Looking back, I’m not sure when my love for cookbooks began. I have always found great comfort in following recipes, especially ones with a story or memory attached. Initially this came in the form of handwritten recipes from both my parents, often on recycled pieces of scrap paper. When I decided to head west to complete my master’s degree, my mother gave me a small red notebook filled with some of our “family classics” that included butter tarts and my mom’s Cake Mocha. On paper torn out of old daily planners and tucked inside that notebook, were recipes from my dad – cretons, baked beans and his special sauces. I think that maybe they were afraid that I would lose touch with my Northern Québec roots.
Mom prided herself on her tourtière recipe, which she made in large batches every Christmas. I remember trying to make them on my own a few times in my 20s, but they never tasted as good as hers did. One summer, while visiting her in Québec, I asked her to walk me through her process. We went shopping, bought the ground pork (no other types of meat here), onions and potatoes as well as lard and a can of 7Up (to make a new dough recipe from my sister-in-law). In her tiny kitchen, I watched attentively as she prepared the meat by placing diced onions, pork, and spices into a large pot. Then to my surprise, filling the pot with milk and then on low heat, letting it simmer for a couple of hours.
“Milk?” There was no mention of milk in the recipe she gave me. “Bien sûr, you always have to cook the pork in milk,” she said in her broken English, or what we laughingly called “Franglais.” “It adds flavour and makes the meat more tendre.” Well, that was one step I had missed. The next was when she added a substantial amount of allspice. In her words, “you just know when there is enough.” My mother seldom measured any of the ingredients; it was mostly by touch and taste.
Dad, on the other hand, loved to experiment with new dishes that he’d find in various newspapers and magazines. I am pretty sure that his Bœuf Bourguignon recipe came from one of those clippings, but he always said it was his own concoction. He also took credit for our family’s baked bean recipe, but it wasn’t until years after he had passed that my mother told me that it was actually her mother’s recipe. She just let him think it was his own as he was the one who always cooked the beans and added his own touch by finishing them off with a bit of maple syrup on top while they baked overnight in the oven.
After I moved to Vancouver, my dad gave me a year’s subscription to Coup de Pouce, a culinary magazine from Québec. This was his way of sharing his passion for finding new and interesting recipes, especially ones specific to our French Canadian heritage. It was around that time I started to expand my cooking repertoire and like my dad, seek out enticing new recipes to try.
My first cookbook was Mollie Katzen’s original Moosewood Cookbook. The recipes were easy to follow and so tasty. I still have that book, making the Tabouli and Hungarian Mushroom Soup recipes often; it is weathered and well used, so much so that the binding is held together by tape. Later on, I tried to expand my range of recipes and bought The Silver Palate cookbook but found greater success with Susan Mendelson’s small spiral bound copy of Mama never cooked like this.
And for a while, those were my only cookbooks until I discovered John Bishop’s Cooking at My House at a rummage sale for two dollars. That’s when things really started to change for me. This cookbook made me want to be a better home cook, and showed me how to cook simply but with an air of sophistication. Bishop’s recipes for Pommes Anna and Baked Leeks and Vinaigrette became my go-to side dishes when I wanted to impress someone, and they never let me down. His writing style was clear and his voice came through, as if he was there with me making sure that it would all turn out just fine.
I’ve since amassed a rather large collection of cookbooks, particularly from Canadian and more specifically, West Coast authors. I haven’t counted them in a while, but I’m sure that I am now well over the 500 mark. I love every aspect of them and read them like other people read magazines. They are not just my escape, but also my inspiration. Well-written cookbooks and recipes transport me to a different time and place. And if the authorial voice is clear, it feels like the author is there by my side guiding me as I prepare each dish.
To anyone who knows me, it’s no surprise that for the past four years I was a volunteer judge for the Taste Canada Cookbook Awards. A role I cherished and took very seriously and then when asked to step in as the new Chair for the Awards Committee, I felt that it was the perfect next step for me – personally and professionally. All of my worlds have collided and I now get to spend my time on the very thing that brings me great joy.
Although my collection of cookbooks and recipes has grown, as have my skills in the kitchen, I still have my little red notebook along with various recipes on slips of random pieces of paper and copies of Coup de Pouce. I cook from those recipes whenever I feel homesick and miss my parents who have long since passed. As I layer my dad’s much-loved Medalta bean pot with presoaked beans, diced onions, salt pork, dried mustard, and salt, I feel my parents’ at my side cooking with me, “Not too many onions, just a bit of salt and don’t forget to add a tablespoon of lard and finish with some sirop d’érable.” I miss them terribly, but it is comforting to feel them by my side whenever I cook my favourite family recipes.
As well as being the current Chair of the Awards Committee, Jo-Anne offers collaborative writing services as a freelance writer, content creator and cookbook collaborator through her company Savvy Media.