What do you think?
Rate this book
Outlaw Cook
In essays ranging from his earliest cooking lessons in a cold-water walk-up apartment on New York's Lower East Side to opinions both admiring and acerbic on the food writers of the past ten years, John Thorne argues that to eat exactly what you want, you have to make it yourself. Thorne tells us how he learned to cook for himself the foods that he likes best to eat, and following along with him can make you so hungry that his simple, suggestive recipes will inspire you to go into the kitchen and translate your own appetite into your own supper.
378 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1992
24 people are currently reading
271 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 24 of 24 reviews
May 14, 2013
Wonderful narratives about food by a man who enjoys simple ingredients prepared well.
October 7, 2020
Outlaw Cook is great in many ways: Thorn is a food writer that admits to not being a great cook so you can identify with him, but I suspect he's actually a very good cook. He's also a very good writer and is truly thought provoking and stimulating, making us think properly about the way we engage with both food and cooking. There's a lot more narrative than recipes so don't expect a book of recipes. The recipes he does include are relatively easy to use and his main theme: that we should all improvise more and follow recipes less is both well made and facilitated by the way he presents recipes. The two main problems are a) the way he eschews recipes (a bit too much and too repeatedly) and b) the last few chapters which attack other food writers in a way that's really unnecessary and unjustified, especially the piece on Martha Stewart: I've never come across her work but the chapter is way too much. I recommend skipping those chapters but still reading the last one.
July 12, 2017
My first and favorite book on cooking
Thorne's approach is write about a topic, show some recepies, and then discuss some sources. He tends to avoid anything complex - ingredients and techniques are simple enough that they feel like they done by anyone who wants to move beyond the microwave.
In addition, he discusses his reasons for how the recipes came about and the things he tried that did _NOT_ work. Knowing what not to can be just as important as knowing what to do.
An excellent first book for anyone who wants to think about what they are trying to cook.
Thorne's approach is write about a topic, show some recepies, and then discuss some sources. He tends to avoid anything complex - ingredients and techniques are simple enough that they feel like they done by anyone who wants to move beyond the microwave.
In addition, he discusses his reasons for how the recipes came about and the things he tried that did _NOT_ work. Knowing what not to can be just as important as knowing what to do.
An excellent first book for anyone who wants to think about what they are trying to cook.
October 26, 2020
Odd book. I liked it, and there are some good culinary philosophies therein, but his character or personality is something I couldn’t relate to for some reason. He’s just a socially odd person. I can’t get a bead on him.
October 9, 2023
Interesting series of essays on food and cooking.
July 31, 2016
Thorne had me hooked in the preface. As he wrote about the fact that he “couldn’t have too many recipes,� I knew I was reading the words of a kindred spirit. I, too, am a hoarder of recipes, cookbooks, clippings, and I am constantly finding loose envelopes on which I have jotted down a recipe or simply an idea for a dish. One would think with all the technology at my fingertips, I could come up with an organizational plan for my recipes. Instead, I have an empty box that I try to throw in all these loose tidbits (with the exception of a wayward envelope or two).
I also identified with Thorne using cookbooks to “inflate my sense of self as a cook.� Yes, how often I buy a cookbook because it is the next foodie trend. I have Dorie’s and Ottolenghi’s books languishing on the shelf. It is pretentious I know, but the perception put out there is “I must be a great and serious cook. Just look at all the books I own.�
Thorne relates that cooking is a process of self-discovery, a personal journey to find one’s palate, style, knowledge and practice in the artistry of food.
The essay that spoke the most to me was “Plowman’s Lunch.�
I was raised a farm girl and have spent time as a “plowman.� Some of the most vivid memories I have are during the harvest. When I was too young to be any significant help in the field, I was relegated to Grandma’s to “help� in the kitchen. We would pack up simple sandwiches and Mason jars full of iced tea to take to the field. There, Dad and Grandpa would stop the combines just long enough to inhale a sandwich and chug down gulps of tea. We would then return to the kitchen to start work on the evening meal, sometimes eaten long after dark, especially if rain were in the forecast. Most generally, this meal would be a casserole of some sort, something that could withstand setting and being reheated as needed. These recipes were hearty and simple: homemade macaroni and cheese (with onions, I might add), hamburger casseroles (often made with Campbell’s soup), smothered steaks, Swedish meatballs, meatloaf. There would also always be a dessert, sometimes pie, but most often home-canned peaches or pears with a drizzle of cream. These were our “Plowman’s� lunches and dinners.
Iced tea again always accompanied these meals, never beer (as Thorne writes of a traditional peasant’s lunch).
As I perused his essay, a couple of other memories washed over me. One was of “Welsh Rabbit� (pg. 43) which we learned to make in home economics class in junior high. We thought it was the weirdest dish we had ever seen (and tasted). I actually think we made it too with Campbell’s tomato soup. (A travesty, I know, but I am sure we did not use ale, port, whiskey or stout.) As I read on about the beverage accompaniment to these simple meals, I was reminded of a high school English teacher (a rebel in his own mind) who taught us that beer was basically liquid bread. (I am sure our parents were thrilled about that tidbit.) And finally, there is a brewery in Hayes, Kansas, the halfway point in our travels to family in Colorado, that is named Lb. They pay homage to immigrant farmers and the “days of the settlers where beer and bread sometimes played interchangeable roles. When in the field, workers couldn’t always stop to eat lunch. So, they drank it. Hence ‘Lb.� for ‘Liquid Bread�. � I guess my old English teacher did know what he was talking about. (Imagine that?)
So, forgive my ramblings, but I had many experiences like this as I read Outlaw Cook. Thorne’s prose would lead me on my own mental journey about cooking, food, and comfort.
I look forward to delving further into Outlaw Cook and Thorne’s other works like Mouth Wide Open and Serious Pig. There is much food wisdom in his writing: "Maybe what all this means is that we don’t really start learnng how to cook until we begin noticing what gives us pleasure in the kitchen. Cooking is about eating, of course, but it’s also about doing�"
I also identified with Thorne using cookbooks to “inflate my sense of self as a cook.� Yes, how often I buy a cookbook because it is the next foodie trend. I have Dorie’s and Ottolenghi’s books languishing on the shelf. It is pretentious I know, but the perception put out there is “I must be a great and serious cook. Just look at all the books I own.�
Thorne relates that cooking is a process of self-discovery, a personal journey to find one’s palate, style, knowledge and practice in the artistry of food.
The essay that spoke the most to me was “Plowman’s Lunch.�
I was raised a farm girl and have spent time as a “plowman.� Some of the most vivid memories I have are during the harvest. When I was too young to be any significant help in the field, I was relegated to Grandma’s to “help� in the kitchen. We would pack up simple sandwiches and Mason jars full of iced tea to take to the field. There, Dad and Grandpa would stop the combines just long enough to inhale a sandwich and chug down gulps of tea. We would then return to the kitchen to start work on the evening meal, sometimes eaten long after dark, especially if rain were in the forecast. Most generally, this meal would be a casserole of some sort, something that could withstand setting and being reheated as needed. These recipes were hearty and simple: homemade macaroni and cheese (with onions, I might add), hamburger casseroles (often made with Campbell’s soup), smothered steaks, Swedish meatballs, meatloaf. There would also always be a dessert, sometimes pie, but most often home-canned peaches or pears with a drizzle of cream. These were our “Plowman’s� lunches and dinners.
Iced tea again always accompanied these meals, never beer (as Thorne writes of a traditional peasant’s lunch).
As I perused his essay, a couple of other memories washed over me. One was of “Welsh Rabbit� (pg. 43) which we learned to make in home economics class in junior high. We thought it was the weirdest dish we had ever seen (and tasted). I actually think we made it too with Campbell’s tomato soup. (A travesty, I know, but I am sure we did not use ale, port, whiskey or stout.) As I read on about the beverage accompaniment to these simple meals, I was reminded of a high school English teacher (a rebel in his own mind) who taught us that beer was basically liquid bread. (I am sure our parents were thrilled about that tidbit.) And finally, there is a brewery in Hayes, Kansas, the halfway point in our travels to family in Colorado, that is named Lb. They pay homage to immigrant farmers and the “days of the settlers where beer and bread sometimes played interchangeable roles. When in the field, workers couldn’t always stop to eat lunch. So, they drank it. Hence ‘Lb.� for ‘Liquid Bread�. � I guess my old English teacher did know what he was talking about. (Imagine that?)
So, forgive my ramblings, but I had many experiences like this as I read Outlaw Cook. Thorne’s prose would lead me on my own mental journey about cooking, food, and comfort.
I look forward to delving further into Outlaw Cook and Thorne’s other works like Mouth Wide Open and Serious Pig. There is much food wisdom in his writing: "Maybe what all this means is that we don’t really start learnng how to cook until we begin noticing what gives us pleasure in the kitchen. Cooking is about eating, of course, but it’s also about doing�"
June 19, 2013
Rather than a single, cohesive memoir, story or thesis, Outlaw Cook is a series of essays, divided into sections by a joining theme. The first part, Learning To Cook, had both an autobiographical and thematic arc, describing how Thorne developed his relationship with food and hunger. It was thus a disappointment when the following sections - Made To Taste and The Baker's Apprentice - diverged into an unordered discussion of various cuisines. The final section - The Culinary Scene - is a bit of a puzzlement with book reviews, but a couple of the pieces here are quite intriguing: the one on Martha Stewart and Cuisine Mecanique, the closing essay. It's an eminently appropriate ending and a perfect summation for the whole book.
Thorne has a distinct way of looking and writing about cooking, centered on a very primal philosophy of its uses. Even when not addressing his primary viewpoint, every essay in the book reflects this thesis. At times, he takes the whole thing to a pretentious degree ... which is ironic when the book argues vehemently against such pretention in the culinary field. Still, whether or not you agree with him as a reader, his discussion will make you think about your attitude towards cooking ... and why you hold it. (I came to the conclusion that my philosophy is almost entirely the polar opposite of his, which might color this review.)
Thorne's discussion of the history and physics of food is absorbing, though, and he takes a deep look at the cultural roots of each dish he considers. There are recipes a-plenty throughout this book, but it's not really a cookbook ... and Thorne would be the first person to tell you to be suspicious of recipes, so they are intended to be jumping-off points / inspiration. (Hand in hand with this, they were too simple for me - I noted only a few.) It's easy to see why Alton Brown was electrified by his point of view - I originally found out about this book from "I'm Just Here For The Food" - even though he took it in a completely different direction.
Even though I don't agree with a lot of this book, it makes for an interesting, thought-provoking read.
Thorne has a distinct way of looking and writing about cooking, centered on a very primal philosophy of its uses. Even when not addressing his primary viewpoint, every essay in the book reflects this thesis. At times, he takes the whole thing to a pretentious degree ... which is ironic when the book argues vehemently against such pretention in the culinary field. Still, whether or not you agree with him as a reader, his discussion will make you think about your attitude towards cooking ... and why you hold it. (I came to the conclusion that my philosophy is almost entirely the polar opposite of his, which might color this review.)
Thorne's discussion of the history and physics of food is absorbing, though, and he takes a deep look at the cultural roots of each dish he considers. There are recipes a-plenty throughout this book, but it's not really a cookbook ... and Thorne would be the first person to tell you to be suspicious of recipes, so they are intended to be jumping-off points / inspiration. (Hand in hand with this, they were too simple for me - I noted only a few.) It's easy to see why Alton Brown was electrified by his point of view - I originally found out about this book from "I'm Just Here For The Food" - even though he took it in a completely different direction.
Even though I don't agree with a lot of this book, it makes for an interesting, thought-provoking read.
April 24, 2008
OK, I admit, this is a niche-thing, and not everybody likes to READ about food, but I do, and I love the way John Thorne wraps himself around his subject like a warm tortilla. (Sorry I couldn't resist the food reference; I just had a warm tortilla for breakfast and they really are comforting. :) Anyway, he can take a mundane ordinary topic such as potato soup and, like a pudgy pink-cheeked grandma regale you with tales of the magical powers of the potato and its reign as king of foodstuffs, all while wiping up a batch and baking a pie, too. Granted my grandma never really let me sit in her kitchen and watch her cook much. She was more the "shoo, you're making a mess" type. And my mom was more the 'here you peel the potato while I go finish the laundry type', so my culinary storytelling traditions are non-existant. Cooking was work and therefore best to be avoided. Hamburger helper and spaghetti sauce from a box mix makes up the majority of my experience as a child cooking from scratch. But for me, this is the closest thing to what I IMAGINE it would be like to sit in grandma's kitchen watching and learning why we of certain geographical locations eat the way we do, and what it means. Its a nostalgic reconnection to the wonder of simple foods cooked for the purpose of filling bellies. Imagine that!
October 19, 2008
John Thorne is my favorite food writer -- heck, he's in my top three writers regardless of genre! He has a very alluring writing style that really speaks to me. Unlike so many contemporary food writers, his writing lacks any trace of pretension. Thorne approaches the task at hand with a contagious enthusiasm that leaps from the page. One is sorely tempted to put the book down and give it a go in nearly every chapter.
Always tracing a subject back to its origins as far as he can, he strives to keep things simple and honest, aligned with their original design (like his incredible Beef and Carrots recipe). He reaches back in time to the primal intentions of a recipe and draws inspiration from the echos of the originators. For Thorne this is a labor of love. He shrugs off modern conventions and trends, preferring to converse one-on-one with the food, the recipe, and the technique.
If you are at all interested in food writing you really owe it to yourself to seek out this classic. Unlike his later volumes (Pot on the Fire, Serious Pig, and Mouth Wide Open) this one out of print and rather hard to find. I found mine at an affordable price on ABE after many patient months of waiting.
Always tracing a subject back to its origins as far as he can, he strives to keep things simple and honest, aligned with their original design (like his incredible Beef and Carrots recipe). He reaches back in time to the primal intentions of a recipe and draws inspiration from the echos of the originators. For Thorne this is a labor of love. He shrugs off modern conventions and trends, preferring to converse one-on-one with the food, the recipe, and the technique.
If you are at all interested in food writing you really owe it to yourself to seek out this classic. Unlike his later volumes (Pot on the Fire, Serious Pig, and Mouth Wide Open) this one out of print and rather hard to find. I found mine at an affordable price on ABE after many patient months of waiting.
March 15, 2012
This culinary gem was on my to-read list and I don't know where I got the title, BUT, I'm so glad to have been tipped off to it. It is soooo fun. Thorne and his wife, Matt, make a to-do about baking bread and I loved all of that claptrap although, gawd knows I would never spend that much time and energy on making my own. Thorne passes on a terrific amount of the history of food which was stupifyingly interesting, plus know-how on searching for mushrooms and other arcane facts. His startleing reviews of other people's cookbooks are a bit grumpy and absolutely enjoyable. I am not one of those who reads cookbooks but this one had enough literature, art and personal opinion in it to make it much more than a compendium of measurements. A real dandy of a read.
May 21, 2017
Reading this book has taught me to conceptualise cuisine as an individual and unique experience of food, rather than a staid set of rules passed down through generations and split along cultural lines. It has encouraged me to play with taste and flavour, opening up the world of kitchen and culinary play; it has also taught me that recipes must fit the hands, whoever they belong to, and that hands can create their own recipes without recourse to numbers or to packets.
Occasionally pretentious, often delicious, and genuinely eye-opening, just as all good food books should be.
Occasionally pretentious, often delicious, and genuinely eye-opening, just as all good food books should be.
July 3, 2008
Looking for something outside the culinary beltway of PBS and Food Network cooks? John Thorne’s your man. Apparently incapable of setting down a recipe without rumination, he writes winningly of garlic soup, Irish soda bread, and meatball metaphysics. Bravely he offers a part-treatise, part confession “On Not Being a Good Cook�. Delightful reading for cooks, eaters, and those who enjoy casually perfect prose.
December 30, 2015
Engaging and fun foodie read. I do have to say, the chapter about welsh rarebit had me wanting to run right out and get a loaf of artisan bread, some good stout beer, a chunk of sharp cheddar cheese and an onion.
This book does what I love most about food writing... it glorifies the simple, yet wonderful foods. Peasant cookery, comfort food, the things we don't understand sometimes, and some that we wholeheartedly agree with.
Even better, it whets the appetite and inspires.
January 23, 2012
I really enjoyed this collection of essays on food and cooking. Outlaw Chef is our December/January selection for Cook the Books (best virtual foodie book club out there) ;-)
Here's a link to my full review and a the recipe for Cucumber, Lemon & Dill Soup from the book. A great and simple soup. (The ful medames, tahini sauce and hamine eggs were all good too.)
Here's a link to my full review and a the recipe for Cucumber, Lemon & Dill Soup from the book. A great and simple soup. (The ful medames, tahini sauce and hamine eggs were all good too.)
July 28, 2011
John Thorne's Simple Cooking newsletter is a national treasure. His curiosity and his appetite lead him into lengthy explorations of ingredients and recipes from everywhere. He makes me want to try new things - and he shares sources for hard to find items - what a guy! This collection is engaging, informative, entertaining and wonderfully written.
March 20, 2010
I'll admit I did not read each essay, but for as many as I skipped, I found a few really lovely essays on, not just good food, but the magical thing that happens when people prepare and share food together.
May 9, 2007
i now prefer paragraph recipes rather than the list-your-ingredients style.
September 27, 2008
Fun. This guy has a great approach to food and cooking.
August 2, 2010
Not a cookbook, but rather a book about food, and the making of food.
June 17, 2010
Good food writer
October 8, 2014
Very enjoyable writing about cooking and eating by an opinionated author. Some nice recipes, too.
March 4, 2015
Contains recipes I still use years after reading the book.
July 7, 2016
I read this book because I'm trying to make use of my cookbooks. Thorne writes so well about the act of home cooking. Makes me want to stay home and be a hausfrau!
January 22, 2017
Beautifully written book, esp. for being a cookbook.
Displaying 1 - 24 of 24 reviews
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get help and learn more about the design.