Fans pick 70 books like Drinking with the Valkyries

Twenty years old and still the Bible for me. It’s all here. I used to wonder why we did things in the kitchen in a certain way, but now I know. The author doesn’t flinch from the hard science and, besides explaining so many things, that enables him to explode a number of common kitchen myths (searing meat doesn’t seal in the juices) and provide lots of practical advice for the home kitchen.

Other supposedly food and science books have come and gone, but McGee remains my go-to source.

I thought I knew a fair bit about whisky until I read this book. The science is here–and how often do you see that in a book on spirits?–but as a means to an end: to make whisky more individual, more expressive of place. The bulk of the world's whisky is manufactured in anonymous, large plants such that the 'handmade' products of relatively small distilleries, epitomized in Scotland and Kentucky/Tennessee in the U.S.A., are cherished by enthusiasts.

Yet even with these, the major ingredients–cereals of different kinds, barley in the case of Scotch–are almost always grown and processed far away and bought on the commodities market. It doesn’t have to be like this. Revelatory and joyful are the author’s explorations and stories of trips to distilleries in the U.S. and the British Isles to chew the fat with like-minded pioneers.

I treasure this account of a wide-eyed American youth, over forty years ago now, visiting Europe for the first time and stumbling across beer that wasn’t American. Unlike what he had assumed all beer was like, this European beer (well, some of it) had character, pedigree, and flavor.

Even as a European, I continue to be stimulated by the author’s enthusiastic account of the unchanging classics he discovered and his pilgrimages to their wonderful breweries. He also realized that beer‒proper beer‒could hold its own on any dinner table. It was all a revelation to him; it changed his life, and it continues to inspire me.

I love the look and feel of this book. It’s a class act. The author (a disciple, incidentally, of Harold McGee) deconstructs a variety of popular foodstuffs and recipes so that with this new knowledge, even the amateur cook can strive for perfection. Well, strive. Perfection’s a long way off for me, but this glorious book inspires me to try.

This is a voyage of stories about wine from the old world and new world, some very amusing.

Nathalie travels to Burgundy to explore Pinot Noir, Champagne to learn about sparkling wine, California and Australia to learn about New World wine, and many more places. Through her exploration you’ll learn about the wine regions she visits and about wine tasting.

This book is written in a very easy and humorous style, as hinted at by the title. I loved this book for its unstuffy, friendly approach to wine. 

Hugh Johnson is one of the most famous, and certainly the best-selling, of all the world’s wine writers. This book was first published in 1989 and has held the field ever since. It’s a glorious sweep of the history of wine from the beginning to about thirty years ago, with masses of illustrations, which is one of the glories of the book. A new edition was published in 2020, which brings it up to the present, but it lacks maps and illustrations. On the other hand, he hints at what he thinks about scoring wines by numbers: he’s not keen, preferring sniffing and tasting and then using stars to indicate the quality. What, after all, is the perceived difference between a 91 wine and a 92? And why start at 50?

Gerald Asher is a wine writer who is celebrated for his range, his knowledge, his ability to see below the surface of things, and his compelling writing style. This book of essays about wine is one of my favourites, ranging as it does from wines with food, in which he goes in unexpected directions, to whether or not and how to decant wines, to drinking wine in Greece surrounded by the gods, to wines from Portugal and California and Oregon and Italy and France. He takes me to places I’ve never been and to wines I’ve never drunk, all with no effort on my part. Along the way, I learn and I enjoy. What a pleasurable book!

I loved this book because it reads like a thriller but contains little-known wine history. Dinkelspiel follows the history of one of California’s early wine families, the Hellmans, when the California wine industry was located around Los Angeles.

She also documents a wild scandal of wine fraud and arson in the early twenty-first century by following a precious bottle of nineteenth-century wine from their legendary but forgotten Rancho Cucamonga vineyard. I really admire this book because it balances passion and delight in wine with a frank description of the abuses that have dogged the wine industry for centuries.  

I write about beer, cider, spirits, and cocktails. In fact, I'll write about almost anything that will get you drunk, plus a few liquids that won't, but I don't write about wine. That's my off-duty drink, the one side of booze I don't need to know about beyond asking myself whether I want more of the wine in my glass.

So you could say that for me all wine is from another galaxy. It can seem too big, the world of wine. Too deep. Too stuffy. This book makes it fun again, makes it fresh and exciting. I almost want to learn about the stuff, despite my best efforts not to!

After reading this, I feel I'd happily follow Dan Keeling and Mark Andrew into any cellar to swill and swig the hours away.

This is my favorite general wine guide because it is full of pictures with a purpose. Most wine guides are overwhelmingly dense texts, interspersed with photographs of vineyards or still-life arrangements of bottles, glasses, and grapes: beautiful, but the images are illustrations rather than learning tools.

This book is completely different. Author Madeleine Puckette is a wine educator with a graphic design background. She has created infographics and visualizations to break down information about wine. The result is an authoritative wine guide that is visually appealing and accessible, which I find myself dipping in and out of, and also using as a reference tool.