Cottagecore

Cottagecore is an aesthetic idealising rural life. Cottagecore fiction tends to be gentle stories in a rural setting, at a slow pace which includes descriptions of nature, and exude feelings of comfort with perhaps some mild adventure and a some fantasy. Whether an explicit part of the book or lurking in the background, there is always a love of nature.

Cottagecore Books

Anne of Green Gables (Anne of Green Gables, #1)

Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries (Emily Wilde, #1)

Howl’s Moving Castle (Howl’s Moving Castle, #1)

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Lists

The Complete Grimm's Fairy Tales by Jacob Grimm

Cottagecore picture books

142 books — 16 voters

Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder

The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams Bianco

Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder

Cottagecore books

69 books — 4 voters

Two Rogues Make a Right by Cat Sebastian

Cottagecore Romance, But Gay

3 books — 3 voters

Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel

The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim

Tabby's First Quest (Kitten Kingdom #1) by Mia Bell

Carrie Soto Is Back by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Books for Taurus

30 books — 4 voters

Cozy Witch Vibes

2 books — 1 voter

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett

Dark Cottagecore Books

33 books — 14 voters

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Quotes Tagged “Cottagecore”

“ Jane Grigson joined the Observer magazine in the summer of 1968. Her first column was about strawberries. She wrote a recipe for strawberry barquettes-- small pastry boats filled with fruit and lacquered with redcurrant jam so that they looked like jewels. There was another for strawberry brulée in a sweet sablé shell, and coeur à la crème-- a cream pudding set in a heart-shaped mould and encircled with fruit. 'In Venice, in the season of Alpine strawberries...' she wrote, and it didn't really m Jane Grigson joined the Observer magazine in the summer of 1968. Her first column was about strawberries. She wrote a recipe for strawberry barquettes-- small pastry boats filled with fruit and lacquered with redcurrant jam so that they looked like jewels. There was another for strawberry brulée in a sweet sablé shell, and coeur à la crème-- a cream pudding set in a heart-shaped mould and encircled with fruit. 'In Venice, in the season of Alpine strawberries...' she wrote, and it didn't really matter what she said next, because you were already in. In most recipes, the introduction serves the recipes. Jane's was the other way around. She wrote about the hybridized origins of modern strawberries in French market gardens, and how they feature in the mythology of the fertility goddess Frigg. After a few lines on the demanding anatomy of strawberry plants, she devoured into Jane Austen, talking about the agro-cosplay fruit-picking of the Regency ball-gown set. She refused to be complacent, especially about the things her readers already thought they knew. 'Strawberries, sugar and cream. The combination allows no improvement, you think?' Well, you're wrong. None of this would've counted for much if the recipes weren't great, but they really were. One week she'd give you smart alternatives to traditional Christmas cake-- rounds of meringue stacked with coffee cream, or Grasmere shortcake with preserved ginger. Another week it'd be the unimpeachable precision of carrot salad, celery soup or a recipe for ice cream flavored with cooked, puréed apples. The cooking was pantheistic and it dealt with everything from kippers to apples, parsley, prunes and fennel with the same care, even love. We get smug these days about how broad our tastes are, and to an extent we're right. But a newspaper now would never run a double-page spread of recipes for tripe. The magic of Jane Grigson is that though she was a smart cook, she was really a skilled purveyor of daydreams-- even if those daydreams were granular and exactingly researched. 'I sometimes think that the charm of a country's cookery lies not so much in its classic dishes as in its quirks and fancies,' she wrote. This included the esoterica of regional pies and rare apple cultivars. Something could be worthwhile without being useful. 'Walk into the yard of Château Mouton Rothschild,' began Jane's recipe for jellied rabbit, 'and you see a scatter of small fires. Some flare into the sky, others smoke as they are fed faggots of vine prunings.' Noisettes de porc aux pruneaux de Tours, crépinettes with chestnuts, carottes à la Vichy, angel's hair charlotte. She drew from the culinary canon as far back as Gervase Markham's seventeenth-century The English Huswife. ...more ”
― Ruby Tandoh, All Consuming: Why We Eat the Way We Eat Now

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“ It's just past eight a.m. in Seattle, but in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, Aurora's six kids are already hours into their daily chores around the historic manor house and hobby farm Aurora and her husband Will run together. Today she's in the henhouse, and she's propped me up in an empty nesting box while she gathers fresh eggs with two of my nieces. All around them I can hear the soft clucking of the brood as she and the girls gather eggs and gently tuck them into a basket she wove by h ...more ”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

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