#1 New York Times bestselling author Phyllis Pellman Good has sold more than 10½ million cookbooks. She is the author of the bestselling cookbook series entitled Fix-It and Forget-It. She always wanted to operate a cooking store that carries great gadgets and wares for your kitchen, and that offers cooking classes. Finally, it has happened!
In late November of 2010, she and her family opened The Good Cooking Store in the quaint Lancaster County (PA) village of Intercourse, just a stone’s throw from where all of the Fix-It and Forget-It cookbooks are put together. Her daughter Rebecca is the Manager. Come and visit!
We love food in this town. If you’re looking for some cooking inspiration, stop by The Good Cooking Store for cookware and gadgets. Don’t be shy; ask for help. See our Fix-It and Forget-It Story Wall. Think about which of our cooking classes you’d like to sign up for, and who you’d like to have join you. Have a cup of coffee and sample our cookies while you’re with us!
Here is the story of how Phyllis’ dream of this Store came to be.
I apparently had no interest in how good food arrived on our kitchen table when I was growing up. I ate with gusto, but I have no memory of helping to cook. I believe I was shamelessly oblivious.
I can’t blame my genes or my environment. I had two round grandmothers, a dad who cooked partly as entertainment for himself, and a mother who made full meals every night of the week while working part-time, even while caring for her aging parents next door.
In my defense, I was not a spoiled child. Both my parents saw to that. I did my share of dishwashing and drying. I learned to iron and dust. But cooking slipped right past me. I loved to read more than anything else. I’m guessing I just wore Ma out by always being out of sight as mealtime approached.
I did like my copy of Betty Crocker’s Cookbook for Boys and Girls, maybe mostly because it was a book. I liked to make “Eggs in a Frame,” which was probably the only recipe in my cooking repertoire when I got married.
Merle had a hunch about how little I knew about cooking, but as we dated more and more seriously, I believe he tried not to think about it too much. We were both students, so when we got married, we split the household chores.
Merle volunteered to do the cleaning. I said, “Sure, I’ll cook.”
My college roommate had given us a cookbook for a wedding gift. And somehow, I had brought my mother’s favorite community cookbook along to our first home. Those two books, plus a box of recipe cards Ma had written for me, must have been the source of my confidence when I agreed to cook.
When I read the community cookbook but still couldn’t figure out how to cook a chicken to get chicken broth, I realized I needed a very basic cookbook. And so I began reading cookbooks that spelled out every step. I tried stuff. Merle bravely ate and cheered me on.
And so began my romance with cookbooks. As long as their recipes spelled things out in clear detail, I could manage a decent result. Cooking was a true break from studying. And I had huge incentives—a downright happy husband who decided to bet on encouraging me rather than advising me. (Smart man.) And the sound in my head of my grandmothers and both parents cheering me on.
Cookbooks became my special passion. I couldn’t stop trying new recipes, and I wanted everybody else to discover the pleasure of cooking and the extraordinary satisfaction of sitting down together around food each evening. There’s nothing much more ordinary than that. Yet it’s mysteriously sustaining.
I love putting cookbooks together. I love working with great home cooks—and forming a community that shares recipes, cooking tips, and encouragement for cooking at home.
Would it be surprising if I admitted that I wanted to hit any cooking store I ever heard about or happened to drive past? And it’s probably not a shock when I confess to thinking for quite a while that a good cooking store would be a fitting addition to our little town.
Now that dream has become a reality. So, please stop in and see us the next time you’re in our small town of Intercourse.