The cookbooks we play.

I've indulged myself with two collections. Tabletop roleplaying games and cookbooks. The game books are squirreled away. Like forbidden little tomes and zines, they live in the dark corners of my office. The cookbooks, on the other hand, live like zoo animals in my kitchen. Guests get to marvel and pet them when they visit. I've got one for everything—French cooking, tiki drinks, wok maintenance—you name it. I use them too. There's olive oil and paprika embedded in the spine of these books, when I'm gone and they're donated, my flour thumbprint will be all that's left of me.

Now I know what you're thinking, why is Explorers Design writing about cookbooks? Specifically the kind that live next to boiling pots and cutting boards? The reason: rpg books are often compared to cookbooks. The meme online goes something like, "What can rpgs learn from cookbooks?"

The answers don't always translate to rpgs, if I'm being honest. But today, because it's April 1st—I'm flipping the question on its head. And I'm dead serious when I say this: There's a lot cookbooks can learn from rpgs.

#1 Present ingredients like monsters in bestiaries.

I understand cookbooks are reticent to give specifics about certain ingredients, namely the brand and variety, but every player knows "goblin" is not the same across systems, adventures, and tables. When I crack open a cookbook, I want to know which white wine I should be putting in my sauce. Are they're asking for the Daggerheart (Chardonnay) variety or the Warhammer (Gewürztraminer) variety? Do not tell me a recipe needs "soy sauce," that's not specific enough. What kind of soy sauce? From what region? How old? What brands are the good ones (because let's be honest, some soy sauces are just salt water with dye). I want cookbooks to do the minimum amount of legwork found in your average monster stat block.

#2 Key your recipes like dungeons.

Some cookbooks are designed to be something other than a manual—like art, history, or philosophy. Like many rpgs, those books don't need special typesetting. A few of my cookbooks don't even number the steps in their recipes. They don't need numbered lists because they're mostly memoirs or manifestos about cooking beans.

But let's assume some cookbooks want to act like manuals. They want to be used at the table (sound familiar?). Those books should be stealing from dungeon-based dungeons. Why aren't ingredients getting special formatting? Why can't I see where the ingredients live in the recipe at a glance? I know I'm supposed to read the recipe in advance, prep for my cooking sessions—but why can't I have both?

And why are some steps not nested inside of each other? If I'm mixing a bowl of dry ingredients, and there are steps within that grouping like sifting in baking soda, roasting powders, or grinding spices—why not have them grouped together as trappings of a larger component in the recipe? The same way an adventure like Sharky by Idle Cartulary nests details within details.

#3 Show mise en place like a map.

Mise en place is a French culinary phrase that means, "putting in place." It's a fancy way of saying, have all of your ingredients on the table, prepped and ready to go. That way, when you get to the part where timing is everything, you can add ingredients without racing to mince garlic.

Most of my favorite cookbooks will show a picture of the finished dish—that way you have an idea of what you're striving for. A few books even show pictures of the ingredients—but what if those ingredients were depicted mise en place, arranged, notated and presented like a dungeon map? What if you could turn the page to a recipe and see the culinary adventure laid out before you—all of the ingredients, the prep, and the relationships mapped out as ingredients in little bowls and ramekins on a counter.

I'm not saying all cookbooks should have mise en place maps, but the beginner cookbook or prep-heavy cookbook that steals this idea is going to really stand out.

#4 Different function means different ingredient.

In many rpg books, permutations of monsters with unique interactions are listed as separate monsters. That's why you might have dire wolves or skeletons with spears listed separately from wolf pups and skeleton knights. Having them separated highlights their differences and telegraphs their presence in the adventure. It also lets the GM know what to expect, "Don't prep for just one."

Too often I've read an ingredient list in a cookbook, prepared it as written, and been told to un-chop the almonds, un-cook the onions, or garnish with something that's already been added to the stew. This is a problem fixed with a second pre-read and prep, but it would be improved if the permutations of ingredients were listed in the ingredients as separate entities.

This requires a fundamental reconsideration of what the ingredients list in a cookbook is. I think many people assume the list of ingredients is a list of contents, but many cookbooks treat it as a shopping list—that's why it's listed only semi-prepared or not at all. Perhaps some cookbooks would benefit from two separate lists. The shopping list and the prep list.

#5 Give me the cookbook-specific advice.

Most rpg books provide GM support whether it's procedures, techniques, or "hacks" for certain scenarios. Cookbooks have similar sections in their books, especially cookbooks that are geared towards teaching. But what a lot of rpg books do is give tailored advice, techniques, and hacks that do not transfer to other rpgs. They're hyper-specific to that game's rules and procedures. Sure, there are the commonalities, like how to handle the spotlight or make a ruling, but the really good rpg books aren't afraid to get into the weeds.

If a cookbook is about eating seasonally, I want a chart with the produce mapped seasonally, and I want advice on how to buy produce that's ripe and unspoiled. If I'm buying a cookbook on French cooking, tell me everything about butter and cream. How do I pick the right wine? If this book is full of trendy, instagram food (like many new cookbooks are), give me a section on plating. Give me all the hacks the nonnas, hungover chefs, and aunties know.

My favorite rpg-like cookbooks.

This is a transaction. I'm sharing mine so you'll share yours. What cookbooks do you feel are especially well-made and designed for cooking? What kind of innovations or qualities do they bring to the kitchen that other cookbooks do not?

• The Wok by J. Kenji López-Alt. The ingredients list in this is perfect. It tells you brands, types, and even how prominent they are in the book's recipes. It also has tons of advice and background information on individual recipes.
• Start Here by Sohla El-Waylly. The graphic design in this book is overtly practical. I have my qualms about some of the keying, but I can't deny that the books emphasis on hacking and building on recipes is killer.
• Smuggler's Cove by Rebecca and Martin Cate. Forget what you know about Tiki drinks. This is like a setting book for drinking. It has history, regions, and even some secret formulas for lesser known drinks.
• Six Seasons: A New Way with Vegetables by Joshua McFadden. It's like a campaign book for cooking. Organized by time of year, you eat from it chronologically based on seasonality.
• The Art of Fermentation by Sandor Katz. There are bigger and more beautiful books on fermentation, but this is the best one for actually getting into the practice. It's a book all about fundamental technique.

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