100 books like The Perfect Breasts

Every week on Thursday afternoon I find myself thinking “what will I cook today, to celebrate Shabbat tomorrow?” Even as a food writer, sometimes I run out of ideas. Since December last year, when 52 Shabbats came out, I have a new resource to refer to when I need inspiration. Faith's book includes a variety of classics and new dishes, organized in a way that makes dinner planning a breeze. In particular, I enjoy the fact that the main course recipes are organized by season, with reference to other courses that would complement them well.

The recipes are easy to follow, even if you have never cooked or tasted that specific Jewish dish before.

A lot of board books are concept books, but I love this one because there is an actual story, and it’s delightful!

Eccentric Uncle Max visits his relatives and brings fun and laughter as they celebrate the birthday of the world. I like how the joyful illustrations show a diverse family hitting all the holiday highlights–watching the sunset, eating a holiday meal with a round challah, and dipping apples in honey. And, of course, they go to the synagogue to hear the blowing of the shofar.

Although the text is simple, I appreciate how the author explains the Hebrew words. This is a sweet book to introduce toddlers to the Jewish New Year.

I first met Ciril Hitz at a pastry chefs’ conference in Las Vegas where he was conducting a demonstration workshop on laminated doughs like croissants. Swiss-born and American-educated, his articulate explanations of this complex branch of pastry-making, helped me to understand them more fully than ever before. 

I rejoiced when I received a copy of his first book about bread with a unique approach: Ten master formulas, each elucidating a different type of bread dough, cover the main techniques for producing delicious – and beautiful – breads accurately every time. 

Baguettes, focacce, brioches, croissants, whole grain breads, pizzas, bagels, sandwich bread, and challah, are all here with further variations on shapes and flavors. Having started my career with an exclusively pastry background, I had to learn about bread on my own. 

This book gave me a firm foundation of knowledge that enabled me to create my own individual approach to… show more.

I have never met Jake Cohen but his book, Jew-ish, makes me wish we were friends, and not only because he has the best book title pun ever. Jew-ish offers a brilliantly modern take on Jewish food and Jake’s personality really shines through every page of it. Jake’s enthusiasm for Jewish food is contagious. I often get annoyed when authors tweak traditional recipes in extravagantly creative ways, but the liberties that Jake takes on Jewish dishes really add a new dimension to them. I thought I’d dread things like Cacio e Pepe Rugelach (rugelach? salty? is it even legal?!), but I must say I’m a fan now: I’m a Jew-ish convert! :)

I love this book because it’s full of puns, and the humorous character names reflect the cultures of the various forms of bread they represent. There’s Alfie Koman (a matzah who likes to hide), Mrs. Crust, and classmates Challah Looyah, Naan-cy, Cornelius Tortilla, Burnie Toast, and Loaf Sourdough.

Alfie tries to tell the story of Passover, but Loaf butts in and says that Pha-Roach (not Pharoah) enslaved the Hebrews and a superhero named Mighty Moses brings 10 plagues (including No Wi-fi and Indoor Recess Forever–horrors!)

I cheer when Alfie finally yells, "Let my story go!" and tells the real history. The cartoonish art is hilarious, and the book includes a glossary of Passover terms. This is a fun way to introduce the holiday to Jewish and non-Jewish kids.

After being diagnosed with breast cancer I sampled outside information about breast cancer sparingly and this was the only book that made the cut. I dipped into it when I had a question and otherwise left it alone, but afterward I was usually glad I checked to see what Susan Love had to say and appreciated the big picture context that the book offers. If you can afford it, get the most recent edition since it will be the most accurate about treatment plans and ongoing research. 

Breast cancer has become ubiquitously one of the most common and dreaded cancers among women. Through this book, the author authentically and innovatively advocates for patients like her, who are diagnosed with breast cancer. She describes her journey in detail in an attempt to guide and advise others on how to deal with and manage life in the face of such a deadly diagnosis. While patients may be overwhelmed by the medical management aspects of the disease, the author reminds us to keep the human and psychological aspects in mind as a patient is after all a human being with emotions at the core.

Like everything Audre Lorde wrote, this slim book is powerful and revolutionary. Lorde refuses to see her breast cancer as just a personal problem, and instead, as a Black lesbian feminist, traces its origins to larger economic, industrial, and political forces, including food additives and air pollution. Her activist research is impressive, but it is her fierce, bold critiques that I find most inspiring. She calls out the medical establishment, “We live in a profit economy and there is no profit in the prevention of cancer; there is only profit in the treatment of cancer.” She condemns psychological “causes” of cancer, “It is easier to demand happiness than clean up the environment.” Lorde calls us to understand ourselves within a matrix of social and environmental forces and to make change.

It’s been said by smarter people than me how writing horror for kids isn’t about scaring them, it’s about showing them how brave they are.

A Monster Calls is the perfect illustration of that. The scariness and the spookiness are a stand-in for the real-life horrors that this kid is facing. Kids deal with a lot, and this book is the perfect example of how to survive when the worst happens.

The artwork too—wow! I wish I could get some of this artwork to hang on my walls. Absolutely gorgeous book.

Vanderah’s novel is an outlier on my list, because it’s actually a beautiful tale of found family—but that makes it a poignant counter to the others. 

Has Ursa, the uncanny child, merely assumed her “otherness” as a protective guise? Even by the end of the book, I found myself wondering whether the neatly wrapped up (and satisfying) story would have ended differently had the child been the narrator.  

More literary fiction than speculative, I recommend this novel for the lingering “what-ifs” that brought me back for a second read.