Book Review: “Good Things” by Samin Nosrat
There are books you flip through quickly, admiring the recipes before placing them on the shelf. And then there are books you sink into — quietly, slowly — because something in them feels familiar, like a friend who understands the way you want to live. Good Things, Samin Nosrat’s newest book, is absolutely the latter. It’s a book that hums with warmth and presence, a reminder that cooking well is less about precision and more about paying attention — to the good ingredients, the good people and the good moments that make up a life in the kitchen.
From the very first page, I felt Samin’s trademark generosity. She writes the way she cooks: with curiosity, humility and a kind of openheartedness that makes you want to tie on an apron and chop something — anything — just to join her. If Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat (one of my absolute FAVs) was a four-part symphony in flavor, Good Things is a quieter meditation, a collection of essays, stories, techniques and tiny rituals that celebrate the everyday magic of home cooking.
This is not a recipe-driven book, though there are recipes (and I’ve already made quite a few of them!). It’s a perspective-shaping book — one that invites us to notice more, taste more thoughtfully and recognize the quiet pleasures that live inside the daily act of feeding ourselves.
One of the threads running through Good Things is Samin’s belief that the kitchen is a place of possibility — no matter your skill, confidence or background. Her stories move between countries, kitchens, mentors and mistakes with that same wholehearted honesty that made me fall in love with her years ago. She doesn’t present herself as an authority perched on top of the culinary ladder; she meets you on the ground, sleeves rolled up, reminding you that “good things” often begin with a single ingredient that sparks joy — a perfectly heavy lemon, a bunch of fresh herbs, a fragrant handful of basil, a roasted chicken that makes the whole house smell — well, chicken-y.
If you’re drawn to seasonal, botanical cooking like I am — you’ll find plenty to savor here. Samin has a way of making simple ingredients feel special: mint crushed between your fingers, citrus zest releasing its oils, warm broth deepening in flavor as it simmers. Her instructions are more like invitations: add enough salt until things taste alive, squeeze enough citrus until the dish opens up. There's a sensory wisdom woven through every page, and home cooks who love herbs, flowers and seasonal produce (like me) will feel seen, understood and deeply inspired.
What moved me most though, is how Samin reframes the role of cooking in daily life. She reminds us that the kitchen isn’t just a functional space — it’s a place for grounding, restoration, reconnection. In that way, Good Things is as much about nourishment of the spirit as nourishment of the body. You’ll find lessons on patience, on embracing imperfection, on celebrating the tiny triumphs of a meal well made. And woven into all this softness is real culinary craft — guidance that strengthens your intuition, your ability to taste and your confidence to pair flavors in a way that feels deeply your own.
It’s clear that Samin believes, completely, in the power of good ingredients. This resonates with the philosophies of cooks like Alice Waters, who taught us to trust the ingredient first, and with writers like Nigel Slater, who taught us to savor the small beauties of everyday cooking. In her own way, Samin folds these traditions together and filters them through her signature warmth. The result is a book that feels both timeless and utterly present — a foothold for anyone trying to cook with more attention and more joy.
If you’re looking for the next big cookbook filled with complex culinary projects, this may not be it. But if you’re craving a book that feels like a companion, one that will sit open on your counter as you brew tea, zest a lemon or simmer a pot of broth, Good Things might be exactly what you need. It’s a gentle reminder that good cooking isn’t defined by extravagance — it’s defined by presence. And sometimes, presence is the most nourishing ingredient we have.
You can find Good Things on Amazon - just click HERE.
(images: crate and barrel; barnes & noble)
