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THE READING LIFE · 4 MIN READ · August 15, 2026

My Cookbook Collection: Are Cookbooks Books or Tools?

I never really thought of cookbooks as books. That might sound odd; after all, they are bound, printed, and shelved like any other book. But I’ve always seen them more as tools than as traditional reading material. After all, I don’t read them cover to cover like I do for the other books on my shelves. […]

By MD Crackower

Photo by Dan Gold on Unsplash

I never really thought of cookbooks as books. That might sound odd; after all, they are bound, printed, and shelved like any other book. But I’ve always seen them more as tools than as traditional reading material. After all, I don’t read them cover to cover like I do for the other books on my shelves.

Yet this morning, as I stood in front of my shelves, I realized something: they absolutely belong in my collection.

Even if I write in them, cook from them, highlight family favorites, and add notes in the margins — things I would never dream of doing in my other books — they are still, without a doubt, books.

So what can I say about my cookbook collection?

Like the rest of my library, it is organized by theme, geography, and in space.

The Top Shelf

On the top shelf, desserts occupy one side, and two cholesterol-diet books stand on the other — you know, to keep things balanced. In the middle sits a Christmas cactus (which, for mysterious reasons, has never bloomed).

There are books devoted entirely to cookies and macarons, two juicing and smoothie guides, and Paula Deen’s children’s cookbook — signed by the author… and by its original owner (when she was three).

The Second Shelf

The second shelf features my Pioneer Woman collection. I own four of her books. I must confess: I have never cooked from them. They are beautiful, though. I really should try.

One of them — the blue holiday edition — covers nearly every American holiday imaginable.

Next to them sit two French cookbooks. One is Je sais cuisiner by Ginette Mathiot, a classic that has graced bookstore shelves since the 1970s. My mother learned to cook from that book when she first got married. I brought my copy with me — but I rarely used it here, since all the measurements are in metric: centiliters and degrees Celsius. Last Christmas, however, I was fortunate enough to find an American edition published by Phaidon. I bought it immediately and plan to use it this year.

Following those are my thematic cookbooks: three Downton Abbey volumes and four Disney-inspired books (Star Wars: The Life Day Cookbook, Lilo & Stitch, and The Disney Parks Official Cookbook).

Then come the appliance-focused books: slow cooker, pressure cooker, sous vide, and air fryer, which I use all the time. Some will say, this is not ‘real’ cooking. Considering I had no clue how to cook when I got married (how did I survive until then? I know not), they are for me because they taught me to put good, tasty food on the table.

I will add that the simple fact that my daughter told me two days ago, “I love your cooking,” is big. She is eight and eats curry, corned beef, stews, rice and gravy. I owe it all to these books. They are part of what makes our family. They bring us together around the table to share a meal.

The Bottom Shelf

The last shelf is more eclectic.

Here you’ll find Cajun staples like Talk About Good I and II — essential references published by the local Junior League. There are several more French cookbooks (perhaps I should group them together?), including the famous Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

There’s an Asian cuisine book — I discovered Korean food last year at my piano teacher’s house and fell in love with it — a Jewish cookbook with a tasty onion brisket recipe, a Christmas cookbook I rarely use, and One Pot Dinners, where I found the best lemon chicken drumstick recipe.

A couple of binders sit there as well — practical, unglamorous, but necessary.

So, what should I conclude?

Do I treat my cookbooks the same way I treat the other books in this house?

It seems that I do.

After all, cookbooks tell stories, too. Family stories. They carry memories of mothers teaching daughters, of holidays around a table, of new cuisines discovered unexpectedly. Perhaps that is why they belong on my shelves after all.

They are organized, carefully selected, and neatly arranged. They reflect what I value, what I want to learn, and what I enjoy.

The only difference? I write in some of them. (Never the hardcovers.)

And you?

Where do you keep your cookbooks?
Do you think of them as a collection, a series, or simply tools?
What do you like to cook, and how do you choose your books?

Tell me in the comments, and I’ll see you soon for more book talks.

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MD CRACKOWER

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