Cookbooks

I just got something wonderful in the mail: a cookbook about Gulf Coast Kitchen recipes.

I love cookbooks. I may have an addiction to them. I don't think I have that many, but I've noticed that many of my friends have a few: maybe five or ten. I have about sixty in my kitchen and more in storage that simply won't fit.

My addiction is hereditary. My mother loves cookbooks as well. Each year she gives us a brand spanking new cookbook signed by the author. But she has a lot of her own. One time I counted how many she had in one room. I think I stopped at a thousand. She converted a wall in my sister's room for shelving more cookbooks as well. Don't tell my father, but I also know that she has them tucked in crannies around the house: under the hutch, for example. She has so many books that sometimes they are piled, almost like furniture, around the house. It's not a messy house, but there is not a room without a book.

The cool thing about my addiction is that friends benefit from what I make them, so that may be why I don't hear to much smack about them.