When I moved out at eighteen, my mother gave me The Joy of Cooking, and the mother of the guy who moved in with me gave me The Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook (her own wedding gift edition, I'm guessing, in the original gingham cover) and an English cookbook called The Family Cookbook in Colour (so's I could make Yorkshire pud for The Man).
Neither of these changed my life. I was too young and too complete a kitchen virgin to appreciate The Joy (which is far less of a basic cookbook, in my opinion, than most people think it is). My mother had never, and I mean never, allowed me in HER KITCHEN; she wants to get things done as quickly as possible, her way, without incompetents underfoot. (Those first meals of my own were very special ones! Lots of weird hamburger dishes, many attempts at familiar dishes going wrong, because the essentials of cooking were a mystery to me, and the Amazing Flaming German Potato Pancakes -- my mother gave me her recipe over the phone, and said "use a hot pan." Pour in oil, crank heat to Max, insert batter, and everyone get the marshmallows!)
No. The cookbooks that changed my life happened when the boyfriend decided he missed chicken. So I bought one. And as my hand slipped up its butt to retrieve the gizzardy bits, I became, in one fell swoop, a vegetarian, and didn't eat meat for the next ten years. I went and bought Anna Thomas's Vegetarian Epicure, and discovered -- cooking could be pleasure, creativity, an art professional or amateur -- that dishes had associations with fun times, or a particular party (something I'd known by instinct, but never seen articulated), that food was an adventure, not a necessity to be thrown on the table nightly, and that the "meat and two veg" or "standard casserole" was NOT the only way to serve a meal. (My mother also hates to cook, but has a husband and four children. She cooks well, but joylessly.)
Then, after some prowling through the curries in the VE, I bought Madhur Jaffrey's World of the East Vegetarian Cookbook.
And my head exploded.
No, not really. But I've never looked back.