Maeve Higgins

Bonnie Slotnick Cookbooks seems like a fairy-tale cottage, tucked away on East Second Street at the bottom of a redbrick townhouse. Daffodils nod along on the patio, and inside, shelves are packed full of vintage cookbooks and tables are laden with quaint accoutrements. But this store is not from a fairy tale—it’s vibrant and real. Neighbors drop by with their little jacketed dogs and rummage through new-arrivals. A couple of mothers and daughters from the Midwest tumble in, asking for directions to the closest bubble-tea spot. Bonnie Slotnick herself sits behind the counter and happily obliges with tips, handing them a map of the neighborhood and generally acting like a character in a Nora Ephron movie, sharp and funny. Utterly charmed, the tourists stay and browse. I was a tourist myself the first time I visited the store, back when it was located in the West Village. I came across a volume called New York: Fair or No Fair, a guide published in 1939 specifically for the lone “woman vacationist,” featuring an entire chapter concerning “Cocktails, Dinner and No Escort.” All my friends go crazy for this  book, and I’ve since searched for another copy of it online, without success. It feels like a secret tome, a feat in today’s world of 24-hour access. Since moving to NYC, I’ve often returned to Bonnie Slotnick’s new location. I don’t cook often, but I thrive on praise, and believe me, when you give someone the gift of the captivating 100 Greatest Dishes of Louisiana Cookery, y