Back in January, when I first started this project to revive the Cookbook of the Day feature, one of the very first books I featured was the Farmhouse Cookbook, by Susan Herrmann Loomis. I had picked it up at a thrift store and fallen in love with the way that the author had captured local, fresh, direct-from-the-farm cooking. Commenters on that post mentioned that she had written other cookbooks and that Loomis also had her own cooking school in France. Intrigued, I started looking around for copies of her other work, picking up the Italian Farmhouse Cookbook (surely to be featured here someday) and her memoir, On Rue Tatin.

It's On Rue Tatin that I want to spotlight here today. It took me several months after buying my copy before I actually found the time to read it, but once I started I became totally engrossed. It combines many of my favorite things: stories of exploring new places, old houses and the challenges of making them livable and lots and lots of food and cooking. Each chapter is followed by three or four or five recipes that were previously mentioned in the text. Reading them is nearly as good as reading the rest of the book, as she always includes a description of where the recipe came from and the situations during which her family has eaten that meal.

As someone who lives in a modern apartment building, in the middle of a big city, where farmers markets don't start until May, and the clerks at the corner convenience market are surly and decidedly unhelpful, I loved the opportunity for interior travel that reading this book allowed me. If you long to exist in a food world different from the one you know, this book will give you a chance to do that, even if it's only for a brief while.

Last week, when I visited the Kitchen Arts and Letters bookstore (I do intend to actually write about that amazing store and post some pictures I took while there), I came across a cookbook unlike any other I've ever seen (and that's saying a lot, as I've been reading cookbooks for fun since I was 7). Written, photographed and designed by British artist/writer/designer/cook Jake Tilson, A Tale of 12 Kitchens it is as much a life history through food/pictures/recipes as it is a cookbook. It starts at the point when Tilson was born and his parents were living in a converted Victorian dairy shop. It moves through his childhood, his memories of the nightly dinner parties his parents hosted and then to his years traveling, marriage and eating his way through New York.

All through the book, keeping step with the prose are lots of images and appealing design choices. There are reproductions of pages from his mother's recipe notebooks, photos of shops and restaurants that were instrumental to his cookery journey and scraps of flotsam from his personal food history. I haven't cooked from this book yet, but having already been touched by the amount of passion and affection with which this book was created, I hazard a guess that the food will also be wonderful.

This is the only book that I've featured where I want to encourage you to go and check out the related website. Tilson and his web designers (although he may have just done it himself) have put a lot of energy into creating an appealing and interesting site. I especially like the fact that you can see a generous selection of images from inside the book.

If you've been paying any attention to the cookbooks I've been featuring here, you may have noticed that I have something of a weakness for memoirs or collections of essays that revolve around food and offer some of the recipes that are mentioned in the writing. Last Friday, while I was up in New York, I made a stop at Kitchen Arts and Letters (a bookstore devoted exclusively to writing about food and wine). In addition to browsing the many shelves of cookbooks, I spent some time in the essay/memoir section. That's where I discovered Bonny Wolf's Talking with My Mouth Full.

I don't know how I've missed this book until now, being that I typically haunt the food section at my local Barnes and Noble. However, I am excessively grateful to have discovered it, as it is filled with wonderful essays about things ranging from the history of the Bundt pan (reading that section made me want to leap up and start baking) to An Ode to Toast (because who doesn't like toast?). If you are looking for a book that deals with food and has the ability to make you hungry but yet totally satisfied, look no further. And now, I'm off to bake a Bundt cake.