There’s a quiet truth many chefs carry: we learn as much from cookbooks as we do from our elders, our mentors, our memories. And when you cook outside your culture, every page becomes a negotiation—between admiration and appropriation, between tradition and technique.

My own shelves are stacked with Filipino cookbooks, yes—but also Japanese izakaya guides, Thai curry chronicles, Korean fermentation bibles, and worn-out Vietnamese street food paperbacks. They’re smudged with sauce splatters and penciled-in notes. They’ve taught me how to julienne green papaya and how to roll rice paper without cracking it. But they’ve also taught me something more difficult: humility.

Flipping the Pages, Facing the Questions

Cooking a cuisine that isn’t yours isn’t just about getting the recipe “right”—it’s about asking why the recipe exists. It’s wondering who first stood over a charcoal grill fanning skewers of yakitori, who first pressed sticky rice into a bamboo steamer and called it bánh tét. It’s about respect.

Early in my career, I fell into the trap of the fusion frenzy. I thought I was being clever by folding soy sauce into everything or putting kimchi on a burger without understanding its fermentation roots, its connection to land and family and survival. It wasn’t until I slowed down and read between the lines of these cookbooks—the stories, the rituals—that I understood how much I was missing.

Recipes Are Maps, Not Shortcuts

Every dish is a map of migration, climate, struggle, and celebration. When I pick up a non-Filipino Asian cookbook, I remind myself: this isn’t a shortcut to “exotic flavour.” This is someone’s memory, someone’s auntie, someone’s hometown night market. Cooking it is a privilege—not a performance.

What these books have given me is a deeper understanding of my own biases and blind spots. They remind me that cultural context is an ingredient. That food doesn’t exist in a vacuum. That authenticity isn’t about gatekeeping—it’s about honouring the process, the people, the purpose.

So What Do You Do with That Knowledge?

You keep learning. You cite your sources. You give credit. You support authors from the culture you’re learning about. You don’t just cook the recipe—you engage with it. You treat cookbooks as conversation, not conquest.

You can love Thai curry and not claim it as yours. You can crave Korean jjigae and still understand its history of scarcity and strength. You can serve Japanese onigiri and still say, “This recipe comes from a book by someone who knows it far better than me.”

What’s On My Shelf: Cookbooks I Return To

These are the books that have shaped my understanding beyond the Filipino kitchen. Each one offers more than recipes—they offer roots.

Japanese Cuisine

Sonoko Sakai presents simple, everyday Japanese recipes rooted in traditional techniques and seasonal eating. From dashi to soba, this book guides readers gently through the philosophy of washoku with clarity and warmth.

More than a cookbook, Donabe is a cultural journey into Japanese clay pot cooking. With personal stories and precise instructions, it teaches you how one vessel can bring both comfort and complexity to a meal.

Elizabeth Andoh brings a deep reverence for Japanese culinary values in this book. With guidance on tools, presentation, and balance, it’s a must-have for anyone exploring the roots of authentic Japanese home cooking.

Part autobiography, part cookbook, Ivan Orkin’s story from New York to Tokyo is told through bowls of ramen. His recipes are precise and personal, showing deep respect for the craft he adopted as his own.

Korean Cuisine

Maangchi’s beloved book is colourful and comprehensive. With step-by-step photos, ingredient tips, and cultural notes, it’s perfect for both beginners and Korean food lovers wanting to expand their skills.

Chef Sohui Kim shares family stories and kitchen wisdom in this homage to Korean cooking. Her recipes honour tradition while embracing modern techniques, making it approachable yet richly layered.

Koreatown is as much about identity as it is about recipes. The book dives into Korean-American communities with interviews, essays, and vibrant dishes that reflect the evolving nature of Korean food in the diaspora.

Marja Vongerichten offers a memoir-style cookbook that revisits her Korean roots after adoption. It’s emotional and eclectic, pairing traditional dishes with the experience of cultural rediscovery.

Vietnamese Cuisine

This is Nguyen’s most practical cookbook for North American kitchens. She adapts Vietnamese classics to use easily found ingredients while preserving depth of flavour and cultural integrity.

Focused entirely on pho, this book unpacks the dish’s evolution, variations, and technique. Nguyen also shares tips for broths, toppings, and even history—perfect for any noodle soup enthusiast.

A landmark publication that introduced Vietnamese food to many Western readers. Rich with stories and family recipes, Nguyen’s book remains a staple for cooks who want both flavour and background.

Nhut Huynh’s guide is light and inviting. The recipes are straightforward, and the photography highlights Vietnam’s vibrancy—from fish sauce to fresh herbs, it’s a feast for the eyes and the table.

Chinese Cuisine

Dunlop’s essential cookbook showcases the beauty of simplicity in Chinese home cooking. With an emphasis on vegetables, rice, and pantry staples, this book is both practical and respectful of tradition.

If you’re curious about Sichuan cuisine, this book is your bible. With historical context, flavour profiles, and plenty of spice, Dunlop translates a regional cuisine with care and insight.

López-Alt takes his scientific approach to wok cooking, breaking down stir-frying techniques, tools, and flavour layering. Ideal for curious cooks who want to understand the ‘why’ behind the ‘how.’

Betty Liu weaves her Shanghai upbringing into this collection of refined, memory-laden dishes. Family traditions, cityscapes, and culinary precision combine in this elegant, deeply personal book.

Southeast Asian / Pan-Asian

Leah Cohen blends her Filipina roots and fine dining experience into this Southeast Asian cookbook. The recipes are dynamic and bold, showcasing the region’s layered flavours with chef-level finesse.

This book captures Indonesia’s vast culinary diversity. With lush visuals and regional detail, Pandean-Elliott’s recipes range from spicy sambals to ceremonial dishes, reflecting deep cultural pride.

Open-flame cooking is central to Southeast Asia, and this book captures its essence. Leela shares recipes that honour traditional street-side grilling, paired with practical techniques.

Mandy Yin’s cookbook is a passionate tribute to Malaysian cuisine, especially from a diaspora lens. Each recipe is tied to personal memory, capturing both the flavour and emotion of home cooking.

The Bigger Picture

These cookbooks haven’t just taught me how to cook—they’ve taught me how to listen. And in that listening, I’ve found deeper connections not just to other cultures, but to my own. When I learn the why behind another tradition, I’m pushed to explore the why behind my own.

So this is my confession: I’ve borrowed from these books, but I’ve also grown because of them. They’ve made me a more thoughtful cook. A better steward of story. And a more mindful student of the incredible range of Asian culinary traditions—Filipino and beyond.