I just finished A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith. What a marvellous, detailed, bittersweet book. It perfectly captures the lonely, confusing, exciting feels of growing up. I plan to write a review soon.

For now, though, I came across an article on NPR about Cookbooks for lean times, and it reminded me of the book I just finished.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is the story of Francie Nolan, a little girl living in Brooklyn in the early 1900s. Francie and her family are very poor, to the extent that while they never end up homeless, rent is a concern every month, and putting food on the table is a constant struggle. The only kind of “poverty” I ever experienced in childhood went about as far as having a secondhand bicycle instead of a new one. I’ve never gone hungry a day in my life, and reading about the Nolan family’s daily battle with hunger was humbling and sad. It was also fascinating, reading some of the creative solutions Francie’s mother came up with, and the myriad original and even delicious-sounding things she could do with stale bread.

The three cookbooks T. Susan Chang reviews on NPR sound along much the same lines – learning to do with what you have, but have the skills and knowledge to do it well and creatively. Read:

Tasty, by Roy Finamore
If there’s a prize for Creating a Sensation with the Fewest Ingredients, I think it has to go to Tasty, by Roy Finamore. Marinate a cheap steak in beer and molasses! Watermelon and red onion — chilled in gin! In recipe after recipe, familiar friends from the supermarket rub shoulders in intriguing new ways. I’ve only had this book for two years and it’s already sporting the frayed jacket and smudged Post-its that are a cookbook’s badge of honor. And I swear, with every recipe I make from this book, I cook a little smarter.

Perfect Vegetables, by the editors of Cook’s Illustrated magazine
Speaking of smarter, sometimes I hate the editors of Cook’s Illustrated, because they’re always right. But that doesn’t stop me from constantly using their books. Perfect Vegetables is my vegetable Wikipedia — the source I turn to when I’m stupidly standing over a cutting board holding a bulb of kohlrabi. Name any item from the produce aisle, and Cook’s Illustrated has grilled it, steamed it, baked it, roasted it or done whatever it takes to wheedle out its vegetable essence. Show me a cook who spends eight hours a day testing 12 batches of zucchini, and I’ll show you someone who has no time for boring.

The Art of Simple Food, by Alice Waters
OK, now I’m going where many have gone before. Yeah, I’m gonna talk about Alice Waters’ latest book. In fact, I like to read a little passage of Alice Waters every night before bedtime while listening to public radio and tucking a little sprig of chervil under my pillow. NPR cliche aside, there’s no denying the facts: In The Art of Simple Food, Waters does more with celery, carrot, onions and parsley than anybody else I can name. Like the beggar in “Stone Soup,” she reintroduces people to simple ingredients as if they’re treasures hidden in plain sight — and at the end, there’s always a meal that turns out to be more than the sum of its parsnips.

So, whether you’re a fat cat, a social butterfly or a lone wolf at a table for one, there’s no reason not to eat well even in times like these. With these three books — and the mad cooking skills you’ll have once you’ve read them — the table’s set in style every night, even if you have to start with just a kettle full of water and one plain stone.