this is appropriate for tweens even though the characters are older. I also ADORED Madame Pamplemousse and her Incredible Edibles, by Rupert Kingfisher. It’s super short but holds so much magic in such a tiny package.”

“For teenagers, The Sweet Life of Stella Madison by Lara M. Zeises is really wonderful. Great characters, fantastic food descriptions.”

———

Sara at Culinerapy – and countless others – reminded me about Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs by Judi and Ron Barrett.  Sara particularly loves “its pea soup fog and Cream of Wheat snow banks.”  Erin Nichols recalled great food scenes from Beverly Cleary’s Ramona Quimby, Age 8 including “the infamous egg-bashing on head incident, and the yogurt-marinated chicken dinner that she and Beezus make for their parents.” Finally, Beach House’s Jane notes that both Alice in Wonderland and Babar feature plenty of incredible eats.

Your turn! Add your own favorite read for culinary kids (and this now-very-hungry adult).

* Print the whole list? Why not. Click here for a PDF.

Isn’t that nice? But before my mother objects, let’s rephrase: one sweaty Chicago summer, my brother and I nearly killed each other nailing two boards into a tree. We pounded rows of crooked nails into little boards for steps, and as high as we could get, two larger boards for seats. It wasn’t much, but it was up in the leaves, perfect for neighborhood spying and perfect for summer reading. I would make two separate climbs before settling in: one toting a snack-filled Partridge Family lunchbox, and another dragging a library bag full of books.

It won’t surprise you to hear that many of my favorite reads, both then and now, feature food. But what I really love are books that don’t announce they’re about food – they just are: Heidi toasting cheese in her Alps, Jo March eating apples in the garret, Mary and Laura pouring maple in the snow. These were the bits I read and reread, and then snacked and read again. Don’t even get me started on The Bobbsey Twins’s luau and the pig roast. Now that was a page-turner.

Lucky for me – or no accident at all – my daughter tasted books the same way. Here’s a list we compiled together of great culinary reads for kids, all so good and so timeless, this adult likes to sample them now. They run from picture books to young adult (or 41-year old adult.) Do you have a favorite food read, or a great food scene you never forgot? Add yours to the list. Happy (and Hungry) Reading.

Fanny at Chez Panisse Alice Waters, 1997

Truly charming story-plus-cookbook by a culinary royal. Alice Waters describes how her young daughter, Fanny, spends her days at mom’s famous Berkeley restaurant, sorting tiny eggplants, hiding in stock pots and watching chefs at work.

Bread and Jam for Frances Russell Hoban, 1964

Frances will only eat bread and jam, so her mother gives it to her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I would like to reenact this as “Deep Dish Pizza for Marilyn.”

Blueberries for Sal Robert McCloskey, 1948

The classic picture book of blueberry picking, a bear cub, mothers and life in Maine.

Amelia Bedelia Peggy Parish, 1963

I always liked the many good qualities of free-spirited Amelia Bedelia: she was a tall, skinny smiler, and she cheerfully screwed up everything. I particularly admired the way she could neutralize any angry person by feeding them lemon meringue pie.

In the Night Kitchen Maurice Sendak, 1970

Though there was controversy over the depiction of a nearly baked-in-a-cake naked boy, all I saw was a fantastical look at how a bakery worked overnight. Sendak’s illustrated world – especially with flour and sugar – never fails to stop me in my tracks.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar Eric Carle, 1969

The classic caterpillar eats every food in sight, until he finds all he really needs is one plain and perfect green leaf. Truth? I didn’t want him to eat the leaf. I wanted him to keep eating salami and ice cream.

Eloise in Paris Kay Thompson, 1957

I was lucky to inherit a stack of 60′s-era Eloise books, and Paris was my favorite. Her champagne cork necklace! Baguettes! Dinner at Maxim’s! It was all rawther delicious.

Little House in the Big Woods Laura Ingalls Wilder, 1932

I could blog every day for a year about the Ingalls family and how they rest in the mind of most every woman I know – but for now I’ll just serve highlights: maple syrup snow, sideboard of pies, sour pickles, a crackling pig’s tail. Onion wreaths in the root cellar. So memorable were Laura’s food passages that they eventually filled The Little House Cookbook, as noted in this lovely post by Paige Smith Orloff.

Strega Nona Tomie DePaola, 1979

A wise Italian witch with the power to conjure up pasta. What’s not to love?

Heidi Johanna Spyri, 1880

One of my all-time favorites, the story of a Swiss girl and her grandfather in the Alps is really about toasting golden cheese, curing sausages, warm goat’s milk, and soft white bakery rolls. Do not be fooled by the jacket copy. It’s all about the food.

Anatole Eve Titus, 1956

And here is where Simmer readers fall down. Yes indeed, I love a book about a mouse, a mouse who wears a beret and tastes cheese in the cheese factory. When I first read it – decades before the pear incident – I was dazzled by his little scarf, and all those Bries and bleus.

Strawberry Girl Lois Lenski, 1945

A terrific book I never forgot – Lois Lenski’s story of hard living for rural Florida “crackers,” a detailed, often sad picture of Birdie Boyer and the tough world around her. Strawberries are everywhere, all about growing them, picking them, eating them. A classic for 9-12 readers.

James and the Giant Peach Roald Dahl, 1961

This book made me dream of waking up, rolling over and eating chunks of peach from the wall. Enough said.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone J.K. Rowling, 1997

Oh sure, there’s dueling and wands and danger, but what thrills me at Hogwarts is dessert. I mean, Dumbledore claps his hands and profiteroles fill the hall. Magic, or what?

“Fines.”

“Not us! It’s yours.”

“Oh? We’ll see.”

…ph-chtt-ph-chtt-ph-chtt…

The three of us watched the tape go up, up and over like a gymnast, finally hitting the counter in a dramatic heap.

…ph-chtt…ph-chtt…PH…chtt.

The clerk tore off the tape and all three of us grabbed for it – Josie actually jumped for it. The clerk looked startled.

(goodbye crazy family – yeah we’re, um, closing now. Right now.)

Greg held the tape high above his head, saying in his most embarrassing dad voice, “now we will JUST SEE what we have here.”

One glance and Josie was elated – eleven dollars, some me and mostly him. It wasn’t her – no Nancy Drew under the bed, no Judy Blume behind the seats. “Ha!”

Greg produced the money – “it’s our donation to the library” – took the new books, and we left. On the way out, Josie loudly recited the shameful yellow list. Satisfied that she was least at fault, she gave it back, asking “Isn’t there some kind of day where you bring the books back and they, you know, forgive you?”

Ah yes. We all know Library Fine Amnesty Day, right? That’s the day you sheepishly put the books on the counter and say thank you, I really enjoyed The Thorn Birds…as a matter of fact, I’ve been enjoying it since 1981. Thanks!

But I have a book that I can’t bring back. One that I checked out of the culinary school library in 1993 – maybe no naming the school just now – and it just…stayed. I was exploring international cookies that semester, and liked their spritz recipe. I liked it so much that I baked those cookies….about 2,000 times.

I meant to bring it back, I did, and could have copied the recipe, I know – but that folded-down corner, buttery and torn, marks so many days in the kitchen. A lot of back page crumbs.

Forgive me, Miss Culinarian Librarian, but they piped so beautifully, browned so golden and melted on the tongue. Blame it on the spritz.

Now I know I’m not alone in my tasty wrong-doing — what’s overdue on your shelves?

Spritskakor (Butter Spritz Cookies)

from The International Cookie Cookbook by Nancy Baggett (Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1988)

8 oz. (2 sticks) unsalted butter, slightly softened
2/3 cup powdered sugar
1 large egg yolk
1 1/4 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
2 cups all-purpose or unbleached white flour
optional: 1/2 cup finely ground blanched almonds

decorations: pecans, chocolate sprinkles, crystallized ginger, coconut, etc.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Grease several baking sheets with baker’s spray (or line with parchment paper) and set aside.

Place butter in a large mixing bowl and beat with electric mixer on medium speed until very light. Add the sugar and egg yolk and beat until very fluffy and smooth. Beat in vanilla and almond extracts (and ground almonds, if using). Gradually beat in flour until thoroughly incorporated but not overmixed.

Fit a pastry bag with a large (about 3/8″ diameter) star tip. You may also use a cookie press fitted with a star or other tip.

If using a pastry bag: stand the bag, tip down, in a tall glass and turn down a deep cuff at the top. Spoon the dough into it until the bag is no more than two-thirds full. Unfold the cuff and tightly twist the bag closed at the top. Pipe 1 1/4-inch diameter rosettes onto a baking sheet, spacing about 1 1/2 inches apart.

Press any decorations – pecans, coconut, candied cherry halves, etc – into the center of each cookie, if desired.

Place in the center of the oven and bake the cookies for 7 to 10 minutes, or until slightly browned at the edges. Remove baking sheets from the oven and let cookies stand for 2-3 minutes. Then transfer them to wire racks and let stand until cooled completely.

Store in an airtight container for up to a week. Freeze for longer storage.

Make 50-60 1 3/4″ rosette cookies (fewer if using a large, open tip or press)

———

My notes: After making these, literally, some 2,000+ times in every shape and size imaginable, I’d like to offer a few pointers.

Mixing: Beat the butter until the color changes, until it’s nearly white and whipped so soft it makes a slap-slap sound against the bowl. After adding the flour, continue to mix and combine until it is very soft and smooth – don’t worry too much about “overmixing.” Better over than under, because you need a smooth dough that will pipe cookies without breaking your hand.

Ingredients: I never use the ground almonds – I believe the smoother all-butter version pipes better shapes. About the almond extract – a tiny amount can be very strong. If you’re one of those people who think almond extract tastes like cough syrup, leave it out.

Piping: I can’t stress enough how much more beautiful these cookies are when piped with a pastry bag, but a cookie press is also nice. If you do pipe with a bag, experiment with large rosettes, star shapes, s-shapes and horseshoes.

Decorations: There are two ways to go here, pre-bake decoration and post-bake decoration. Pre-bake might mean flaked coconut or chocolate sprinkles, or pressing crystallized ginger, pecan halves or candied cherries into centers. Post-bake includes sifting powdered sugar, drizzling simple glazes or dipping cookie ends in chocolate.

The best cookie trays have a little of both – but you know what? If you’ve no time or inclination for fuss, these cookies are absolutely perfect with nothing at all. That is the true meaning of the words all-butter – all good.

Previously not on my radar, the books suddenly appeared everywhere, including my kitchen counter. Josie had her nose in book 3 last night while I worked on dinner, pausing just long enough to explain their appeal:

So, he’s like a hundred years old, but he looks like a teenage guy, and he loves this girl at school.

They live in the Northwest and there’s a lot of woods around them. He belongs to this vampire family that doesn’t eat people.

Eat people?

Well – suck blood from people.

Then what do they eat?

They suck animals.

Animals.

Uh-huh. They suck the blood from deer and stuff in the forest. They think it’s morally wrong to bite and drink from humans.

His vampire family calls themselves vegetarians, because they don’t eat people. Just animals.

And they don’t eat people.

No – his dad vampire is even a surgeon who works on humans.

Doesn’t he get excited by the blood?

No. He has a lot of control. And he helps young vampires who still need people’s blood.

Gotcha. Vampire surgeon. Doesn’t drink blood.

Not a drop.

Um, okay. So – he loves a human girl, right? A teenager.

Right – it is so cool. He loves her but he won’t suck her blood. He watches her sleep but he won’t make her a vampire. Then she kind of loves this werewolf guy, too.

She loves a vampire and a werewolf.

Yeah – and werewolves can kill vampires, but they don’t. They have a treaty. It is won-der-ful. It is soooo amazing.

Okay! In other news, I made some delightful meatballs.

Turkey-Ricotta Meatballs

4 slices white bread, crusts removed and cut into 1/2-inch dice
1 1/2 pounds lean ground turkey
3 ounces cooked ham, chopped
3 large eggs, lightly beaten
2/3 cup ricotta cheese (5 ounces)
1/2 cup freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh spinach
2 tablespoons finely shredded fresh basil
2 teaspoons dried oregano, crumbled
1/2 teaspoon fennel seeds, crushed
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper
sea salt and freshly ground pepper

Preheat the oven to 400°.

Use a food processor to pulse the bread to fine crumbs. Remove the crumbs from the processor bowl, and replace it with the ham, spinach, and basil. Process until fine. Place the crumbs and ham-spinach mixture in a large bowl and add the turkey, eggs, ricotta, Pecorino Romano, oregano, fennel seeds, crushed red pepper and 2 teaspoons of sea salt. Grind a few generous turns of black pepper over ingredients, and mix well. Shape into 12-13 jumbo meatballs, or approximately 24 smaller meatballs. Transfer the meatballs to a lightly oiled sheet pan or roasting pan.

On very low heat, simmer several cups of homemade or good-quality jarred marinara sauce. Place meatballs in the oven and bake for about 30 minutes, or until firm and just beginning to brown. Remove from oven and use a spatula to loosen each meatball from the pan. Add meatballs to simmering marinara on stove and adjust sauce seasoning, if necessary, with salt, ground pepper, and oregano. Cover and simmer on low heat for about 15-30 minutes, until meatballs are tender and coated in sauce.

While meatballs and sauce are on stove, cook the pasta of your choice (I like spaghettini, fine spaghetti) and drain, tossing lightly with olive oil. Serve meatballs and sauce, topped by grated pecorino romano and more chopped basil, over pasta.

Serves 4-5

Know your meatball crowd! Double as necessary.

adapted from a Food & Wine recipe by A16′s Nate Appleman

In 1976 Marjorie and her pals Molly and Stella mesmerized me with their summer tale, and I read and re-read it by flashlight until it was torn and nearly spineless. I took Marjorie with me as a clothbound lucky charm, faithful to the red book despite teen boys, a ratty college apartment, young married life and finally, our new old house – she arrived in moving box #28.

My plan was to keep the book safe enough for my some-day Josie’s some-day shelf, and that’s where Marjorie lives today, still well-loved, mostly by flashlight.

Nothing much happens in Marjorie. She finds kittens, presses wildflowers, and – this is key – falls off a roof and sprains her ankle. Laid up by her own foolishness, Marjorie must spend a month in bed. A month? Years later I would think, my god – slap an Ace bandage on that girl and move it along!

While she heals, wacky Uncle Steve-from-the-city brings Marjorie a stack of ladies’ magazines and a blank journal so that she may spend her days in freshly ironed pink pyjamas, making house-scenes in her book.

I’ll bet you six glue sticks Carolyn Wells never dreamed she’d inspire a pony-tailed 70′s girl to do the same, much less her thoroughly modern daughter – but here we are, one hundred and one years after Marjorie took her vacation, still cutting and pasting the only house book we’ll ever need.

Josie’s red room.

my English room

You rock, Carolyn Wells, and your curly-headed Marjorie does, too. Thanks!

It’s one of our favorite used bookstores – or any bookstore – anywhere.

Another unforgettable bookstore that comes to mind is Powell’s, in Portland. Powell’s stretches a city block long and brims like a thousand libraries; you can get lost in the stacks for days.

You won’t get lost at the Dusty Bookshelf.

But you may lose a very pleasant hour or two.

Or just find like-minded, bookish friends.

At The Dusty Bookshelf, whatever you wish has a way of finding you.

Where is your favorite bookstore?

Tell Alice here about it (but she’ll keep her gig in Lawrence, thanks).

Our little family has spent a lot of time together on the road, and on the hunt. Accustomed to sifting the past from an early age, Josie was sort of raised on antique mall rules:

* look but don’t touch; touch but don’t break
* keep an open mind; don’t even think about it
* quality is always worth it; but never, ever pay too much.

Each of us has a preferred hunting style. Greg only goes for the big game – tables, chairs, paintings, and metal signs from long-bankrupt hotels. Josie takes off by herself now, disappearing into piles of books and marbles and suddenly-cool vintage jewelry.

While Greg sweeps big, I move in close and examine the small – little porcelain dishes, charm bracelets, footed cake plates and silver pie servers. When Josie was a squirmy toddler, I couldn’t always do this; instead, we’d zoom through on a mission – must find rusty copper bucket – and leave wondering what we’d missed.

But this weekend I peered aimlessly, endlessly, at rows of salt-and-pepper shakers. I picked up every tiny china dish and read every inscription (“for Eleanor on her birthday, with love from Aunt Clara”) inside every well-worn cover.

The unfettered pace might have been luxurious, but it felt like something was missing – something like my arm, or my wallet, or my head. As always, Greg appraised tables on one side of the floor and I held up floral teapots on the other – but in between, someone was conspicuously not showing me this marble or that necklace.

A good time, a relaxed time – a different time. There was no big prize, but many small treasures:

I’m magnetically drawn to little candy dishes and saucers. If it’s fragile, floral, or beautifully printed, it will

soon join its siblings here in the House of Tiny Crackled Trays.

This one now lives in my bedroom – sweet clutter, farewell!

A 1950′s reprint of the 1925 French Home Cooking, it had me at “bonjour.”

The most adorable tiny dish ever, reading “Home Sweet Home, East Hampton, NY.” A quick googling showed it to be the 1720′s home of one J.H. Payne, writer of the famous “Home Sweet Home” song, as in “be it ever so humble.” The home is now a museum, and that makes this dish an official souvenir from a place I’ve never been. Delightful!

This little gem joined the candy dish in the bedroom, where it’s currently holding Greg’s loose change. And since it’s now a man’s dish, I am duty-bound to revoke the words “adorable,” “gem,” and “delightful” – from here on, it’s just “useful.”

Finally, I snagged this uber-fantastic Red Cross First Aid guide from the 50′s.

The illustrations are so funny and so irony-free, I’ll have to save them for their own post. Unfortunately, the lovely green cover had a slight tear and an ugly tape job. Normally I don’t alter vintage books, but…

The way things are changing, someone’s got to have something to take care of around here.

Know what? I kind of liked it. Marilyn the Librarian. Sue me, but I love The Music Man.

I ripped open boxes and categorized until my fingers bled. And while leaning into box after box, I recalled a few very good reads from 2007, and decided to give you seven short reviews.

Fifty Acres and a Poodle Jeanne Marie Laskas

I had an airport delay in November and didn’t even mind, because it let me tear through this wonderful memoir in one sitting. Recommended by Rechelle over at Country Doctor’s Wife, it actually surpasses “laugh and cry” – it’s all that and more. A funny and intelligent tale of leaving both city and self behind.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows JK Rowling

All three of us are great big dorky Harry Potter fans. We generally fight over the book on release days, but this year, poor Josie had oral surgery in July. She missed the midnight Border’s party and was still pretty anesthetized when her friends hand-delivered the book at 1 AM.

On the plus side, her hazy state gave us a fighting chance to read Rowling’s amazing finale first. The kid devoured that whole doorstop of a book the next day – gauze, codeine, milkshakes and all.

The Not So Big House Sarah Susanka

Way back, a year ago, some cosmic switch was thrown and we got the never-before idea that we could build a house. Susanka’s famous house bible quickly became our constant reference companion; so much that after admiring her work for months and papering it with Post-It notes – natural light window here? – we convinced ourselves that hey, we already knew all this stuff, and jeez, her plans were crazy expensive to produce, and in the end we started calling it “The Not So Cheap House.”

Still it’s a must-read for anyone interested in houses – I suppose familiarity just can’t help but breed contempt. Of course, she’s a household name and I’m just a blogger shelving her books. But whatever.

Marathoning for Mortals John Bingham, Jenny Hadfield

Yeah, well, this was the year Josie and I were going to train for a marathon together…but she hated getting up early…and my mind was on the house…and our dog Cleo is a spastic runner. Her favorite game is to grab the leash in her mouth, cut wildly across my path, then drag me through the park by my ankles. Clearly, we are but mortals.

Possession AS Byatt

If you like intricate, hypnotic and truly complicated fiction, Possession is for you. I’ll bet I’ve read the novel a dozen times, but this year, I just picked up small sections whenever I needed a shot of comforting and familiar. What’s your “comfort” read?

Food Lover’s Guide to Paris Patricia Wells

Because we were going to Paris this year. But then we built a house.

How to Meditate: A Guide to Self-Discovery Lawrence LeShan

Let me just say that this book was clear, practical, and really, really good. But here is what I discovered about monkey mind me: I can’t get past two or three “oms” without thinking about dinner. I’m not usually a self-help girl, but someone I know recommended it, someone so deeply peaceful and spiritual and unlike myself that she would never worry about, say, the microwave sticking out a very annoying half inch past the cabinetry.

Anyway, I was sure it would help me de-stress while Greg and I debated like OCD poster children over window cranks and wood stains and grout colors. But it was not to be.

If only it had been called How to Mediate.