I'm a cookbook junkie but I never add them to my reading totals since I don't read straight through any of them. It's more of a "Oh look at that! What is it? Oh gosh that has my name on it. Kidneys? Eu! I like this but I'd use (ingredient) instead of lard." sort of a process. But my history with Bar Tartine is such that I really wanted to sit down and talk about it. Thus, a review of sorts.
Recently I went on a cookbook borrowing binge at my local library because there was a stack of cookbooks I thought I wanted, and because money is super duper tight right now, I thought "Well why not check them out first?" So I did just that, with an eye to whether I wanted to spend money I didn't have on a book that I might not really enjoy or get any use out of. This one was one of the stack and to be entirely honest, on first run through I was not sold. It looked awfully esoteric, in much the same way that my Ottolenghi cookbooks seemed at first. (I have never not had a case of buyer's remorse with Ottolenghi, and it has never not turned into adoration. I guess that's sort of a Meet Cute for cookbook buyers.)
I put Bar Tartine aside and went through the others fairly quickly, surprised at how many I now felt I could live without. But see, putting it aside rather than rejecting it outright told me something. It said that I needed to think about it, digest it as it were. I told The Housemate that I'd taken it off my wishlist, which I had, but by the next day it was back on because in my second reading, I got it, I got the magic.
Magic? You ask. Yup, there's something magical about cookery. It's not just that recipes are like spells that produce magical results, but that you can take bits and bobs of things and put them together with heat or cold or a hella big mixer, and get something that you want to feed to the people you love to show them you love them.
With a book like this, which is about techniques and ingredients as much as recipes, you can, in your mind, become the all-around cook, making your own cheese, sprouting seeds for salads and such, infusing oils and making your own vinegar from that bottle of wine you left on the counter for too long. You can dream large. Once I got the feel for what the authors were doing, I was hooked. I was ready to fill my dehydrator with all sorts of things, ready to pit cherries, pick herbs, and deliberately leave a bottle of wine on the counter so I could make vinegar.
I could probably go on and on about which recipes made me say, "Yes, please!" (Chilled apricot soup with fennel and noyaux) which ones made me say, "Uh... no." (Grilled tripe with paprika and fennel) and which ones I decided to keep an open mind about (Rye porridge with hazelnut custard, apricot, and flax.) But I won't do that because you don't really care, nor should you. What I say "YES!" to you may say "Oh hells no!" to, and vice versa. What I will tell you is this: The recipes show a good deal of inventiveness, a sense of adventure, and a deep thoughtfulness about the food itself.
The folks at Bar Tartine are committed to local sources and making much of their own stock of flavorings, condiments, etc. You'll probably note strong Scandinavian and Eastern European influences in the recipes, which I love, but YMMV, and that's okay. This cookbook has made me happy, and I've gone through it every day since it arrived, musing on the techniques, and poking at the recipes, thinking about how to make them my own, because that's what I do. I consider recipes to be nice suggestions. I did indeed buy it. I got it used and with a credit on my account, I got it delivered for a grand total of $0.39. I figured I deserved that much fun this month.