THE SCARLET PUMPERNICKEL

Good Books For Cooks

by Fred Thomas

Tastier Than Ever

This Month's Recipe: Ginger Scallops

THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL COOK BOOK was published in 1896 by one of the school's instructors, Fannie Merritt Farmer, and by 1990 had gone through a dozen iterations. The last two versions of the book, commonly known as The Fannie Farmer Cookbook, have been edited and added to by no-nonsense cook Marion Cunningham. The most recent edition of the book, the 13th, issued in 1996, shows that Ms. Cunningham wasn't just cutting down the fat content (sigh) and cleaning up hundred-year-old text for Knopf. Indeed, Cunningham's effort is Herculean: 325 new recipes and three new chapters.

Though the book has survived the last hundred years to reflect the current vernacular in cooking, the thrust of the book hasn't changed: The Fannie Farmer Cookbook is still an instructional work, a comfortable reader for the person new to the kitchen and its toys.

Cunningham anticipates the questions from the novice home cook and answers them in a preamble to each chapter. A few questions she deftly answers, slaying old-cooks' tales in the process: How do I know if the turkey is done? Don't bother with "shaking hands" with the leg to see if it moves freely in the socket, she warns. Dark meat may be overdone while the breast still needs further roasting. Check the juices from a cut deep into the bird; if they run clear without a tinge of pink, the bird is done. What makes a great hamburger? A chip of ice in the center of the raw burger keeps it rare and juicy during the cooking. Neat tip. And when -- and when not -- to use the microwave? One gets the impression that Cunningham finds the zap method as utilitarian as Julia Child found electric egg poachers two decades ago: worthless.

Sniffs Cunningham:

"Cooking in a microwave oven lacks the personal involvement that is the pleasure of cooking in the conventional way. I don't think using a microwave oven encourages people to enjoy cooking and to expand their abilities by trying new recipes and techniques."

Still, the book's mission as teacher does not allow, alas, for easy dismissal of the microwave, and Cunningham offers up 50 new recipes that work in that contraption, including bananas in caramel sauce, fish chowder, and peanut brittle. Sure, those same age-old plats can be made without the damnable nuke, and her inclusion, one suspects, is strictly in deference to American demography: some 80 percent of all households have a microwave. (Isn't most of the fun of peanut brittle spreading it out over the countertop to let it harden?)

If four out of five homes have a microwave, then nine out of ten homes have some sort of barbecue arrangement, and Ms. Cunningham serves forth a new chapter on open-flame cooking, again prefaced with her primer. One admonition, another bit of urban barbecue lore hitting the floor: "Disregard the prohibition against turning steaks and burgers more than once on the grill. They actually retain their juices better if turned 4 or 5 times." Tackling barbecue is a ticklish task and Cunningham's advice may raise an "Oh, really?" eyebrow among some backyard Weber warriors. Still, her take on outdoor cooking goes beyond the men-only domain, always remembering the Fannie Farmer mission of explain, explain and explain some more. Her grilled Ginger Scallops is a dish I've put up for years with certain success (though I add snow pea pods; blanch for one minute before adding to the grill).

Fannie Farmer is an excellent reader, as well, with Cunningham's careful -- and at times chauvinistic -- thoughts on a wide variety of kitchen matters. As historical reference, the book is lovely; the editors flag old recipes with an orange asterisk and printing the names of new recipes in orange, too. Vegetarian dishes, as well as foods zapped, are also marked, which means that if you think that the only thing that can improve a Caesar salad is, say, a blood-rare porterhouse, then you can happily skip dishes with the veggie marking, which appears to be an image of a leek as drawn by Bernini in the 16th Century.

What the reader comes away with is a zeal for the act of cooking, its artistry, the act itself is as satisfying as the end result, a notion lost on many. This 874-page book shows that there is, in fact, joy in cooking.

Books reviewed in The Scarlet Pumpernickel may be purchased
at a discount on the Books For Cooks aisle at The Bookstall.

Fred Thomas has been a writer and editor for more than two decades, as a reporter for the St. Petersburg Times, as tabloid editor at The Tampa Tribune, as group editor for a chain of Florida magazines, and as founding editor of Southern Homes. Now at home on the beach in West Central Florida, he specializes in writing about food and architecture. He knows the secret of perfect French fries.