Many years ago, a friend invited us to a party at someone else’s apartment. (That’s how long ago it was.) When we arrived, we discovered the invitation came with a price: the friend felt like he should own an apartment but he couldn’t afford that on his current salary. So he wanted our help figuring out how to make that happen; we should share our ideas.

After a moment, my husband kicked off the brainstorming, talking about how, when he was saving up to buy his place, he ate nothing but ramen for years to save money.

Our friend stopped him: that would impact his quality of life. Please only share ideas that would not impact his quality of life.

Hmmm. Someone mentioned that they noticed that, every time they went out together, the friend bought things on impulse at every store they went into: a few shirts at Banana Republic; a few khakis at The Gap; music. If he didn’t do that, he could put that money into savings for this dream apartment he wanted.

Nope. Quality of life issue again.

Had he considered taking a second jo – Nope. QOL.

Silence while we all thought, not sharing our thoughts.

I mentioned how good he was with computers, and teaching people how to use computers, and how good he was with the elderly, and how there were so many elderly who struggled with computers. If he started a side gig doing that, he could really clean – Nope. QOL.

Apparently his idea of tapping his friends for solutions wasn’t working. So we waited.

Finally someone asked what ideas he had been considering.

“Well, I’m a pretty good cook. I thought I could write a cookbook.”

After a long while where I tried to remember the last time he had cooked for us… “Well, I said. You could do that. You know, it’s interesting. It seems nowadays that the cookbooks that get published, that sell, are the ones that are written by celebrities, and by professional chefs with hot restaurants, and chefs with TV shows…”

Since he did not fall into any of these categories, I was roundly chastised for raining on his parade. I apologized for all my years of bookselling experience and shut up.

He did not end up writing this cookbook. (Or, as far as I know, any cookbook.)¹

I picked up this cookbook at a restaurant in Door County² where I had just dined with a different friend.³ It was a delicious dinner and I bought the cookbook sentimentally because it reminded me of that wonderful meal.

I haven’t cooked very much from this book because, being from Wisconsin, many of the recipes include meat or meat products (such as gelatin). However, it does contain a bunch of recipes that are vegetarian or vegan, such as Sage Corn Bread (mmmm), apricot pound cake with thyme glaze (I made a dozen or so one year and gifted them to colleagues for Christmas), Cranberry Cheesecake with Rosemary Crust⁴ (as good as it sounds), and Rice Pilaf with Cranberries and Hazelnuts. This last one has become a standard at family Thanksgivings – so delicious – and easy to make.

But it is hard for a cookbook to stay in print these days unless it is written by celebrities, or by professional chefs with hot restaurants, or chefs with TV shows. So you’re going to have to look for this one in a used bookstore.

In fact, I think you should go to Door County and look in the used bookstores there.

It’s particularly beautiful in the fall.

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1. I believe his mother bought him the apartment. Nice work if you can get it. ↩︎
2. I highly recommend Door County. It was even better before they got such good cell service. But it’s still great. ↩︎
3. A woman, who had saved up and put in extra hours so she could buy an apartment. ↩︎
4. Okay, okay! I didn’t actually bake this myself. My husband is the cheesecake expert in the house. And one cheesecake expert per house is enough. ↩︎