As the cookbook category gets bigger and bigger, one must ask the obvious question: When does redundancy begin to set in? Is there really anything new under the sun? And if there is, do we really need it? Will anything actually help us get dinner on the table, or is it more gastronomic escapism?

Two books just published seem to beg that question more than most. “Kitchen Sense: More Than 600 Recipes To Make You a Great Home Cook” (Clarkson Potter, $35), by Mitchell Davis, is an everything-you-need-to-know cookbook — there are plenty of those on the market. And Ruth Rogers and Rose Gray’s “Italian Two Easy: Simple Recipes From the London River Cafe” (Clarkson Potter, $37.50) is a just sequel to last year’s “River Café Italian Easy.”

But both books manage to be surprisingly original.

Take “Kitchen Sense.” Despite boasting more than 600 recipes, this is no “Joy of Cooking” clone. It covers plenty of ground, true — if you need a recipe for pesto or roast turkey, you’ll find it here. But like Lora Zarubin’s “I Am Almost Always Hungry” and Roy Finamore’s “Tasty,” “Kitchen Sense” is idiosyncratic rather than encyclopedic, a snapshot of a food-obsessed home cook’s personal preferences.

Mr. Davis wanders freely (as so many of us do in New York) among varying culinary traditions, from Spanish potato omelet for breakfast and pastitsio for lunch to Moroccan-spiced meatballs for dinner. He also spruces up American foods that have, because of fashion or fad, been forgotten, like chicken and dumplings and veal paprikash. Mr. Davis’s mother is lovingly remembered in the book, as well, as he shares traditional and modern Jewish recipes like braised flanken (aka short ribs) and halvah pot de crème.

Mr. Davis is opinionated and confident in the kitchen. His “Ultimate Macaroni and Cheese” is one of the best I’ve tried, thanks to a secret ingredient, cream cheese. He resolutely defends veal parmesan from the food snobs who declare it suitable only for “spaghetti joints in Little Italy.” He bastes his vanilla cakes in homemade herb syrups for extra flavor.

Alongside the savvy recipes, there are boxes of “Kitchen Sense” — mini-lessons on easy-to-forget skills like poaching fish, soaking beans, and making perfect pie dough. Little tricks and unexpected touches also add charm to the book. Mr. Davis makes vinaigrette with the juice from a jar of pickled beets. He shares his quince paste recipe — and then suggests thinning it with riesling to make a filling for sandwich cookies.

“Italian Two Easy” also manages to be more interesting than it appears at first glance. The book is organized almost exactly like Ms. Rogers and Ms. Gray’s 2005 book, “River Café Italian Easy,” a book of stylish but stripped-down Italian recipes from their renowned London restaurant. The recipes themselves are fearlessly minimalist, too — there are few headnotes, and the instructions are almost too concise. Instead, the authors rely on great ideas and vibrant photography to seduce the reader.

There’s no better inspiration for Italian food than, well, Italy, and the English don’t even have to cross the pond to get there. Ms. Rogers and Ms. Gray take full advantage of the proximity, gathering a fresh batch of ideas for “Italian Two Easy” from plain and fancy restaurants there. The unusual combination of linguine with clams, shaved white asparagus, and a touch of cinnamon comes from Verona’s famous Osteria all’Oste Scuro, while a soup made solely from broccoli rabe, garlic, Lambrusco red wine, and extra-virgin olive oil (a truly impressive antioxidant cocktail) comes from “a tiny, family-run restaurant situated in an old dairy in the market in Milan.”

These recipes may be simple, but they’re also clever about color and texture. A simple salad boasts a gorgeous orange-red-green color scheme from bottarga,cherry tomatoes, and mache. Creamy ditaloni pasta (the size and shape of hollow pencil erasers) is paired with steamed mussel meat that’s almost the same size. Even the clichéd prosciutto and melon combination is spruced up: The silky cured meat drapes all the more seductively when the melon has been scooped into round slabs rather than sliced into wedges. Rosemary-rubbed bruschetta soaks up the juices from grilled lamb chops.

Some ideas work better than others, though. It’s wonderful to include three dessert chapters in a cookbook (on baked fruit, lemon desserts, and chocolate and coffee) — it’s depressing to see British game birds like pheasant and partridge included in a chapter on “Birds With Wine.” And it would have been helpful to note that the American term for ca volo nero is dinosaur kale.

Though Ms. Rogers and Ms. Gray don’t mention how to acquire the fresh buffalo mozzarella that’s featured in the book’s stunning assortment of mozzarella-based snacks, I won’t complain. The ideas are fresh, too.