Kate Colquhoun is a UK food writer whose work has appeared in the Daily Telegraph, The Times, Country Life and Delicious magazine, among others. She is known as a crusader against food waste, on a mission to turn the British public into better, and more thrifty, cooks.

The Thrifty Cookbook is, then, a sort of manifesto. The first two chapters, What’s Thrifty Cooking? and How to Waste Less Food lay the groundwork: a shocking amount of food is wasted every year from ordinary kitchens, simply because people don’t know what to do with it. The 14 chapters that follow put those ideas into practice, and include the expected Some Basics, Soups, Pies, Tarts and Pizzas and Eggs and Cheese, but also chapters like Things to do with Bread and Fruit Past its Best.

Within these chapters, the book follows the style that seems to be trending in the cookbook market this days: several basic recipes, with umpteen variations. For instance, a recipe for classic Bubble and Squeak (pg. 151) has 14 adaptations, including Rösti, Parsnip and Apple, and Spanish Trinxat. This does mean that there’s rather a lot of reading to be done here, if you want to extract maximum recipe potential.

Of course, that’s not a bad thing; the design of The Thrifty Cookbook makes flipping through its pages a treat. Printed on attractive recycled paper in a user-friendly 6 x 9″ format, it features a simple layout and thoughtful organization. The book is also peppered with cute and whimsical line drawings, included both for instruction purposes (as in how to make Plain Risotto, pg. 176) and for visual relief. Some might miss photos in a cookbook (there aren’t any here), but that’s personal preference. I like the sketches, and don’t feel that such simple meals really need photographs, anyway.

So, on to the recipes. They are as I say, simple, with a focus on grasping basic kitchen techniques before building on them to create dishes. Basics include Making Stocks (pg. 27), Jams and Preserves (pg. 39), Stews (pg. 72) and Pizzas (pg. 125), all of which are great for using up leftovers and refrigerator odds and ends. I tried the recipe for Onion Tart (pg. 120) and both the filling and Shortcrust Pastry (pg. 110) get the thumbs-up. I also liked the Savoury Pancakes (pg. 196) and the Cheese Soufflé with Broccoli (pg. 204).

It’s difficult for me to be objective about whether or not The Thrifty Cookbook meets its “thrifty” goals. Cooking with leftovers and planning ahead are things that come naturally to me, so I can’t say for sure whether this book would help anyone else reduce waste. There are useful tips here, such as how to refresh and re-use leftover pasta (pg. 182) and Recipes Using Separated Eggs (pg. 199). Other ideas, such as using over-ripe bananas to make Banana Cake (pg. 246) leave me a bit cold. I mean, duh.

At the end of the day, I think The Thrifty Cookbook is a great resource for a specific audience. Those just learning their way around the kitchen, students living away from home for the first time, and people finding themselves with a suddenly reduced food budget would all find the information between its pages useful and inspiring.

For my purposes though, I feel a bit beyond the book’s teachings, and for that reason am awarding The Thrifty Cookbook three stars. However, they’re well-deserved ones, and I’m sure in some kitchens this book would be worth more.

For some reason, I felt that owning a copy of Deborah Madison‘s Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone was a prerequisite for being a “real” vegetarian. As if not owning this book were somehow an admittance of amateurism, or an open invitation for mocking by more “serious” vegetarians.

My parents (despite not being vegetarian themselves) have been cooking from this comprehensive book for years, but living across the ocean from them as I do, it was imperative to buy my own copy. Luckily, there was a 10 year anniversary edition out, so it was with a firm heart and aching back and that I lugged a copy home from a trip to New York City last May. (It was cheaper in North America, and luckily my lifestyle change coincided with a planned holiday.)

Like most encyclopedia-style cookbooks, Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone starts off with several introductory chapters, covering things like shopping in season, menu planning, kitchen tools and cooking techniques. The recipes themselves are organized into an impressive fifteen chapters, covering the to-be-expected Vegetables, Grains, Eggs and Cheese and Desserts, as well as the less common Sandwiches, The Soy Pantry and Breads by Hand. Within these chapters ingredients are given due respect; you can find out which potatoes are best for which recipes (pg. 408), brush up on types of cheeses (pg. 584-587), or learn about how different varieties of rice are processed (pg. 536).

Most everything I’ve made from this book has turned out well. Penne with Tomatoes, Olives, Lemon and Basil (pg. 454) is a favourite, as is Curried Quinoa with Peas and Cashews (pg. 534). The Polenta Gratin with Tomato, Fontina and Rosemary (pg. 526) was even good enough to impress my Mum when she was visiting. Deborah’s breads and baked goods are similarly dependable; her recipe for Naan (pg. 674) is my go-to one for serving with curries, and her Ginger Cream Scones (pg. 651) go down a treat. Add to these successes the fact that the ingredient lists here tend toward short and the instructions toward clear, and you’ve got a winner.

Why then, don’t I reach for this book more often? As much as I love Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, more often than not it stays on the shelf while I reach for my trusty copy of How to Cook Everything Vegetarian instead. Deborah and Mark’s books are similarly structured, and though Deborah came along a decade earlier, I can’t help feeling that Mark does the whole vegetarian-encyclopedia thing a bit better.

A quick internet search reveals that I’m not alone in feeling this way; for some reason, Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone doesn’t feel as relevant today as it perhaps used to. Whether it’s the style of the food, the style of the writing or both, I can’t be sure. It could be simply down to the look of the book, which though clean and attractive, is hardly all that modern or exciting.

I don’t think we should be too hard on this book, though, as there are things it does very well. While Mark’s recipes have an “everyday” feel to them, Deborah’s food comes off as a bit more special. While I prefer How to Cook Everything Vegetarian on a stressful mid-week evening, I’m more likely to reach for Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone on a lazy Sunday afternoon, or when I really want to pull out all the stops and impress someone. I definitely think there’s room for both books in a vegetarian kitchen.

Having considered it, I think Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone deserves a solid four stars. The quality of the information and recipes is top-notch, and you’ll find both classic dishes and new ideas in here. The only drawback is a slight lack of that elusive “pull” factor, and even that’s probably just personal preference. In any case, I can’t imagine anyone would be disappointed after buying this book. (But maybe just order it online: trust me, it’s a bit heavy for a trans-Atlantic flight.)

First of all, I need to impart, but am not sure I can adequately put into words, just how freakin’ gorgeous this book is. As somebody who is generally aesthetically-led, I like my instructional manuals with a little eye candy on the side. Having said that, I can appreciate many different styles of cookbook, from spare and encyclopedic to colourful and over-the-top, if done well. Jamie at Home, however, is hands-down my current favourite, combining superb photos, charming illustrations and gorgeous typography. The photos alone are enough to sell it to me- not limited to the dishes themselves, there are also pictures of Jamie’s own garden in Essex, animals frolicking in the British countryside, and wild mushrooms sheltering in idyllic woodland. Printed on quality matte paper, and with as much attention to detail as to abundance, it’s 400 pages of pure gastronomic joy. 

First impressions aside, the content of this book is also something to behold. Divided into Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, each part is further broken down into mini-chapters on seasonal produce. Asparagus for Spring, Beans for Summer, Game for Autumn, and so on. Because Jamie at Home is not simply a recipe book but a kitchen-garden manual of sorts, each mini-chapter contains a lot of information, in addition to the recipes. Everything from nutritional facts to an in-depth “How I Grow…” section, which gives instructions and tips on planting and harvesting the veg in question. Not very helpful to me, with my precisely zero square feet of outside space, but I can see how this would be immensely useful to someone who had the space and inclination to grow their own food. 

Now to the good stuff: the recipes. Almost everything in this book looks incredible, making it difficult to decide what to try first. The recipes are mainly British with a strong Italian slant, but Spanish, French and other flavours are also employed here. Obviously, there is a strong emphasis on local, seasonal ingredients, so the recipes that I’ve tried so far are mainly from the Autumn and Winter chapters. Among them, there have been some real winners- Butternut Squash Muffins with a Frosty Top (pg. 364) were so good I blogged about them on Kitchenist, English Onion Soup with Sage and Cheddar (pg. 146) was silky and flavourful, and Pappardelle with Slow-Braised Leeks and Crispy Porcini Pangattato (pg. 333) has become a real staple in my house. In the spirit of eating seasonally, I am waiting until warmer weather brings the ingredients I need to make some of the other dishes I’ve been eyeing, including Incredible Smashed Peas and Fava Beans on Toast (pg. 156) and Warm Strawberries with Pimm’s and Vanilla Ice Cream (pg. 201)

Of course with the good often comes the bad, and there is no exception here. Some recipes I tried fell short of my expectations; the enticing Italian Bread and Cabbage Soup with Sage Butter (pg. 388) delivered a slimy, salty disappointment, and my boyfriend announced that Jamie’s recipe for Calzone (pg. 180) tasted like “farm”, and not in a good way. (I had no idea what he was talking about at first, but as I ate on, I had to agree, and the calzone was left unfinished. Perhaps I’m just incredibly impressionable?)

It’s also all a bit “meaty” for my liking. Besides that actual meat, poultry and game recipes, Jamie always seems to be adding meat to things that would otherwise make lovely vegetarian dishes. A few slices of proscuitto here, some chopped pancetta there, some anchovy fillets in this sauce- the man just can’t help himself. While I really don’t have a problem with this in theory (I simply leave out the offending ingredient), I find it strange that a book which presents itself as being all about vegetables contains so few truly vegetarian recipes. Of course, if you aren’t vegetarian, this won’t matter at all to you- more meaty bang for your buck, right? 

In all likelihood, however, I won’t be letting a few failed recipes turn me off. Now that I’ve dived in, Jamie’s beautiful books and down-to-earth writing style have made an impression on me, and I’m looking forward to reviewing more of his books in the future.

As for Jamie at Home, I’ll be working my way through it as the seasons change, hoping for more hits than misses. The gardening sections will certainly be helpful if there is a backyard somewhere in my future, meaning that for now at least, this book is a keeper. 

Mark needs to stay in the kitchen, because quite frankly, I wouldn’t know what to do without him. (If you’re interested, the other two are Jamie at Home and Nigella Express, but they’re just there because they match the decor.)

How to Cook Everything Vegetarian is, at its simplest, an amended version of Mark’s bestselling and exhaustive How to Cook Everything. The chapters focusing on meat have been removed, and those about vegetarian staples like grains, legumes, and alternative proteins have been expanded on. As he explains in the introduction, Mark himself isn’t a vegetarian, but encourages a low-meat diet as one that is healthier for both Americans and the planet. The book seems to be aimed toward people who are looking to eat less meat for these reasons, but works equally well for strict vegetarians and vegans.

The 996-page, 4.4 lb book (I weighed it with my kitchen scale) is roughly divided into two parts. The introductory chapters cover the basics of ingredients, equipment and techniques. Mark discusses the complications of shopping for ingredients (even touching on the battle of organic vs. local), shares with us his list of pantry essentials, and goes into detail about choosing and using a variety of kitchen tools. Everything from what to look for in a good soy sauce, to proper knife skills, to how to season a cast iron pan is covered.

The second part of the book is given over to more specific information on ingredients. 11 chapters of information, starting with Salads and progressing through Soups, Vegetables, High-Protein Foods and Breads, to name just a few. Almost any type of ingredient you can think of is mentioned here, as well as information on how best to prepare it, appropriate substitutions, and of course a comprehensive collection of recipes. Recipes that range from absurdly basic (Cheese Omelet, pg. 172) to mouthwatering (Paella with Oranges, Olives and Saffron, pg. 523) to faintly ridiculous (Homemade Tofu, pg. 656). Most recipes are followed by several variations on the basic formula, with simple ways to change the flavour with different seasonings. Many also feature adjustments to make them vegan, if they aren’t already.

It is possibly for this reason that Bittman is a particularly polarizing food writer. Some find his style of providing a basic formula and umpteen variations unnecessary and annoying. Why not just give us one good recipe? they think. While I agree that six variations on Chickpea Fondue (pg. 615), might be pushing it just a little (in fact, chickpea fondue itself might be pushing it), I really like this style. It helps, I think, not to think of this book as a collection of prescribed recipes, but as a tool in learning to cook. Understanding how to combine flavours and adapt techniques is just as important as the ability to follow steps in a recipe, and besides, encouraging creative thought in the kitchen is rarely a bad thing.

It’s my belief that food writing (good food writing, at least), is divided into two types: the kind you read in the kitchen while preparing a meal, and the kind you read in bed (or the bath, or curled up on the couch, or whatever). Mark is definitely a purveyor of the former. His writing style is simple and straightforward, what I think of as a man’s food writer. He doesn’t wax poetic about the green of a savoy cabbage or the aroma of freshly baked bread, but he doesn’t need to: it isn’t his style, and his love of good food comes through all the same. Blessedly unpretentious, he seems aware of time and budget constraints, and unlike with some other writers, you have no problem thinking of him as an actual person.

Similarly, the look of How to Cook Everything Vegetarian is pared-down and modern. Perhaps predictably, the cover is green, as are the recipe titles, charts and lists inside the book. The two columns of text per page are printed with modern typefaces and simple graphic touches. There are no photos, but techniques (forming dumplings, rolling sushi) are illustrated textbook-style. Not the most beautiful cookbook you’ll come across, but the aesthetic suits the content and encyclopedia-like feel of the book.

Where I think this book could do more is in the Desserts chapter. The introduction makes the point that vegetarians usually eat the same desserts as omnivores, and bizarrely uses this as reason not to include these dishes, instead focusing on recipes which “contain more whole grains, natural sweeteners… [and] unexpected ingredients like vegetables and herbs”. Well, I don’t know about you, but I became a vegetarian because I wanted to stop eating meat, not cheesecake. Not that the desserts in the book don’t seem delicious (many do), just that they aren’t exactly what I’m looking for in a book that presents itself as a comprehensive guide to cooking, vegetarian or otherwise. I mean, the section on Brownies doesn’t even contain a recipe for a basic chocolate version.

All in all, though, How to Cook Everything Vegetarian is a great cookbook. Its comprehensive nature makes it a great buy for anyone just beginning to find their way around a kitchen. I think it would be a perfect choice for a young vegetarian going off to university or moving into their first apartment, for example. But more experienced cooks shouldn’t be quick to write it off; there are hundreds of great ideas in here, particularly for those looking to adopt healthier and more eco-friendly eating habits. Personally, I found this book an invaluable resource during my first year as a vegetarian, and rarely do I open it without being struck by the sudden urge to cook something new. So, for the foreseeable future at least, How to Cook Everything Vegetarian will remain at home in my kitchen.