The Silver Palate Cookbook

I think of this as "the quintessentially 80s cookbook," which it really is, and all the more charming for it.  The 80s were a more innocent time, culinarily speaking, here in the States.  America was just getting used to the idea of haute cuisine.  Couple this with the unbridled financial enthusiasm of the Reagan era, and the aspirational Gordon Gekko culture of black lacquer furniture and Nagel prints, and what you end up with is a lot of A) quiche, and B) pesto.  Even the name of the cookbook seems to embody the 80s; "silver palate," which I guess is implying the fanciest and most discriminating taste in recipes.

In fact, the original Silver Palate was a gourmet food store, which offered exciting new imports like endive and brie.  In 1982 the store's owners, Sheila Lukins and Julee Rosso Miller, decided to publish their own cookbook.  Their plan was to collect recipes which were simple and required little in the way of specialized equipment, but which helped American cooks make good use of these fancy new ingredients.  

Twenty five years later the book is still in print.  This stands as a testimony to the simplicity of its recipes, the outstanding results, and the interesting choices provided.  I frequently consult my ancient copy of The Silver Palate Cookbook when trying to decide what to cook.  I like the fact that the recipes push the boundaries of "regular food" a little bit, but not too far.  Nothing in this cookbook is TOO crazy, just crazy enough to nudge the unadventurous (like myself) slightly out of their comfort zones.

Their recipe for Pasta Primavera Gregory is an excellent example of this.  (This recipe is available on the Amazon website, as an adjunct to the cookbook.)  Pasta primavera was considered cutting edge in 1982, and part of our nation's sudden fascination with northern Italy, its design aesthetic and cuisine.  

The recipe itself calls for a number of ingredients that I think I might have had difficulty obtaining in the 80s, but which have since become commonplace.  In particular, I recall that fresh herbs weren't readily available in grocery stores until the 1990s, but I could be wrong.  And I'm pretty sure I had never even heard of prosciutto until at least 1989.

However, despite these "exotic" ingredients, the first thing the recipe says is, "Feel free to substitute."  This is the kind of advice that seems obvious and redundant to experienced cooks.  Not so much to those of us who lack confidence and skill.  The suggestion to use whatever you can plausibly substitute is reassuring.

To further deconstruct the recipe, it has only four steps, minimal prep work, and requires only a few commonplace kitchen items like a pot for boiling pasta and a colander.  The instructions are simple and clear, and it avoids any jargon.  For example, the second step could simply say "Blanch the peas," and I have seen recipes which do this.  But the Silver Palate ladies spell it out for us, and we are grateful to them for it.

Although it is certainly reminiscent of the era in which it was first created, The Silver Palate Cookbook is definitely a timeless addition to any cookbook collection.