Sometimes it’s pretty clear when a book is probably just fine, but maybe not for you, or at least you right now. Good Things by Samin Nosrat has some good things going for it. It’s got a lot of parts where there ar basically sets of theme and variation on a recipe or ingredient which can be nice when you’ve got a lot of something but don’t want to get bored. The premise of focusing on kind of simple pleasures is also something I can get behind. There’s some focus on seasonality as well as some attention to various basic techniques. Both perfectly fine.
The challenge comes in when all of these elements together lead to some feeling of disorganization or disconnect. Some recipes are presented in narrative paragraph form, while others follow the generally standard modern format of list of ingredients, then instructions either numbered, paragraphed by step, or both. For example, the potato section (the fall and winter lead in the seasonal stuff chapter (named “Good Things Come to Thoe who Wait”) starts with some actually interesting information about the potato, such as they are sweetest when first harvested (so late summer, into fall). Then a paragraph on a warm potato salad recipe, and then another on skillet gratin [all on the same page]. After 2 pages of paragraph recipes on potatoes, there’s a 2-page spread on citrus salad (which actually sounds pretty good, there’s multiple proposed recipes, mostly lists of combos of “see page X, Y, and Z’ and put that together), then back to the paragraph recipes and sweet potatoes. Then there’s a flow-chart choose your own adventure recipe. The chicken section which follows start off the same way, but then turns into a handful of traditional form recipes.
Most of the recipes look pretty do-able, and there’s still the chef-y attention to technique present in Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, but sometimes the look and description don’t’ quite match what you get. I’d expect something called Honey Oat Dinner Rolls to be on the sweeter side, both from the title and amount of honey involved. They’re actually kind of salty. Not in a bad way, but definitely not honey-forward like I was expecting.
There’s also kind of a disconnect between the tone of the story-telling, like the relatable fear of what comes after the massive first publishing success, but then there’s the claim of “I am not a chef” and “I don’t think recipes are necessary”. Girl, you worked at Chez Panisse. You’ve published two massively popular cookbooks, and have/had your own cooking show. I get that this is meant to be a focus on the good in simple personal favorites. Imposter syndrome and professional doubt? That’s totally fine and humanizing. Does it all together sort of contradict? Also, yes. You also have to admit that most people who are not chefs, and/or who don’t come from a long line of heritage generational cooking knowledge might actually need or prefer the recipes to learn from. Funny thing is, the seemingly random and contradictory elements here aren’t necessarily a problem. There’s plenty of stuff in here I’d like to try. It’s almost more personalizing in a way, but it’s also a little harder for me personally to get into.
