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With a combination of extensive references to other food writing and the sympathy to the passionate amateur cook and their struggles, I recommend An Everlasting Meal: Cooking with Economy and Grace by Tamar Adler as one of the best introductions to food writing that I can imagine.

Simply looking up the other authors Adler references would provide an extensive list of many names in food writing. Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin joins Edna Lewis and Harold McGee. One classic, M.F.K. Fisher’s How to Cook a Wolf even serves as an explicitly acknowledged model for the text. That might, in fact, be the best food book to read following this one. Unless, of course, you get pulled away by The Supper of the Lamb by Robert Farrar Capon, also referenced extensively. All references in this book come with at least a little bit of contextual information. If you decide you want more food writing, you are sure to find some next reads in the text.

Yet I would not just recommend a book for what it references. An Everlasting Meal stands out because of the thoughtfulness with which Adler addresses the needs of the home cook. A thread of developing your own personal rhythms in the kitchen runs through the book. You can cook a big batch of vegetables once during the week and change how you use them later. Or you can start a habit of making meat last multiple meals.

This theme stands even when you and the author differ in your habits. Baking forms a large part of my personal kitchen rhythm, while the author does not bake much. I also prefer many of my vegetables steamed rather than boiled, in further difference from the author. Adler emphasizes that a home cook does not need to cook like they do and Chez Panisse. So, too, do you and I also not need to cook like anyone else. The spirit of the book, in fact, entirely lends itself to working with your preferences, your schedule, and the ingredients in your kitchen.

Plenty of other advice fills the pages as well. Adler provides insight on everything from how to label the miscellany in your fridge to remembering to trust your senses and judgment rather than the clock on your stove. My favorite piece of wisdom in the book relates to false economy. Do not act like the author and buy cheap blenders and wonder why they break so fast.

As the subtitle suggests, a great many of the practices and rhythms in the book focus on economical cooking. Yes, Adler does recommend buying more expensive meats and cheeses and oils, and that does drive food costs up some. But a lot of the advice in the book centers around making those expensive ingredients go as far as they can.

After reading the book the first time, I have personally started using leftover ingredients more effectively. I make herby oils with leftover herbs, and I make plans for what to do with my stale bread rather than shoving it in the freezer and ignoring it. My cooking now shows more economy and grace. My next experiment will be fish stock, the strongest example I can find in the text of getting the best food for the least money. Adler writes across pages that “there may be nothing more elegant or subtle than a minimally made one” but it is also “easy to make and free.” My kitchen rhythms include little fish at the moment, but I have a plan for the next time they do.

Every time I reread the book, something new comes to my attention. I took forever to write this review, in fact, because I kept on rereading the book for pleasure rather than taking notes on it. Finally, when I did start to compile my notes, I realized what I missed on previous reads. Not only is An Everlasting Meal a great introduction to reading food writing, it serves in my case as a catalyst to start writing in the genre, an introduction to food writing in a different sense.