Martha Stewart knows how to turn lemons into lemonade – and, reportedly, prison grown crab apples into jelly. Perhaps it’s only fitting, then, that her first cookbook after her stint behind bars focuses on the world of sweet treats. “Martha Stewart’s Baking Handbook” (Clarkson Potter, $40) is a remarkably accessible baking guide from a kinder, gentler Martha. Think comfy polo shirt rather than a starched button-down.

With more than 200 recipes for everything from cakes and cookies to pies and breads, the enormous scope of “Martha Stewart’s Baking Handbook” rivals that of her classic “Hors d’Oeuvres Handbook.” Both books tackle notoriously persnickety subjects with clarity and authority. Stewart’s approach to daunting techniques is twofold: Give readers plenty of photographs and offer no-nonsense instructions. The strategy works as beautifully here as it did in the “Hors d’Oeuvres Handbook.” Both books are also just plain gorgeous, easily outshining more plain-Jane books on their topics.

But there’s a new down-to-earth quality to the “Baking Handbook” that makes it even more accessible than “Hors d’Oeuvres.” Photographs often show cakes, pies, and pastries in some charming stage of incompleteness. The recipes are, on the whole, simple rather than mind-bendingly complex (there’s only one wedding cake recipe, for example).And early in the book, Stewart acknowledges that perfection is less important than comfort: “For all the exactitude in making dough,” she writes, “much of a pie’s or tart’s appeal lies in its homespun qualities.”

While the scope of the book may be daunting, there’s plenty of hand-holding. At the start of every chapter, there’s a reassuring mini-lesson, with a list of essential tips and annotated photographs of special equipment and techniques. It’s a pleasure not to have to flip to the start of the book for these details, which so often make the difference between good pie and humble pie.

A modest dose of creativity – enough to enliven but not to intimidate – often perks up classic recipes. Apple-Spice Layer Cake is layered with a tangy goat cheese frosting. Blackberry Roulade is a simple, pretty homage to the British dessert called “fool.” And Zucchini-Cranberry Muffins combine two popular quick-bread flavors into one moist, sharp treat. The creativity occasionally extends to the method itself. Rather than making a caramel on the stovetop for Apricot Cherry Upside-Down Cake, she instructs us to cream butter and sugar together and spread on the bottom of the pan, then add fruit and batter on top. The result is just as delightfully sticky and caramelized as the classic.

Classic recipes don’t always get their due. Sometimes, the creative ideas interfere with the most important aspect of baking: nostalgia for familiar flavors. Would Proust still have remembered times past if the madeleine he had dipped was a newfangled chocolate-chip cardamom version? Here, there’s grated coconut in the banana bread and caraway seeds in the Irish soda bread. And why make sticky buns with difficult Danish dough rather than simple egg dough?

But most of the ideas are good, and there are plenty of them. Especially welcome are the simple, clever decorating tricks, from adorning white cupcakes with strawberry buttercream and small strawberries to curling thinly sliced nectarines into “roses” for the Nectarine Tart.

If “Martha Stewart’s Baking Handbook” is macro in scope and ambition, Peter Mayle’s “Confessions of a French Baker” (Knopf, $16.95) is micro. The author of “AYear in Provence” and other popular books set in the region, Mr. Mayle is as much an authority on France as Stewart is on cooking. The French baker of the title is Mr. Mayle’s favorite boulangere, Gerard Auzet of Chez Auzet in Cavaillon, who collaborated with the author to produce a pretty, pocket-size book about French bread baking.

But there are no real “confessions” in this book, despite the tantalizing title. Mr. Mayle’s introduction ends quickly, and then 16 French bread recipes follow. I expected a bit more, even from such a small volume. The bread-making secrets and tips were helpful, but perfectly common to any number of bread-baking books. What could have been a pocket ode to baking ends up reading more like a pamphlet.

I also expected savvier, more evocative writing from an author of Mr. Mayle’s stature. But unfortunately, his passion for bread does not waft through the pages. He also seems oddly unfamiliar with the basics of artisanal baking: I found it just plain odd that Mr. Mayle would surmise that the presumably terrific baguettes at Chez Auzet were shaped by machine: “I had always thought that the standard loaves were formed mechanically, by some kind of molding process. I imagined a conveyor belt with dough going in at one end and baguettes coming out the other.”

But “Confessions of a French Baker” does make a no threatening introduction to French bread baking. All of the breads are leavened with instant yeast rather than the complex and often daunting wild yeast that many bread baking books require. One basic dough recipe yields an enticing group of savory breads, from walnut and red wine to apricot and hazelnut. And at the end of the book is a delightful surprise: a list of wine pairings for each variety of bread in the book.

Baking novices who are looking for a little book on French bread will not be disappointed. And I’m sure the numerous fans of Mr. Mayle’s other works will be charmed by it, too. Me – I say that bigger in this case is better, and will opt for Martha’s tome instead.