It’s impossible for me to explain fully how utterly bereft I felt upon discovering my beloved magazine, Fine Cooking, was gone, leaving this chef broken-hearted. What would be my inspiration now?
You see, it had been my bi-monthly go-to for 26 years, for over two-and-a-half decades I’d been a loyal and avid subscriber. I’d devoured each and every issue, even going as far as tracking down the first 16 issues I didn’t have – my first being issue #17 that featured a slobber-inducing Southern Italian Ragu on the front cover (pictured left).
Fine Cooking and the Inspiration of a Chef
I remember vividly discovering it. It was the same day I’d had my interview at trade school to apply for the next year’s Commercial Cookery course. I was a nervous wreck, despite having already been told I’d more-or-less been allocated a place. Nothing was in the bag until it was in writing.
I’d already confirmed I wasn’t interested in pursuing a Front of House roll – a full year studying the Hospitality Supervision course had put me right off – and the kitchen was definitely where I saw myself long-term.
From February to December I’d endured hours of what felt like public humiliation at the hands of FoH trainers; I was too nervous as a waitress, often blanking out at tables under the pressure. I couldn’t operate the Reception computers (I was nowhere near as savvy as I am now) and I regularly ballsed-up the spreadsheets. Bar/barista work… was interesting, but not my passion and with too many limits it was not nearly rewarding enough.
Yes, cooking, that was for me!
So, there I was one December afternoon, pacing through Central Square Shopping Mall in the heart of Ballarat when I wandered into the over-stuffed newsagents. This place was an Aladdin’s cave of magazines, every title you could think of, and then some surprises you wouldn’t expect.
Fine Cooking vs Everyone Else!
I leafed through the glossy pages of Gourmet Traveller and found it lacking. I’m sure I’m one of the odd ones, but to me it always felt empty, false, not at all living up to its reputation.
Saveur – I admired, but my fingertips felt like they’d been singed when you touched the cover. Great publication, but the price tag was a no-go for a student.
Bon Appétit – wow, talk about overwhelm. Much like GT, this magazine was just too much. For a student it was so over the top it was intimidating, not inspiring, certainly not encouraging.
There were, of course, dozens of others but the one that caught my eye was Fine Cooking.
What was so great about Fine Cooking?
To truly understand, you’ll need to get a hold of a copy, but I’ll try to explain.
First – the photography. It was clear, nothing getting in the way, nothing overshadowing the main character – the food! There were no parlour tricks here, now showy or gimmicky shots, just honesty. It is what it is.
Second – the recipes. They worked! Fine Cooking was famous for its “triple tested” recipes, revisions, and retests. As Diana Andrews attests, they took each and every recipe and ran it through multiple test kitchens to ensure that each and every cook would achieve success. Respect where it’s due, this was outstanding.
Third – the sponsors. Ads annoy the hell out of everyone. But, all publications have them, otherwise we wouldn’t have the magazine to read. Most people are surprised to learn that subscribers and counter-sales don’t pay for publication. Ads do. They’re what pay the wages, the overhead costs, they’re what allows forward planning and research. Cover sales help keep the boat afloat and the journey cruising along.
With that in mind, the ads were decent, relevant, and in some cases informative and enjoyable. They weren’t high faluting, or aspirational to the mega-rich. They were for real products for real people who loved to cook.
Finally, the price. This was not a magazine that was out for glory. In fact, I don’t think I paid more at the end for my subscription than the first day I took it out. I was an International subscriber, $100USD every 3 years for my copies to be mailed directly to me – saving heaps of time instead of waiting for it at the newsagents, let alone the threat of missing out.
In 1996 $100USD was a lot. I’m talking a month’s groceries. By 2020, it wasn’t nearly as dire. But, it was totally worth it, and I’d have paid twice that to keep it alive. Hell, I’d have given literal blood if it would’ve helped!
Fine Cooking‘s legacy?
As the years ticked over I dreamt of contributing to it. I wrote a small letter, once, to mark the 100th issue, and to make the publishers aware of those of us who’d been around since the beginning. Theirs, or ours. Sadly, this letter wasn’t printed. I do hope my appreciation was shared with the writers and editorial staff.
This quiet and unassuming culinary hero was the epitome of class. Sure, it’s appearance took on a few questionable changes through its lifetime, but you could still read it and enjoy it.
Ironically, I’d call it the publishing equivalent to Captain America, and maybe this is why it eventually came to a natural end.
Much like Capt’s story, the world moved on and changed. Not always for the better. Did it have a place in the digital age full of flashy videos and crass adverts? Fine Cooking, perhaps, felt like a war-worn hero than the belle-of-the -glitzy-ball.
Many of us will never agree with, nor understand, the reasoning behind Meredith Corp’s decision to end Fine Cooking. After all, who wanted to take Capt’s shield from him? Not I!
But, now that it’s gone, what do we do? Where do we go? What do we read? I don’t have any of those answers. For 4 years I’ve mourned and muttered bad words under my breath. I’ve cursed out Meredith for their actions. I’ve failed to find a tolerable replacement. Because, there is none.
We will ever see the like of Fine Cooking again?
That’s highly unlikely, and that’s the truth of it. That’s why it hurts so much. Because this wasn’t a glossy tabloid-esque magazine tarting about in French maid’s apron pretending to know how to use a KitchenAid. It WAS a REAL cooking magazine, it may not have drawn literal breath, but it was alive with passion for cooking. Between its pages there was truth, there was inspiration for wherever you were in your cooking journey.
I never, not once, didn’t look forward to it arriving – and even when I moved house time and again, it found me. Like others, I moved about for my career, updating my address each time, and like clockwork, Fine Cooking found me.
Why losing Fine Cooking hurts.
During bouts of depression, unemployment, disillusionment, it kept me company. It kept me interested in food, in cooking, in living. It was a steady and reliable friend who was always there. I miss it, but I’m grateful for the years we had together, and that I get to keep so many memories, and back issues.
So, if you do find a dust-covered copy in some random secondhand shop, grab it. You’ll thank me if you do. Whichever issue you find, you’ll discover helpful advice, delicious recipes, and entertaining stories written by other avid cooks. Because at its heart, that’s what it was and always will be, a magazine for people who love to cook.
If you’d like to know more, or read more, you can access many issues of the magazine via The Internet Archive. I’d also highly recommend following Diana Andrews, one of Fine Cooking’s finest.
