The 7 Best Cookbooks of 2021

If, like me, you've succumbed to the siren call of Yotam Ottolenghi's cookbooks over the past decade, then, like me, you might have ended up with a lot of exotic-to-you ingredients that were new to your spice drawer. Thanks to Ottolenghi and other authors, I've got dried shrimp and dried lime, kombu and bonito flakes, sumac and schmaltz, and well, you get the picture. With all of these ingredients—staples to some, exotic to me—I feel like I'm always two or three good recipes from incorporating them into my regular mix.

In her new cookbook, McKenzie catalogs 58 ingredients like these from around the world and gives them their due, then provides anywhere between one and a couple dozen recipes to help you spread your wings and make them on the regular. (Thanks to the good folks at Eat Your Books for the tip on this one!)

There's a peculiar, near-academic sameness to some of Phaidon's cookbooks, yet Palestinian food and travel writer Reem Kassis' new book somehow fits the mold and pops right out of it. Really though, she had me make a rice-stuffed cabbage pie, which takes a lot of the labor and none of the flavor out of stuffed cabbage. Simply layering the cabbage and the other ingredients into a pie dish, then pouring stock over the top, the rice cooks in the oven, and the whole thing takes much less time and effort than traditional stuffed cabbage.

Arabesque is also a contemporary book, with plenty of vegan and vegetarian offerings, including a kubbeh niyeh made with bulgur, walnuts, and pomegranate molasses. Kassis also offers quick-to-cook dishes and recipes with five ingredients or less. Mostly, in this pandemicky time when travel is restricted or difficult, this book is a food tour through the Arab world with an expert guide.

I did not start the year thinking I'd finish it by recommending not one but two books on Japanese cocktails, both created by Japanese-born bartenders with bars in the US, but we're all luckier for it.

First, Masahiro Urushido and Michael Anstendig's Art of the Cocktail is a balance between fun and creativity—a very specific evocation of a night out, even if the Omicron variant keeps us from visiting Urushido's New York City bar, Katana Kitten. The book ranges from a truffle old-fashioned with porcini syrup to a boilermaker composed of a chilly can of Sapporo and a shot of Suntory Toki whisky, to a Crown Heights, Urushido's spin on a Manhattan featuring unaged (clear) corn whisky, genever, Suze, and yuzu bitters. We might not feel comfortable venturing to NYC right now, but flipping through the pages feels like a bit of self-care in book form.

Pair the fun of The Art with the crafted beauty of The Way of The Cocktail, Julia Momosé's ode to the drinks of Japan. Working with writer Emma Janzen, along with photographer Kevin Miyazaki and illustrator Yuko Shimizu, they have created a poetic work that blends technique, museum-worthy beauty, and an ode to the seasons.

At her Chicago bar, Kumiko, the Momosé Manhattan hews closer to the classic than Katana Kitten's version; hers using a rye whiskey, yet grabbing a bit of sweet and bitterness from Pineau des Charentes and Bràulio amaro. The most beautiful drink in the book might be the Delicate Refusal, a liquid metaphor for a cherry tree where a salted flower blossom known as a shiozakura blooms in the glass as the cocktail is poured over it.

This "Comic Book Cookbook" looks like it's for kids, but anyone who picks it up will be impressed at how fantastic it is. As someone who spent a lot of time with it for a forthcoming review, I came to love the way it took something potentially difficult like the artful folds of xiaolongbao (soup dumplings) and turned it into something fun.

There's a bit of idiot chatter coming from chefs about recipes being dead in the time of the smart kitchen, but chef Hugh Amano's recipes and Sarah Becan's illustrations create a space where learning is perhaps easier that it is in a regular recipe. As I made their dumplings from around the world—mostly Asia—my confidence grew and I had fun. Then, after every session, I broke out the chopsticks and I had dinner.