I adore this New Yorker article on one woman's love of cookbooks. She loses me a little near the end with the beef cheeks, but the beginning is wonderful.
"i read cookbooks. I am addicted to them. I keep a pile on the floor of my study in New York, knowing that if I manage to write a couple of decent pages I can treat myself to a $4.50 Chinese lunch special in the company of Richard Olney or Jasper White or Ruth Rogers and Rose Gray, thinking of all the succulent things I would cook for dinner if I didn’t have to go back to work in the afternoon."
(Thanks to Jon for the link!
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