What to Read when you can’t Sleep
On February 15, 2021 by Speranza
A well meaning but spectacularly uncool Auntie of mine once bought me The Friendship Book of Francis Gay, for Christmas when I was a teenager. (And by the way, this is the only way anyone ever referred to this book: the title, then the author, all at once – but always together). This little book promised an “inspiring thought” for each day of the year and provided iconic yet unlikely photos such as a benevolent postman peddling down a laneway or a jocular milkman enjoying a quiet joke outside a thatched cottage.
Obviously, I privately made fun of this endlessly; I was fifteen. But what I did not share with my friends was that I did actually read it. And I am recalling how calming it was last thing at night to read around these pastoral scenes. I notice too that during this endless pandemic I am being drawn to more gentle reading, if only as a temporary diversion.
I recently decided to sample a Nancy Drew in the spirit of “middle-of-the-night” reading (and especially since my other bedside go-to was Ernest Becker’s Denial of Death) but the prose was bone dry and extremely dated. And when did Nancy’s dad get so weird? The whole flavour was not at all as I remembered.
I have therefore returned to cookbooks: the ones with amusing anecdotes, luscious photos and endless, tranquil descriptions of how best to cook eggs and why it even matters. (I’m looking at you, handsome Jacques Pepin). Laurie Colwin is a particular favourite of mine. Her stories are earthy, self-deprecating and often extremely funny. Why is she not better known as a writer? The recipes are sprinkled throughout almost as an afterthought and they’re always the sort you would be happy to receive from a trusted friend.
I do also love Nigel Slater, whose books are stout tomes of comfort and superb writing. Very down to earth and the best food descriptions, I admire his sheer British-ness as well as his honesty. (He often includes ‘cheat meals’ for just feeling lazy).
Rachel Roddy’s My Kitchen in Rome is feel-good, practical and confidential with really different, sound recipes. Certainly, the gorgeous photos of impossibly deep green produce and iridescent fish shimmering in a silver arc at the market can depress me deeply by daylight (how can she be living this amazing life!?) but at nighttime, the stories become soothing and often lead to plans for something with ground almonds and apricots in the upcoming week.
I also highly recommend Taste and epicurious if you are driven to go online during a sleepless night as it makes a welcome change from being lured into reading the news or compiling another list of things you may very likely not feel up to doing in the morning.
Strangely, as I am completing this post, my new book has arrived: 365 Zen: Daily Readings. I ordered this book after seeing a friend featuring snippets on Facebook. There is a thoughtful morsel for each day so I have now come full circle from The Friendship Book.
(Of Francis Gay).
Incidentally, 365 Zen, in direct contrast, has no pictures and certainly no farm hands waving from the fields in cloth caps. But that is okay.
I have my grannies Five Roses & Purity Flour cook books, it is calming to read that a low oven will take 30-40 seconds for your hand to get hot or a lump of good butter size of an egg for your biscuits is right amount.Like you have moved into the slower reading lane & have fallen for biographies again. Tiff is more readable right now than his haunting books.
Laurie Colwin is a particular hero of mine, (but you already knew that!) not only for her writings, but the recipes are the bomb. “Damp Gingerbread “ is the only gingerbread in this house!
And her scalloped potatoes always work out well too!
And don’t forget the ultimate “comfort” writer, Maeve Binchy….I would read that woman’s grocery list.
Yes! And what is wrong with so called “light” reading anyway? Marian Keyes! Jilly Cooper! Good writers one and all, I say!
I have a copy of Kate Aiken’s Canadian Cookbook to dip into … especially enjoy her “notes to brides”. The Friendship Book is one of my favourites too, especially old ones from the 1950s and 60s, which I occasionally find at a used book store. But my all-time favourite author for nights when I can’t sleep (which for me are fortunately very rare), or when I’m not feeling well, is Barbara Pym.
Speranza I gave my Mother-in-law The Friendship Book of Frances Gay every Christmas for years and years. Decades. I didn’t know how to stop. I don’t know if she ever tired of them. She would never say if she was. I gave her another gift as well.
This is too funny – my favourite part of this comment is “I gave her another gift as well.” Thank you so much, haha!
So this is me being the devils advocate for cookbooks. The bulk of mine (ours, but don’t tell Jinny) were purged with a mutual assault upon ‘stuff we don’t use anymore’ which was about 10 years ago. To the used bookstore went a few of the whole grain head bangers cooking tomes, such as Moosewood, a few Harrowsmith volumes and the classic, “The Enchanted Broccoli Forest”. I did you not, this did exist. What were we smoking before it all became legal? I did retain my copy of “The Joy of Cooking” as it was a gift from my grandmother, who inscribed it, and I still will dig out the recipe for leek and potato soup every so often. The reason that our cookbook cupboard slowing began to house single malt whiskey instead of cookbooks was that so many recipes could be found online, and with a tablet, in the kitchen, in the moment. These days my gurus of the palate reside in the likes of Andrew Rea, John Mitzewich, J. Kenji Lopez-Alt,and a few old vids by Mark Bittman. Why anyone would buy a cookbook these days is beyond me.
You are funny.
And is that *really* the reason that your “cookbook cupboard slowly began to house single malt whiskey?” Because others may try this now.