by Kara Zuaro
(Hyperion) $17.95.

by Kay Bozich Owens and Lynn Owens
(Soft Skull Press) $17.95.

While listening to In on the Kill Taker, I have wondered what the dude from Fugazi makes for dessert. And I am genuinely interested in knowing what the drummer for Calexico likes to make when he's trying to impress houseguests. I'm a full-fledged music geek, and I care about that kind of stuff. But I'm also an enthusiastic food fan; I eat food every day.

And I'm not alone. Food and music have a long, loving shared history. There are bands whose entire existence is based on food: New York's Cibo Matto (meaning "crazy food" in Italian) have a deep discography dedicated to their favorite treats ("Sugar Water," "White Pepper Ice Cream," "Beef Jerky," "Birthday Cake," "Artichoke," etc.), and Japanese pop-punk act Shonen Knife survived for decades by playing catchy songs about everything from fruits and vegetables to jelly beans and sushi.

There's also a staggering list of songs inspired by edibles: "Peaches" by the Presidents of the United States of America, "Eggs and Sausage" by Tom Waits, "TV Dinners" by ZZ Top, "Buttermilk Biscuits" by Sir Mix-A-Lot—there are, quite literally, hundreds and hundreds of examples.

But the most succinct effort comes from California punk band the Descendents, who put it in the simplest terms: "I like food, food tastes good!" Of course a line like that would eventually become the title of a cookbook. It's too perfect not to. So I was delighted when I received a new cookbook last Christmas called I Like Food, Food Tastes Good: In the Kitchen with Your Favorite Bands.

The book comprises recipes submitted by dozens of bands and musicians from all different genres (Death Cab for Cutie, Battles, Silkworm, NOFX, My Morning Jacket, Ted Leo, and more). Some recipes are simple (Top Ramen), others are more elegant ("Mac 'n' Cheese with Lobster and White Truffles"), and most come with a story, explanation, or funny quote from the artist. I thumbed through the pages every night for weeks, mentally piecing together menus based on genre, decade, or other pointless themes—even without any photographs (a cookbook faux pas, in my opinion), it remains one of my favorite cookbooks.

Clearly recognizing a new niche, a second rock-and-roll cookbook recently hit the market. Lost in the Supermarket: An Indie Rock Cookbook was released earlier this year, and it does pretty much the same thing I Like Food does by offering up recipes from rock stars—including Guy Picciotto's favorite dessert, "Guy's Rhubarb Crumble," and the Calexico drummer's "Pasta Convertino," a spicy pasta dish with broccoli and asparagus.

Even though Lost in the Supermarket is a thoughtful attempt to combine the two necessities of life, it was obviously put together by a music fan for other music fans, with the "cookbook" aspect taking a backseat to the "indie rock" portion. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But, from a cooking standpoint, some recipes included in Lost in the Supermarket are just plain useless, no doubt included solely to entertain. Example: The utterly depressing and deconstructed pop band Xiu Xiu submitted a recipe for tofu. That's it, just tofu, for which there are four steps:

1. Take a cold block of tofu out of the fridge.

2. Wash it off.

3. Eat it with a fork.

4. Stare out the window.

New York's Japanther also aimed a little low with their four-ingredient contribution—"Matt's Ultra Healthy Hot Dog" is simply a banana on a piece of whole-wheat bread spread with peanut butter and a drizzle of honey on top (like mustard, they say).

It's fun to read these submissions, especially if you're a fan of the band, but they do very little to make a reader want to get off the couch and cook. And isn't that what a cookbook is supposed to do?

But not everything is a wash. "Valerie's Apple-Potato Gratin" (submitted by the band Lali Puna), was a simple-enough recipe that produced a rich, warm, and wonderful thing to eat on a cold December night. The apples got all sweet and mushy between the layers of creamy potatoes, and it only cost about 12 bucks to make a whole casserole dish full. (A slight annoyance was that the recipe didn't come with a few important details... like at what temperature to bake it. So for future reference, 375 degrees worked well for me.)

The Prids' "Vegan Cran-Temp-Avo Sandwiches"—an easy six-step sandwich of fried-up tempeh, cranberry sauce, and avocado crammed between two thick slices of potato bread (which they recommend, for the sweetness)—was one of the best tempeh sandwiches I'd ever eaten. I've only ever had tempeh in a savory setting—who knew it worked so well with fruit?

There are also a few more challenging projects, for those who have a whole afternoon to dedicate to the kitchen: Sonic Youth shared their recipe for "Italian Wedding Soup," which, they say, is "a winter favorite at their house," and noisy Pengo offers up "John's Mexican Lasagna" best prepared in three parts.

Still, most recipes are either obvious, traditional, and/or not that tasty. (Raw, plain tofu? No, thank you!) But there was one lesson I learned: Not everything Belle and Sebastian do is completely boring. On a chilly night, I decided to try their "Thai Sweet Potato Soup." It was motherfucking delicious! Lemongrass, ginger, coconut milk, red curry, sweet potatoes—the creamy and bright-orange soup had far more character than any of their songs.

I might hate your boring music, Belle and Sebastian, but your soup was heavenly! (Although it needed a little salt.)