A Little Bird

Daisy Garnett's book, Cooking Lessons, is my one of my favourite food memoirs, about her discovery of a passion for cooking while on a journey by boat from New York to London. I'm also quite addicted to her chic listings site A Little Bird, full of stylish finds and reviews. So it's really no surprise I think her office is rather lovely, too. I think that colour green is perfect. Pictures: Simon Brown for the Daily Mail.

Rachel Hazell

Rachel Hazell is a bookbinder of extraordinary skill. I love this collection of books she made, all about plants. As well as doing big projects for places like Few and Far and the Crafts Council she takes on really little commissions, too; binding beautifully delicate single volumes of your poetry or favourite recipes custommade to your specification.

P.S. Lucy May Schofield's books are also pretty special.

The Last Food of England

It's not new, but this book is top of my Christmas list. It's Marwood Yeatman's culinary history of England (with photographs by his wife, Anya); an elegy to the craftsmanship and charm of the food we grow and rear: the Wessex sadleback, the Dorking, Lancashire oatcakes, West Country cider, clotted cream... Personally, I want to discover where I can pick myself some whortleberries.

Their Nibs

Their Nibs founder Fiona Bell's new book, Vintage Kids, is coming out next month, with 25 simple how-tos for making sweet baby frocks, like this one.

Recipes for an Italian Summer

We're taking off to Tuscany on Monday, to stay with Beatrice, so it's with particular excitement about what culinary delights might be in store next week that I was reminded of this book, a volume of Italy's most inspiring recipes for warm-weather food - from gnocchi with plums, to rose-petal gelato. The equally mouthwatering photography - of food and landscapes - is by Andy Sewell and Joel Meyerowitz.

Via Coolhunting, thanks ArchBlog!

Lark Rise to Candleford

It's out of print, sadly, but this book, edited by my dad, is still the loveliest looking volume I've ever owned. I don't remember living in a house without it on a bookshelf. The cloth-bound cover was inspired by the flower presses my sister and I loved keeping, and by the traditional red-and-white spotted cotton handkerchiefs that I associate so strongly with my childhood - my mum would often wear one as a headscarf on walks, and I'm sure both my grandfathers religiously carried them in their top pockets.