Writing is a solitary endeavor involving endless days and nights spent in the company of one’s thoughts, tapping away at the keyboard—and, in the case of the book you now hold in your hands, conducting low-grade science experiments on my kitchen counter—hoping all the while that what emerges will appeal to readers. But the writing process is just one of several steps necessary to publish a book, each of which depends on the expertise of many other people along the way. This is a grateful acknowledgment of the efforts of the talented professionals who did their part (and then some) to make my late-night ramblings make sense. It goes without saying that whatever gaffes remain in the pages of this book are here despite their efforts and are my responsibility entirely.
Sasquatch Books is home to a talented group of publishing professionals, and I am grateful to them all for making the writing of this book such a pleasure. In particular, I want to thank editorial director Jen Worick, whose calm wisdom was a beacon to me throughout the writing of the manuscript; production editor Bridget Sweet, who lived up to her surname even as she worked hard to keep me on schedule and sounding sane; copyeditor Steven Blaski, whose sharp-eyed read-through improved the book in every possible way; proofreader Michelle Gale, who swept through the final layouts and brought them to a new level of readability; designer Tony Ong, who created a beautiful package that elevated the book into an object; the production team, headed by director Liza Brice-Dahmen, without whom the trains (cargo ships?) would never have arrived on time or with the correct freight; the preternaturally good-natured Jenn Rudsit, who diligently kept after me for marketing materials; marketing director Nikki Sprinkle and her team, for positioning the book in the marketplace as irresistible in every way; and director of sales Jenny Abrami and the amazing Penguin Random House sales reps, for making sure the book made the final journey to your hands. If I’ve left anyone out, I apologize, but I promise it is for reasons of space rather than lack of gratitude.
At home here in Brooklyn, I would like to thank my partner S. for indulging my months-long efforts to find useful combinations of common pantry items—there were many times when we ran out of the staples during those hectic days of experimentation, but she never complained, even when a few iterations of the homemade dishwasher soap didn’t quite perform as promised. Normally I would also thank my two teenagers, D. & D., for their forbearance throughout this process, but these days they are overwhelmingly consumed with social experiments of their own and don’t notice a lot of what goes on around them in the domestic sphere. Instead I will just say that I look forward to talking to them again when they are in their late twenties and again available for such interaction. Our cats, meanwhile, were instrumental in creating many of the household problems this book aims to solve and I am grateful for their grudging support.
Finally, I benefited immensely from reading the work of several other pantry pirates during my research for this book and am immensely grateful to them for all their innovations in the burgeoning field of all-natural solutions to everyday domestic challenges. But I must give a special shoutout to the great and brilliant Laura Westdale, a collector of human wisdom of every kind (especially the domestic variety), whose constant encouragement got me started on this project and saw me through to the end.