Jackson Free Press

I have a problem. I can't quit buying cookbooks. I have a bookshelf full of them, and still I buy more. I don't care that I can find thousands of recipes on the Internet; there is something comforting about an actual book. I want to spread out all the volumes containing recipes for saag paneer and see every one of them at once so I can compare their merits. I want to be able to flip pages. I want to be able to really read each one, which would explain why Dana Jacobi's "12 Best Foods Cookbook" (Rodale Books, $21.95) is my current nightstand book.

My obsession started in college when I worked in a small bookstore in Pass Christian one summer. Large portions of my days at the Book Boat were spent alone, rummaging around for something to read. That summer I developed a lasting love for Carson McCullers, Walker Percy and cookbooks.

The first one I bought was "Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant" (Fireside, $24), which is still my all-time favorite. I pull it out at least once a month. This quasi-vegetarian cookbook is divided into countries and geographic regions from Africa to the Southern United States. Thanks to its broken spine, my copy automatically opens up to the chapter on Armenian fare. I think that's more convenient anyway; I need to be reminded how delicious Baked Fish Nicosia is. As with all "used" cookbooks, you can tell what I've cooked from the warped and stained pages. Based on the mess, it appears as if I have cooked Gamberetti in Aglio e Vino quite a bit.

"Bayou Cuisine" (Bayou Cuisine, $14.95) is another cookbook I can't do without. I inherited my Granny's copy, which is a year older than I am. This is my favorite cookbook to read. It is arranged by time periods in Mississippi's history and shows the culinary influences of many ethnic groups. Its recipes range from Shrimp Gumbo to Wild Boar Stew, but my favorite is the one for Orange Slice Cake that my Granny wrote on the inside cover. The cake is awful; it's the fact that it is her recipe that makes it special.

Granny's cake proved that it was possible for something to be too sweet; it made my teeth hurt. We always did our best to avoid it, but Granny would send the leftovers home with us. My stepmother would freeze the leftover cake and feed it to unsuspecting guests just to watch their reactions.

The final cookbook I can't do without is my trusty copy of "The Joy of Cooking" (Scribner, $35). Not the source I turn to for something new and exciting, but if I have a basic question about food preparation, this book will have the answer. Want to know how to cook squash or prepare roasted raccoon? "The Joy of Cooking" has the solution.

I discovered a recipe for crawfish pie during my summer of sorting through cookbooks at the Book Boat. While I lost the original instructions years ago, I think my version is just as good—I've traded car repairs for my crawfish pie!