I am chronically late to the party. Telling Fergus Henderson how much I adore him is like saying, “Dang, that OutKast makes me want to shake it!” or “Sex and the City–so true, sister!” or even “The Internet! What a genius invention!”

FH has been on my radar since I worked at Prune in…2002?!…and of course we made his marrow bones with the parsley.

But I only really read his cookbook (yes, the one that really cool people had bought in England years before it was released here in 2004; I saw a British copy at Ali’s in 2002, at least) just now. Like, just this minute. Well, a little flipping through and sighing, and reading aloud to no one in particular a month or so ago. But just now I was sitting and reading, and practically weeping with love.

Just like one of my early favorite cookbooks, Soul Food: Classic Cuisine from the Deep South, FH uses “your” liberally, as in “Shred your cold brisket…” and “Cover your trotter with water…” It’s the cookbook equivalent of using “the” with diseases–the rheumatism, the meningitis. It conveys a lovely familiarity that makes you want to do everything the person says, and not be afraid in the least. (Hey, whoa! The author of that soul food cookbook is Sheila Ferguson–coincidence? I think not.)

So I could go through, quoting all the most lovable turns of phrase in Nose to Tail Eating (oh, yeah, that’s the name of the book, if you’re one of the three people who missed it), but…well, actually, I can’t. There are too many–from the equating of capers in the parsley dressing to raisins in raisin bran on to the final recipe, called simply “A Miracle” (“Here is a cure for any overindulgence, taught to me by my wise father.” And then it involves Fernet Branca and creme de menthe–holy crap), he’s just a lovely writer who builds this gentle, loving relationship with the food at every turn.

A warning: This book is not for the last-minute cook. The first time I flipped through, on the morning of a big dinner, all I encountered were warnings along the lines of “a dish which likes to be made a day before eating.” Perhaps the most extreme example is Dried Salted Pig’s Liver, Radishes, and Boiled eggs, which “requires 5 weeks’ advance thought.” Perhaps one of those weeks is set aside entirely for psyching yourself up to eat dried salted pig’s liver, but no matter–I trust.

But the Fish Pie recipe was the one, I think, that made me really, truly swoon: “Even just writing this recipe down, its soothing qualities have quite restored me from the fragile state in which I was.”

Fergus Henderson has Parkinson’s disease, to the point where he can no longer cook. It breaks my heart that someone with such a love, such an appetite, can’t hold a knife, and can’t commune with food the same intimate way he used to. His fragile state is chronic.

But his mind is still sharp. I see he has just written a second book: Beyond Nose to Tail: More Omnivorous Recipes for the Adventurous Cook.

I’ll be reviewing that in about five years. Mark your calendars.

(Until then, visit the St. John Restaurant website, which has a Warholian series of videos posted.)