For last week’s long weekend (BC Day for us BCers) I went on a road trip to Portland, Oregon. The drive ended up being much longer than we had initially anticipated (curse you long weekend border lineups!) but Portland definitely made up for the extended trek. 

Portland has so much to offer foodwise. But what would you expect from a city whose tourist attractions include street food and “that awesome donut place”? Whether I was enjoying a huge $5 Korean burrito from a street vendor or a tasty organic breakfast at Bijou Cafe, my taste buds were always pleased and my stomach was always full.

Portland Street Food

One non-food-related attraction that is not to be missed in Portland is Powell’s Books. This three-storied, nine-roomed trove of books is unlike anything I have experienced. I could have spent an entire day in Powell’s, if not for my less enthusiastic travel companions (apparently there are other things to see in Portland than shelves upon shelves of books). Powell’s gave me a chance to think about something other than food for a while, until of course I ended up in the cookbook section. I snapped a quick picture (see below) of a Whitecap book on a Powell’s shelf and couldn’t stop myself from asking if they had my personal favourite title from last season, Quinoa 365. They were sold out and awaiting the forthcoming second printing!

The Food of Morocco at Powell's

Does that sound like boring work? Nope. First and foremost, the staff here must be alert and ready to dodge or deal with everyday dangers. You know, typical office incidents-someone staples their finger, a bottle of toner explodes, a sudden and alarming decline in the paperclip population threatens to cause further chaos.

Cookbooks must be logically organized, but also artful. They must be extremely accurate, but easy to follow. They have to be simply worded, but engaging. Finally they must be useful and beautiful. And it takes a big team, along with very talented and enthusiastic authors, to achieve all these goals. The trajectory of a cookbook-in-production, where recipes go from a scribble on some scrap paper to files we can send to the printer, can be pretty dramatic.

First the author must plug away for months, often longer, testing and writing out recipes that work and work well. Then they must go through the arduous editorial process during which we relentlessly grill them about big issues (How about merging these two chapters into one and moving it over here? What are these intro bits doing in chapter two?) right down to the small ones (How long do you stir it? What consistency should it be? What happens if the dough sticks together? Do you mean one teaspoon or one tablespoon?).

Then there's the photography and design stage, which is usually more exciting since the book really starts to feel like a Book. But that's for another blog entry ...

What remains are weeks and weeks of checking, moving, changing colours and font sizes, making last-minute additions. Authors are asked to go over more details, are asked more bizarre questions: How about doubling the amounts in the paneer recipe so this makes one cup instead of half a cup? Of the eight or so recipes in the book that use paneer, five call for one cup, and one calls for three-quarters of a cup.

One thing I've learned is how surprisingly collaborative it is to make a book: the publisher, the author, the editors, the photographers, the food stylists, the designers, the production manager, the publicist ... everyone must do their part. Yes, making cookbooks is hard work. But it's pretty rewarding hearing everyone say that they love the finished product. And sometimes, just sometimes, you even get a hug from the author.

Taryn Boyd is Whitecap's managing editor and will be a frequent contributor to this blog.