Tasty cookbooks for everyone

Our cookbook selection this time around offers a varied bunch of books. Longing to indulge? "Big Fat Cookies" offers plenty of chubby sweet treats (if you can not take the title personally). Want to eat healthy?  "Vegetarian Suppers from Deborah Madison's Kitchen" made our meat-loving reviewer say "I love tofu."

Some books bring exotic cuisines home. "La Cocina de Mama" presents a simple yet irresistible concept: Polling great Spanish chefs for their own mothers' treasured recipes. Yet not every concept worked. We were disappointed with some books, including a book about gourmet burgers that had our reviewer craving a simple, basic American beef burger.

That said, we hope you find something tasty in this cookbook roundup. And save us the leftovers.

Cookie monsters

Chronicle Books

Do you ever wonder about the names of certain restaurants? Doesn't "Blimpie" make you think you shouldn't eat at that sandwich chain if you care at all about your weight? Did that name really test well with consumers? Is there a whole audience out there just longing to gain weight?

The cookbook "Big Fat Cookies" (by Elinor Klivans, Chronicle, $18) would seem to have the same attached baggage. But try not to think about the name and its implied calorie count — the cookie recipes within are simple and delicious. I thought the fudge-filled chocolate chip cookies on the cover looked over the top, but a friend who wandered into the kitchen moaned "Why aren't you making THOSE?" (The other cookie on the cover, peppermint patties, mix a fudgy but dry chocolate cookie with lightly mint-spiked filling.)

Sizing the cookies was a bit of a crap shoot. They're intended to be large, but we thought the lemon-ginger cookie sandwiches worked better at a smaller, more Oreo-esque, size. (The cookies, utilizing ground toasted almonds and a delightfully sweet and light lemon filling, were a hit at any size.) I attempted to follow Klivan's size instructions for the peppermint patties, but somehow only got 6 cookies out of a recipe that supposedly makes 9.

The elegant butterscotch marble blondie drops didn't come out as art-gallery perfect as in the book, but their crisp butterscotchy flavor had a co-worker clamoring for the recipe. Super S'more crisps combine those favorite campground ingredients — chocolate, marshmallow, and graham — for a bumpy, unusual treat. Least satisfying: The maple cranberry oatmeal cookies were a bit flavorless.

Cookies are rarely difficult to make, and after a while, cookie recipe books tend to run together. Yet Klivans' stands out for exactly the reason her title states — the cookies are hefty handfuls, more a dessert than a snack. Just try not to think about the calories.    —Gael Fashingbauer Cooper

You've got the look

Simon & Schuster

Perhaps this is unfair to a woman who may be a talented chef, but the first — really the only — thing you notice about Giada De Laurentiis’ first book, “Everyday Italian” (Clarkson Potter, $30), is her model-quality looks, displayed on every spare inch of paper. Let’s call it the Nigella Lawson problem, after another well-built chef whose looks vie with her recipes for attention.

The dust cover of “Everyday Italian” is dominated by a candid of Giada (granddaughter of film mogul Dino De Laurentiis) snapping asparagus in a tight, cleavage-revealing black shirt. Flip inside: Here’s Giada in the same shirt, wantonly leaning over as she whips a bowl of cream; there’s Giada taking a sultry taste of sauce.  This book contains more pouting candids than a copy of Vogue.

Her food?  It’s exactly as the title promises: basic Italian fare, slightly biased toward the southern end of the boot, presumably meant to accompany the Roman-born Giada’s Food Network series.  Some are examples of elegant simplicity; others, while not failures, are felled by curious oversights.  Under no twist of imagination should four pounds of sautéed broccoli rabe be rationed a stingy three garlic cloves. And the book is curiously absent a foolproof pizza dough recipe De Laurentiis previously published in Food and Wine.

But food isn’t what’s being sold here. I’m not sure who the audience for all these glamour shots is supposed to be, but “Everyday Italian” wraps some pretty rote recipes around a lot of cheesecake. (Photographic cheesecake, that is.)

I’m sure Giada’s a charming woman, and she may well be a talented, innovative chef. But none of that was discernable here. I prefer to keep my food lust separate from other desires, at least in the pages of a cookbook.     —Jon Bonné

From a Spanish home kitchen
It’s a hopeful sign when a cookbook that promises recipes from the “hottest chefs” actually subordinates celebrity in favor of good food.

For “La Cocina de Mamá” (Broadway Books, $29,95), Penelope Casas polled some of Spain’s biggest names, such as lauded culinary scientist Ferran Adrià and Basque wonder Juan Mari Arzak.  Casas, an expert in Spanish cuisine, presents a simple concept: great Iberian chefs passing along their mothers’ treasured recipes. The result is a nearly flawless compilation of Spanish home cooking that’s at once stripped of pretense and yet relentlessly innovative.

Even the simplest preparations translated into clear, focused flavors. The cazuela de boquerones Mediterraneos — a layered dish of white fish, tomatoes and bread crumbs — was savory without losing its subtle fish flavor. A greens and potato tart, sort of a baked tortilla Española without so much egg, was downright addictive, even if we were skeptical about the inclusion of romaine lettuce.  A Malaga-style white gazpacho was one of the best I’ve ever had, despite taking just 20 minutes to prepare (though several hours to develop flavors).

I couldn’t find a weak recipe; each was clearly explained and briefly prefaced — with only passing nods to the chefs’ fame.  The key to success might be that these recipes were largely developed in home kitchens, for feeding hungry families. Ironically, Adrià’s mother contributes one of the simplest recipes: an artichoke omelet with just five ingredients, a sign that even the most dazzling kitchen wizards rely on humble roots.

A worthwhile cookbook should prove its utility for years to come, and given the long list of recipes I’m still eager to try from “Cocina,” it’s safe to say Casas has more than achieved that goal.    —J.B.

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