"That'll mean knocking off all those cookbooks," Crosby said recently from his home at Matakana, north of Auckland.
And he has a plan - his own cookbook.
"I love cooking. Every month a group of about 12 of us has a boys' night.
"Each takes a turn at bringing along a chef who explains and demonstrates some aspect of cooking," he said.
The former Isle of Man TT and British 500cc championship winner and runner-up in the 500cc world championship has devised a format that will take his cookbook to an international audience.
"I have a picture of how I want to do it."
Not that he's about to reveal all.
"Let's just get over this first book."
Croz Larrikin Biker has proved a huge hit both in New Zealand and abroad and looks destined to be reprinted.
An extract is reprinted below.
Although his international racing career was confined to five short yet immensely successful years, he also left a legacy as one of the sport's great entertainers; many of his antics, experiences and memories recalled in his own inimitable style.
While there are insights into the darker politics and machinations of top-level bikesport, Crosby admitted to tempering his approach.
"It's easy to write how you feel, but you have to back it up with evidence.
"However, there is enough hearsay to lend weight to my arguments," he said mischievously.
For example, his failure to secure a second Suzuki contract could probably be traced to an incident in New Zealand during the Marlboro Series several years previously.
He was playing top Australian racer and acknowledged pool king Gregg Hansford "for Queensland sheep stations" when a red-headed US teenager wiped the balls from the table, leading to Crosby and a mate "refreshing" the American head-first in the gents' toilet.
The victim of the ducking later become Crosby's team-mate, whose contract appeared to include a power of veto ...
Moving on, Crosby said he was feeling "rather buoyant" over official sales figures - one national chain ordered 250 copies a week in the month leading up to Christmas.
But he has also been busy generating his own sales, travelling the length of the country with wife Helen, promoting and selling the book at motorcycle meetings and dealerships.
And back home, he has been dispatching daily orders abroad through his website sales.
Crosby admitted to enjoying his new-found success, and learning the publishing process.
"I had been thinking about doing a book for a long time and probably had about 25,000 words written two or three years ago.
"It was going in fits and starts until my wife looked at it."
The Crosbys were put on to a publisher and "the pressure was on".
"Talk is cheap but beer costs money."
Having agreed that a ghost writer was not required, Crosby set about his task.
"At first I didn't know what writing style would suit, so eventually I wrote it pretty much the way I talk.
"It seems to have worked."
On deadline, he delivered 187,000 words.
"I have two worn-out fingers. I was like a woodpecker clacking away."
But HarperCollins only wanted 80,000 to 100,000 words.
That was when Crosby learned the meaning of editing.
"That was a tough process. I struggled trying to reduce it.
"I felt I couldn't condense it without losing the integrity of the book."
The compromise was a finished publication of 153,000 words.
And the cookbook?
"I'm serious.
"When I built the garage it was divided into three; my workshop, Helen's space and a commercial kitchen," Crosby said.
