As someone with a cookbook problem – the problem being I have so many, I’m now reduced to a sketchily enforced one-in, one-out policy – I’ve been delighted by the recent spate of classic reissues. The latest, Diana Henry’s gloriously named Crazy Water, Pickled Lemons, was one of the first cool titles I felt I’d “found” for myself rather than inherited at home, albeit some years after its 2002 publication. Opening the pages and merely reading about rose-scented “ice in heaven” or Ottoman lamb felt exciting, a portal into another world … one I could, with a little effort, conjure up for dinner.

The same goes for Fuchsia Dunlop’s The Food of Sichuan (originally called Sichuan Cookery back in 2001), the first book where I learned there was more to Chinese cookery than the Cantonese standards I was used to in the English provinces. To be fair to my parents, I did grow up with Madhur Jaffrey’s Indian Cookery (below), which introduced real Indian food to large swaths of the British public used to Vesta curries and coronation chicken, and was beautifully republished for its 40th anniversary a couple of years ago.

All of these got me thinking, as I prowled the shelves looking for books that had delighted me long enough, of the ones I’d love to see given a second moment in the spotlight. The late Gary Rhodes’ New British Classics, for example, is one of the first books I turn for traditional dishes that are elegant enough to serve to company. It was worth the cover price alone for his signature braised oxtail – not available in the UK at the time of writing thanks to fears over BSE, but very much back on the menu now.

Lindsey Bareham’s incredibly comprehensive global collection Soup and Clarissa Dickson Wright and Johnny Scott’s Game Cookbook are single-subject books I turn to often in search of inspiration. Conversely, Geraldene Holt’s French Country Kitchen and Anne Willan’s French Regional Cooking (I note Jeremy Lee is also a fan) are far more wide-ranging, meticulously researched surveys that go well beyond the usual restaurant fare to offer such lesser-sung gems as chicken moltani from Guadeloupe or mince-pie-like sweet mutton pies from Languedoc. The same goes for Ghillie Basan’s Classic Turkish Cookery (also recommended by Yotam Ottolenghi), and Shu Han-Lee’s love letter to the flavours of her native Singapore, Chicken and Rice.

Also on my Indian shelf, but quite different from Jaffrey’s book, is Simon Daley and Roshan Hirani’s Cooking With My Indian Mother-in-Law, which, as the name suggests, is the fruit of Daley’s crash course in Gujarati family recipes including drumstick curry, khichri and spiced buttermilk. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, it doesn’t contain any ideas for camel, unlike Madame Guinaudeau’s 1958 book on the food of Fez, published in English six years later as Traditional Moroccan Cooking. I inherited my copy from the food writer Thane Prince, who found it had more to offer than just dromedary.

That said, replacing old books with their new versions isn’t going to solve my storage problem – plus, I can’t help thinking as I look at the original Crazy Water that I plan to donate to charity: it does seem a shame to get rid of such an old friend. Maybe I could keep both?

Turn over a new leaf | I came back from three months in the US to find my once-diminutive fig tree had taken over the garden – though, as yet, it has yielded but three fruits this season. It has, however, plenty of leaves, which is excellent, because one of my favourite Substack newsletters, Nicola Lamb’s Kitchen Projects, ran a collection of “fig-leaf pallooza” recipes that I’ve been eyeing up for more than a year – and Marie Havnø Frank’s “GOAT” fig-leaf ice-cream proved well worth the wait. That said, I’m not ruling out Nigel Slater’s delicious-sounding kefir-based version before they start to crisp and curl.

What I’ve read this week | I picked up a copy of the President’s Kitchen Cabinet at the Monticello gift shop after a thought-provoking tour of Thomas Jefferson’s Virginia estate. James Beard award-winner Adrian Miller’s book is a fascinating read about the African Americans who worked in the presidential food service, with plenty of historic detail, as well as recipes associated with the Black chefs featured.

New discovery | Walking past a bakery on London’s Leather Lane with a friend one lunchtime, my eye was caught by a small sign advertising its new Somali menu. Unfamiliar with the cooking of this vast east African country, we abandoned our falafel plans in favour of slow-braised lamb marinated in coriander, lime, garlic and spices and a piquant chicken and pepper stew, both served with aromatic rice and, to our surprise, a whole banana. The lady behind the counter at Plated explained the tradition began as a way to encourage children to eat – and has become part of the culture: “It’s like Marmite, you either love it or hate it.” Needless to say, I’ll be back for more.