Why single-ingredient cookbooks hold a special place in my kitchen

One of my absolute favorite cookbook series of all time is the Short Stack collection of books, which were all the rage in the mid-2010s. I would hurriedly trek around New York City on my lunch breaks, going into small, indie bookshops which stocked the tiny cookbooks, buying as many as I could, collecting them like someone might collect rare baseball cards, increasing my collection more and more as time went on.

On one of my birthdays a few years. back, a few lovely, generous colleagues actually purchased me a stack of them. I loved the books: hand-sewed binding, bright colors, great recipes and individual, singularly-focused, the books were a perfect, pamphlet-sized exploration of these ingredients.

From plums and prosciutto to maple syrup and rhubarb, the books would highlight everything about each ingredient, present recipes for both sweet and savory dishes, as well as appetizers, desserts, sides and drinks. Many of my favorite writers, chefs and recipe developers would contribute — like Alison Roman and Sara Jenkins — essentially writing a love letter to one of their favorite ingredients. I thought the whole concept was lovely. The company even released a full-length cookbook in 2016, which a kind "Secret Santa" purchased for me at a work holiday gathering that year.

At some point, I even reached out to the founder to express my adoration. In the summer of 2017, I also tried to pitch my own edition: Fennel. I never heard back, though and soon after, the company seemed to have essentially gone defunct. There have been no updates to the Instagram account since June of 2018 and I don't believe the website is functioning any longer.

Want more great food writing and recipes? Subscribe to Salon Food's newsletter, The Bite.

While Short Stack may be no more, my deep interest and satisfaction in the reading, collecting and cooking from these books helped me realize something: I love a singularly-focused, ingredient-specific cookbook.

Unfortunately, these cookbooks are pretty rare and far between; although, I did just learn of a stunning, singularly mussel-focused cookbook by Sergio Herman, which I'm immensely excited to explore.

I think one reason I love the notion of a single-ingredient focus — which I've tried to do in some of my own food writing — is that it accentuates the point that there is much to investigate and enjoy about one ingredient. You may love cauliflower, but if you only cook it one way and rarely ever veer away form that variation, then are you really enjoying cauliflower to the fullest?

I have also always loved using a single ingredient in multiple ways in one dish, which is something often seen in many restaurants (or even on TV in shows like "Top Chef.") To keep with the cauliflower motif: why not puree, pickle, roast and deep-fry (or air fry?) different parts of the cauliflower and compose a dish strictly of this one ingredient? Or, conversely, try it in an unusual or novel way: a cauliflower semifreddo, for example?

Ingredients have so much to give us: Don't shortchange them. Especially with the recent explosion of food insecurity this year and the heightened price of foods in general, it's silly to dispose of feta brine, pickle juice or broccoli stems. These foods are flavorful, edible and useful. Reducing food waste can sometimes take some ingenuity and creativity, but it can also be very simple, too.

Further delving into our favorite ingredients — no matter if they're proteins, cheeses, spices, seasonings, vegetables or herbs — is something that the best cookbooks helps us to do. While all cookbooks are lovely and worthwhile, I maintain a special affinity for those that help us honor and celebrate one particular, sometimes humble ingredient. These ingredients have carried us through so many family dinners, hurried weeknight meals, holiday feasts and restaurant meals — don't they at least deserve a "love letter" in the form of a cookbook, no matter how small? I'd like to think so.

Currently, my Short Stack books are arranged — in order — in one of my bookshelves, where they safely reside, aside from when I pull one out to reference a recipe (I've made the lemonade from Libbie Summers's "Brown Sugar" edition a truly innumerable amount of times) or get a new idea for how to use goat cheese. So, thanks to Short Stack, for helping to help reframe my perception of cookbooks, of cooking and of ingredients. I hope one day I do get to write that fennel iteration.