Suggestions for Giving

I possess a fondness for the annual tradition of the gift guide.

Not because I find these useful tools in purchasing gifts for those I love (or at least, in the case of the obligatory work Secret Santa, tolerate) but because I am interested in the act of curation, of what is suggested and what is abandoned.

In that spirit, please allow me to offer a scrupulous selection of items to assist in creating, if not joy, than at least quiet satisfaction for both you and the object of your generosity.

A recommendation for all

 Small Victories by Julia Turshen. This remains one of my most fondly regarded cookbooks. I continue to cook from it. I continue to think it is one of the finest cookbooks I have come across. I have not yet had the opportunity to form a relationship with Ms Turshen’s new book, Feed the Resistance, but I have heard wonderful things.

A duo of recommendations for harried souls

A New Way to Dinner. This book was the thing that finally convinced me to start our meal preparations on the weekend, thus freeing up a lot of time during the week. The recipes are solid, but the real point of this book is getting you into the habit of making hay while the sun shines.

Simple by Diana Henry. This elegant, thoughtful book contains strong and rewarding recipes that reference global flavours and clever techniques. Even more pleasingly, the recipes in the book are accessible and practical, even in the context of the clutter of the midweek. Ms Henry is an excellent author, and passionate lover of food.

Resources for the vegetable focused

 Power Vegetables by Peter Meehan. This book, from the now sadly extinct Lucky Peach brand, is a smart and playful way of looking at vegetable based food. It does an appealing job of recontextualizing familiar recipes. It is also quite fun, in both writing and design, and would lead to some happy gift-giving day conversations.

On the Side by Ed Smith. Ignore the suggestion to just view this book as a book of sides. Instead, treat this book as an impressive collection of vegetable focussed recipes that work as well as the star of your meal as they do in concert with something else from the book. The design of this book is exceptional.

Final areas to investigate

As much as I would like to, the barriers of reality prevent me from reviewing every cookbook I come across. There are always a few titles that I am keen to see receive some attention and support.

Allow me to highlight a few titles that while not reviewed here, are promising and worthy of further investigation.

Sweet by Yotam Ottolenghi and Helen Goh

This beautiful cookbook is completely impractical to review: we would die from sugar induced madness long before we had cooked even a fraction of recipes. The recipe we have made, and the feedback from trusted friends, allow me comfortably suggest this as an excellent addition to the library of anyone interested in baking or sweet things more generally.

Dining In by Alison Roman

Disclaimer: I have not cooked a single recipe from this book. Yet. I have, however, mentally marked almost every recipe as being worth of cooking. Were it not for this and the general vibe of the book  I would not have the audacity to suggest this title to you.

But I feel very excited about this book. It excites me in the same way Small Victories excites me: it is one of those rare books which perfectly intersects a lot of modern thinking and approaches to food, and does so with style and confidence. I cannot wait to cook extensively from this book.

River Cafe 30 by Ruth Rogers et al

I rarely buy books on the sole basis of how beautiful they are. And yet I fell utterly in love with the celebratory reissue of the iconic River Cafe cookbook and could not resist. This book is an utter riot of colour, playfulness, and joy.

Imagine my delight, then, when in concordance with the impressive reputation River Cafe posses, the recipes turned out to be some of the most thoughtful, considered Italian food you are likely to come across. We cooked the baked ricotta recently and I am still, tuning fork like, vibrating with delight.

The Christmas Chronicles by Nigel Slater

December is, despite the reality of an Australian summer, the best time of year. It is a time of celebration, of reflection, of hope and of love. Since I was a child—and one with a very serious desire to receive a briefcase as a Christmas present—it has always been my favourite time of year.

The inimitable Mr Slater agrees: The Christmas Chronicles is a resolute love letter to what is, for many, the pinnacle day of the year. I am excited to return to this book in the middle of the year for a reminder that joy is always at hand.

Thank you

As a final service, I am delighted to provide bespoke recommendations. Simply contact me via the form here and I will provide some thoughts on an ideal title.

This will be the last post for 2017. I look forward to returning in 2018 with more reviews.

Until then, sincere thanks for your support and company over the past year. May you be ensconced in a sea of mince pies and champagne over the next few weeks.

On the Side — Ed Smith

I confess were it not for the jaunty yellow dustcover of Ed Smith’s book, I might not have picked the book up at all. In a world of the hyper attention grabbing photo cover, the simple playfulness of this book’s cover immediately appealed.

I had never heard of Ed Smith—who must clearly be a secret agent with such an anodyne name. A review of the author blurb, and the quickest of googlings, leads to the happy discovery Agent Smith writes a food website Rocket & Squash which I had been sadly, hitherto, unaware of.

Some of the strongest cookbooks have been produced by those who run food websites. Given the ease with which anyone can start writing, there is a terrible sea of content out there. As such whenever one website emerges from the primordial muck, it is normally a reliable indicator of quality.

On The Side, Smith’s first cookbook, is billed as a wide ranging collection of side dishes, the often forgotten, yet endlessly pleasing, supporting players in our meals. It is side dishes that provide the thoughtful counterpoint to the rest of the meal and can elevate the ordinary to the realm of the exceptional.

Yet despite my love of side dishes, I cannot help but feel this nominal focus—on food that is meant to accompany other food—is a slight disservice to what is inventive, considered, and enjoyable food.

Structure and Design

Hardcover. No ribbon.

335 pages split across the following chapters:

  1. Greens, leaves & herbs
  2. Vegetables, fruits, flowers & bulbs
  3. Roots, squash & potatoes
  4. Grains, pulses, pasta & rice

While we are chided not to judge a book by its cover, of course we will. I think the cover of this book is brilliantly designed and is a real rebuke to the reflective approach taken by so many other designers.

The cover—or rather, the dust jacket—of On The Side is tremendously interesting: there’s embossing, there’s debossing, there’s a cutaway corner, revealing the gorgeous red hardcover underneath. A large part of this book’s production cost must have gone to this splendid cover. And bravo to Smith and their publisher, Bloomsbury, for doing so. It would have only been too easy to produce something inane and charmless, such as the most of the books in Amazon’s bestsellers list at any one time.

The design of the rest of the book is not as bold, but is nonetheless impressive. The book commits to excellent typography in a way that few books do: after drowning in a sea of sans serif faces—including, ahem, our new logo—and after some not very pleasing serifs in some other titles this year, what they’ve gone with here is elegant, has personality and presence on the page.

Out of the cookbooks I have spent time with in 2017 this might just be one of my favourite designs: there is a sense of doing things differently, and not just doing so to be novel, but in the service of the principles of good design.

I also think the photography is exceptional: after some dreary examples—there’s a review I have been holding off on writing simply because the photography is so artificial and layered with filigree that it is terribly depressing—the photos in this book are incredibly attractive and make the food look beautiful. The book does the simple yet apparently quite elusive task of making the food the star. It is refreshing.

And, in something that has me moist-eyed with gratitude, the indexes of this book are thoughtful and useful. Stepping away from the convention of just one index, Smith provides a trio of additional indexes—or rather, to use his phrasing, directories. One is by main ingredient (so if you are making falafel for dinner you could see which sides are recommended), another is part of the kitchen needed to prepare the recipe (so if you are, say, baking bread, you can consult the stove top list) and the final is simply arranged my time.

All in all, the design of this book is beautiful and considered. It makes bold choices and those choices work. I am so happy that Smith has decided to abandon so much of the contemporary cookbook design vernacular and present something that is unique and valuable.

Thoughts

Sides are often the source of the greatest joy in a meal. And yet they are often criminally neglected. It is far from uncommon for people, when planning a meal, to pour all their time, attention and money into some elaborate piece of protein, and simply forget to give any love to the rest of the plate. Sides, if they are thought of at all, are often cursory and lacking any joy and thought.

This is a real shame. Sides give us such wonderful opportunities to show our creativity, and experiment with new flavours, approaches, techniques. In that they are usually cast in supporting roles, we should be a lot less afraid of failure and take some risks that we might not otherwise make. When I think of very good meals it is more often than not the sides I am thinking of so fondly. It is facile to create magic from a $70 piece of marbled wagyu. It takes skill and commitment as a cook to create magic from a cabbage and an onion.

This book is billed as a sourcebook for side recipes. It does not suggest to the casual reader that the book has greater potential than this. While I like the focus on sides—so few cookbooks give this area any attention—this does the book a slight disservice.

You should not think of this book as just a collection of sides: a word which, for many, might recall more the limp pub salad, with obligatory single industrial strength cherry tomato, than something of genuine excitement, than say a slow roast wedge of cabbage, stuffed with various delicious things, in the manner of Melbourne’s Town Mouse. I first ate that dish four years ago and can remember almost nothing about the meal (other than the agreeable company and my first taste of Patrick Sullivan’s wines) other than this superb cabbage. I have so many more examples.

I urge you not to view this book through a limited lens. Think of this book as a collection of excellent vegetable-focused recipes that can easily be combined for memorable, satisfying meals. The book does, almost covertly, make this much easier than you think: every recipe gives you two or three other sides that would work well together. These are in the context of providing a chorus of voices to support whatever the ‘star’ of the meal is. I encourage you to ignore any call for something else—you can, as we have done over many a night—make incredibly satisfying and wonderful meals with individual or small combinations of dishes from this book. The ‘this goes great with x, y, and z’ is a smart addition to the book.

At any rate, these recipes are often so good they would often outshine whatever you might choose to serve with them. I  struggle to imagine how anyone who cooks from this book would not, eventually, come to the same conclusion. I only wish Smith was a little more proud of his recipes and leaned a little less heavily on the ‘side’ angle.

The focus on these dishes being sides has a wonderful side (teehee) benefit: the recipes give a lot of flavour without days of faffing around.  Constraints often produce the best innovation and solutions. So, the constraint of producing food that is nominally meant to accompany other food (and thus cannot take five days to produce) has led Smith to create really enjoyable food.

Here is what we have cooked so far:

  • Baby Pak Choi with Sticky Garlic and Ginger (a perfect simple vegetable stir fry: the garlic and ginger gives real vitality to the pak choi.)
  • Black bean, coriander and lime rice (I made this with the corn recipe below. It was a fantastic combination, and one that just demonstrates the clever way Smith thinks about food.)
  • Buttermilk, dill and soy seed wedge salad (one of the stars of this book: an incredible buttermilk dressing, pickled radishes, sticky seeds, iceberg lettuce. I want to eat this forever.)
  • Chard with chilli, shallot and cider vinaigrette (my favourite recipe of the year, I think. I have made this on so many occasions and each time I am blown away. The dressing in particular is masterful. And it has almost converted my chard-averse partner.)
  • Chicken stock and orange-braised fennel (cooked fennel is a somewhat new visitor chez nous, but it is always welcome. The orange both enhances the sweetness of the fennel but also accentuates the savoury anise notes. Delightful autumn food.)
  • Chinese cabbage with black vinegar (Outside of Asia, the wombok is criminally underappreciated. It is the most wonderful vegetable: at once deeply savoury, sweet, juicy, tender, crunchy, silky. This elegant little stir fry is rewarding.) 
  • Chorizo Roast Potatoes (How to improve a roast potato? Add chorizo it seems! Don’t eat chorizo? Investigate Julia Turschen’s kinda, sorta patas bravas.) 
  • Grilled Tenderstem Broccoli with Umami Crumbs (I challenge you to make this and not consider topping every dish with umami crumbs. It’s genius.)
  • Honey, thyme, and lime butter corn (there’s almost a south east Asian feel to this the way the sweetness of the corn and honey is contrasted with the peppy lime juice and woody notes of the thyme. Morish.)
  • Quick cucumber and daikon kimchi (I met a Korean person who was just so enthusiastic about kimchi it’s hard to eat it now without thinking of their cheerful advocacy. I think they might have been in the pocket of Big Fermented Cabbage, honestly. Whether or not they would like this quick kimchi inspired vegetable pickle I will never know, but I certainly loved it.)
  • Smacked Cucumbers (One of my favourite dishes, although I think I’m so wedded to the Fuchsia Dunlop version all others, including this variation, feel a little wan in comparison.) 

Why this book?

  • You want to improve your repertoire of sides
  • You want an excellent resource of modern vegetable-focussed dishes
  • You want to support excellent cookbook design

Score

Nigella ░░░ Donna Hay Attractive, evocative writing versus simple and direct?
Ottolenghi ░░░ Barefoot Contessa Elaborate or involved recipes versus quick and easy?
Mark Bittman ░░░░ Ferran Adrià Can you cook the food every night or is it more specialist or obscure?
Gwyneth Paltrow ░░░ Nigel Slater Do you see photos of the author or photos of the food?
#Konmari ░░░░ Summer And does it just spark joy?

This book, nominally a collection of side dishes, is a tremendous discovery and is a welcome addition to anyone’s everyday cookbook library.

At My Table — Nigella Lawson

Unlike almost every other author and book I have reviewed here, Nigella Lawson needs no introduction. She is celebrated and revered from Osaka to Oslo and everywhere in between.

She has sold millions of copies of her 12 cookbooks. These books have been translated into countless languages and been made into TV programmes. She has been called the queen of the frozen pea, of the traybake. She is casually referred to as the Domestic Goddess. She has driven food trends.

Her abiding love of food, and a certain emphasis on how sensual and evocative food can be, has made her a cultural icon. She is referenced in films and movies and podcasts and other books. She appears on TV shows, as a judge or a host, with impressive regularity.

She carries a tube of Coleman’s mustard in her bag with her at all times.

To live in 2017 is to be aware of Nigella.

Her latest book, At My Table, came out only recently. This was a happy occurrence, but especially in the context of having recently published my review of Diana Henry’s Simple. In that review I made some claims that I preferred Henry’s food. Drunk on the awesome power of semi-anonymous internet writing, I even went a bit further and accused Nigella of producing recapped that could sometimes be a little lacking in terms of flavour and excitement.

Now, like every other internet writer, I subscribe to the strictest set of ethics and principals. I could no more publish a lie as I could enjoy raw capsicum in a salad. Or cooked capsicum in a curry. Or capsicum on a pizza. Or in any other form except blitzed into a million pieces as a sauce or salsa. This statement of preference was an honest one.

And yet, reader, putting this claim out in the world niggled at me over the following weeks. It seemed to fly in the face of my professed admiration for Nigella, and all that she has done for food. It introduced an unpleasant ideological tension that threatened to remain unresolved.

When I received my copy of At My Table, I flicked through with some trepidation. I was expecting to find food similar to the clean and simple flavours of 2015’s Simply Nigella (a beautiful book with food that simply does not summon a trace of excitement in me). As I got deeper and deeper into the book something wonderful happened: my doubt faded away and I started to smile. This was the Nigella I always wanted to see. These are the recipes I want to make! Finally, I felt there was a chance to have my cake and eat it too: I could both love the idea and image of Nigella as well as love her recipes and food.

Structure and Design

Hardcover. A silver ribbon.

288 pages split across the following chapters:

Well, ahem, not this time.

In this book Nigella has abandoned all chapters and gone with a stream of consciousness freeform presentation. Recipes are roughly arranged in order of the food one would want to eat first thing in the morning and ending in what you might want to eat at the very end of a day.

I almost panicked. It sounds like such an odd, unfriendly decision that would make the cookbook impossible to navigate and to conceptualise. And yet, as begins to be the dominant theme of this book, it not only works but works quite well.

And when it occasionally feels a bit difficult to either find something specific or to maybe get some inspiration, right at the front of the book there is a contents page that gives you every recipe in a single double page spread. I applaud Nigella and her superstar designer, Caz Hildebrand for the decision.

After heaping praise on Simply Nigella’s design, I must confess I think this is an odd looking book. The cover feels old fashioned. I respect not buying into the look of every other 2017 cookbook, but I struggle to find a positive thing to say about the cover. Well, it is a wonderful photo of Nigella, I suppose, caught midway through strangling some naughty sourdough.

I am lukewarm about the design of the rest of the book. I like the continued signature use of Futura. I dislike the serif font this has been accompanied by, and the mid-grey colour used. The combination of a dusky pink and an odd grey is hard to read and unpleasant.

The photography, from the renowned Jonathan Lovekin, is also I think somewhat variable, although never quite bad, even at its least inspiring. There are a few exceptional, memorable shots, which are a delightful to see. And then there are the rest of the shots in the book which feel occasionally dated, as if they  were conceived of in a slightly different era.

I simply cannot say if the design of this book is the real Nigella, or is rather some conception of what a book about home cooking should look like. I can say that the design of this book does not speak to me, which is a pity given the recipes therein.

Thoughts

This feels like Nigella’s most personal book yet. I have no way of knowing how true this is. But between the design, the recipe selection, the headnotes and introductions, and the two episodes of the accompanying TV show I’ve sneakily managed to view, I am left with an impression of this book being a pure distillation of Nigella.

As such I am delighted to report that the recipes in this book are very good. Cookbooks are always victim to the tension between whatever is new and current on one hand and that which is familiar and reliable on the other. Generally, cookbooks that try to appease one of these polar opposites at the expense of the other do not work well.

At My Table strikes an appealing balance in this regard. Yes, we get nods at that which is au courant: coconut oil and coconut yogurt are frequent visitors, and aleppo pepper gets a big push. But at the same time, we also get a nice serve of recipes from the other side of the spectrum: a queen of puddings is straight out of a meal at Toad Hall.

Happily, a great deal of success can be found in recipes from the breadth of this spectrum. We should pause to acknowledge this achievement and indeed celebrate all those who dedicate themselves to mastery of their craft: Nigella does something very wonderful, where she improves and refines her voice and vision in a seamless way. There is no jarring ‘old’ Nigella and ‘new’ Nigella. Instead, we feel rather than notice improvement. 

I do wish there were slightly more vegetable based main dishes. Not that there are none, but those that exist do tend towards simpler flavours. We have all been spoiled by such excellent vegetable based recipes over the past few years that the ones here feel a little, well, uninspired.

This said, the bulk of recipes are interesting and compelling and delicious. It is food that lends itself to happy celebrations around a large table. Food should be this joyous and fun all the time. This feeling is At My Table’s real achievement, and I congratulate Nigella for producing something so lovely.

Here is a sample of what we have cooked so far (there is a sad omission of anything from the desserts section—our oven died at the most inopportune time.)

  • Turkish Eggs (Every book has the recipe. The one that you turn to again and again. The page that becomes dirtier than all the others. This is the recipe for this cookbook. Poached eggs on a garlic yogurt bed, topped with aleppo pepper butter.) 
  • Golden Egg Curry (Curries in past Nigella books have been somewhat less adventurous in their flavour profiles than I would prefer. This, however, was bold and aromatic and delicious.)
  • Catalan Toasts (not an improvement on my standard pan con tomate recipe. But certainly not bad.)
  • Beef and eggplant fatteh (If you like textural contrast, please make this. If you like delicious food, please make this. It is easy, it makes an excellent lunch the next day, it is delicious.)
  • Pasta with anchovies, tomatoes, mascarpone (I have long maintained that the only good tomato sauce is one that is cooked down and reduced, such that the flavour of unexceptional tomatoes becomes exceptional. This sauce was a clever way of creating a pasta dish that is savoury, rich enough and with a lot of personality without having to cook the thing for five years. I did fail in finding the nominated novel pasta shape, however. Forgive me, Signora Nigella.)
  • Capellini with Scallops (Success in finding the novelty pasta! Yet I thought this not quite the best way to showcase beautiful scallops.)
  • Radiatori with Sausage and Saffron (Another failure in the novel pasta game. And also a failure in including saffron. Despite these failures, the dish was quite delightful. The sweetness of passata is a pleasing counterpoint to the complexity of a good italian sausage.)
  • Sweet Potato Tacos (I made this almost as a joke. I thought surely it would turn out awfully. Never has the gap between my expectations and the end result been so sizeable. I want to make this again. It just works.)
  • Bashed Cucumber and Radish Salad (Simple and clean. I have, however, eaten so much of the garlic and black vinegar sichuan version of this salad that I felt this was a little too placid.)
  • Coriander and Jalapeno Salsa and Red-hot Roast Salsa (These two salsas should be in everyone’s fridge. Yes the coriander salsa quickly loses its verdant quality and becomes a more murky shade, but the flavours, oh the flavours, remain intact. The red salsa is a fantastic variation on the theme of roast tomato salsa.)
  • Coconut Shrimp (Real talk alert: You should make these. You should not, under any circumstances, make the suggested coconut yogurt dipping sauce. Serve these with some Kewpie mayonnaise or some hot sauce. Or combine kewpie, hot sauce and some yuzu juice. Just say no to the coyo in this case.)
  • Lime and coriander chicken (Okay, but in light of the other more exciting recipies in this book I am not sure why you would nesscarily bother?)
  • Cellophane Rolls (Ibid.)
  • Slow Roast 5-spice lamb pancakes (this exceeded expectations to a sizeable degree. If I could make a suggestion, make up double and eat this for twice as long. Actually, let me make a further suggestion: make some pickled radishes to go with your pancakes. While hoisin and spears of scallion and cucumber get you almost to flavour heaven, the addition of a quick pickled vegetable has a profound transformative effect.)

Why this book?

  • This is Nigella’s best book, potentially ever, but certainly since 2010’s Kitchen
  • You want a personal take on Nigella’s view of food – one that celebrates the joy of food
  • You want a collection of excellent and reliable recipes that balances the new with the familiar

Score

Nigella ░░░░ Donna Hay Attractive, evocative writing versus simple and direct?
Ottolenghi ░░░ Barefoot Contessa Elaborate or involved recipes versus quick and easy?
Mark Bittman ░░░░ Ferran Adrià Can you cook the food every night or is it more specialist or obscure?
Gwyneth Paltrow ░░░ Nigel Slater Do you see photos of the author or photos of the food?
#KonMari ░░░░ Summer And does it just spark joy?

Nigella taught me not to be ashamed of liking food to the extent I do. Her writing has meant so much to me over the years. Her philosophy resonates with me in that it celebrates food and life and pleasure in a way that refuses to give quarter to shame.

And yet because I’ve rarely cooked from her books, I have always felt a little bit like a fraud for being such a Nigella booster. I am, then, incredibly happy to report that At My Table is not just a great Nigella cookbook, but it is a great cookbook full stop.

Simple — Diana Henry

Diana Henry should be far more popular. I get the sense that outside of the UK, she is not as known or appreciated as she could be. This is not to say she languishes in complete obscurity outside the UK. Indeed, a glowing New York Times piece covered her output, something which is prodigious in both quantity and quality. Those that do speak of Diana Henry do so in reverent and knowing tones.

If I had to describe Diana Henry—and, I admit, writing a review does leave one with such a duty—I would liken her to another leading light of the food world: Nigella Lawson. I think both authors share a general approach and have similar writing styles. Indeed, the sticker on the cover of my copy of Simple certainly invites you to draw this parallel and make a such comparison.

I hesitate to say this because of my immense fondness and respect for Nigella, but Diana writes better recipes. And I think also has a more confident and modern palette and approach to food. I own all of Nigella’s books (perhaps when I get over my last every book from author x roundup I will do another one) and yet rarely cook from them. I only own a few of Diana’s recent books yet have cooked a fair amount from them all—and have loved everything I have made.

I have wanted to review Diana’s latest book, Simple, for some time. I became convinced I had to review the book after reading this unfair train wreck of a review. After all, when someone is wrong on the internet, something must be done. Of course, Diana does not need me to rally to her defence! Nonetheless, here we are.

Simple is Diana’s 9th book and is, I think, the strongest. The focus of the book is, as the title suggests, a collection of recipes that strive for maximum flavour at minimum fuss.

This is one of the key trends in contemporary food writing. Everyone, apparently, is super busy. And no one wants to open a cookbook that is filled with labour intensive recipes (or, even worse, sub-recipes!) The result is a proliferation of books aimed at cutting down the time one spends in the kitchen.

There are two ways this trend manifests itself: One, the sacrifice approach, results in nonsense books like 15- or 30- minute meals from the once joyful Jamie Oliver. Two, the smart approach, where books try to find smart ways of creating food with minimal labour and angst. Simple, happily, takes the latter approach.

Structure and Design

Hardcover. A glorious ribbon. Given the reported size of Diana’s cookbook collection it is no surprise to see such a thoughtful inclusion.

336 pages split across the following chapters:

  1. Eggs
  2. Salads
  3. Toast
  4. Pulses
  5. Pasta & Grains
  6. Fish
  7. Roasts
  8. Chops & Sausages
  9. Chicken
  10. Vegetables
  11. Fruit Puddings
  12. Other Sweet Things

The design of the book is simple and elegant. Generous use of white space, elegant typography and restrained photography all combine to suggest a polished, calming book.

It’s something that immediately invites confidence. Nothing in this book tries too hard—instead it is quietly confident. It is Obama, not a certain orange buffoon.

A few days ago on twitter I rallied against a trend in food photography: where a few ingredients of the dish are ‘artfully’ (read: artlessly) scattered around the workstation/bench/table to frame the finished product. So, a roast lamb on a platter might be surrounded by a few rosemary needles and garlic skins. Or an otherwise pristine photograph of a cake on a tray might be ‘enhanced’ by an oh-so-casual scattering of sugar and flour on the table.

A few photos in this book come close to this crime. However, in another demonstration of Diana’s taste, things are arranged to look more documentary than clumsily staged.

The majority of photos in this book are strong. There’s a real consistency between photographs that speaks to a single, compelling vision. The lighting and styling is consistent, but not to the point of monomania. The photos are delightful.

I do think the type sizing is slightly smaller than would be ideal—cookbook designers, I suspect, forget that cookbooks are often used at much greater distance than regular books: so while size 9 type might be perfect in a novel held close to the head, size 9 type in a cookbook is far from ideal. I tend to end up squinting a lot while trying to cook from books like these.

There is a risk that to some the design of this book might feel a little staid. Take the cover of my edition as an example: pork chops in a cream sauce on a wooden table, is a study in various browns and beiges. It is a bold choice if not a bold design. Yet writing off this book as boring or old fashioned would be a great mistake, as it is anything but!

Thoughts

Diana loves food. You cannot avoid that impression. I also think she has a genius approach towards the concept of simple food. Under her expert guidance, simple food is not joyless, lacking food. It is not food that has been dumbed down to the point of becoming bad airline food.

Instead, as the subtitle on the cover proclaims, the book celebrates “effortless food [and] big flavours.” At times, after eating things from this book, I was in a state of disbelief: it had not felt like I had made any obvious sacrifices or compromises, and yet I had only been cooking for a short while minutes and had produced something tremendously exciting.

Diana’s talent (or rather, one of her talents) is an ability to pick apart the core of a recipe and discard anything unnecessary. The results are full in flavour, but without the heartache you might have otherwise suffered.

Simple’s strength is that it is not trying to be a soulless “30 minute recipes” clone. The recipes do occasionally ask for chunks of your time. But rarely is this all active time: it might ask you to roast something in the oven for 45 minutes after say five quick minutes of choppin’ and slicin’. I think this is a perfect trade off.

In fact, some of the happiest hours in my week are when I have something simmering away on the stove, and I have a few minutes to read something or otherwise entertain myself. It feels like joyfully stolen time.

At the risk of pouring further fuel on the hot trash fire of a review linked above, I take exception to any argument that this book is especially British or especially fussy. Diana’s palette is admirably global. The book features recipes inspired by Japanese, Korean, Indian and Mexican cuisines. Yet, I do not feel this has resulted in inaccessible or overly broad ingredient lists.

Similarly, the food is not fussy. Anyone who writes a cookbook review website, and cooks from new recipes more nights than not, is perhaps not best qualified to make the following argument, but here I go: dumbing down food is a bad idea. Dumbing down concepts stops people from ever learning or expanding their horizons. It leads to incurious people with incurious palettes. This leads to people further considering skills in cooking to be unnecessary luxuries, which is by and large the problem we find ourselves in now. This leads to joyless “5 ingredient” cookbooks.

I think Diana’s recipes do not require anyone to be a graduate of culinary school. They do require someone who is willing to try, and to open themselves to potentially doing things in a new way. Call me a fool, but isn’t that just what we ask from our cookbooks? Or that someone more experienced than we are teaches us things?

So, no, the food is not particularly British or boring: I suspect that reviewer was using British as a code for boring. And nor are the recipes fussy. The book lives up to its claim of providing recipes for “effortless food.”

Of course, no cookbook can please everyone. I have found one or two of the recipes in Simple to not appeal to my particular tastes. Diana, it must be noted, does seem quite fond of a creamy dressing. I am a real acid-fiend, so these can feel a little tame and muted to me. However this is easily fixed, and in a way that does not suggest the underlying recipe was fundamentally incorrect.

Here is what we have made so far:

  • Parsi-style scrambled eggs (it is hard to go back to regular scrambled eggs after eating these, so utterly alive and vibrant)
  • Griddled courgettes, burrata and fregola (We cooked this quite early on, so I was a little weary, but the end result was texturally diverse and with enough interest to be far more memorable than expected)
  • Tomatoes, Soft Herbs & Feta with Pomegranate (A perfect dish for warmer weather: it would also make a smashing bruschetta topping.)
  • Root, shiitake, and noodle salad with miso dressing (an exceptional dressing and a fair salad. The dressing could become a real favourite.)
  • Cool Greens, Hot Asian Dressing (I am a firm believer in the life affirming powers of a gutsy nuoc cham—and Diana’s version went very well with crisp greens. The avocado was an unexpected but pleasing touch.)
  • Warm salad of squid, bacon, beans & tarragon (This was let down by the dressing: a muted mixture of cream, oil, tarragon and lemon.)
  • Mumbai Toastie (I could comfortably eat on this for the rest of my days. The ultimate toasted sandwich. I wonder if I can convince the owner of Melbourne’s best new cafe/bakery to add this to their menu?)
  • Simple Goan Fish Curry (I was terrified of this for some strange reason, but it turned out to be a highlight. Complex, spicy, aromatic. Very good.)
  • Pork chops with mustard and capers (I followed Diana’s instructions and bought the best pork I could find, so I don’t know if the recipe was exceptional or the pork was exceptional and the recipe did not get in the way of that. At any rate, I often lay awake at night and think about this.)
  • Spaghetti with spiced sausage & fennel sauce (There are many sausage pasta recipes out there. Some are good. Some are not. This is my new benchmark. The fennel added a sweetness that made this dish so memorable.)
  • Korean chicken, gochujang mayo, sweet sour cucumber (Grilled chicken thighs, spicy mayo, refreshing pickled cucumber relish. You could not ask for a more compelling package.)
  • Chicken with Haricots & Creamy Basil Dressing (Chicken breasts have it tough. And are often tough. However cooked carefully, lovingly, they can be quite special indeed.)
  • Broccoli with Harissa & Coriander Gremolata (I can always use another trick to dress up old mate broccoli and this was a good trick. Our Harissa was a little mild, so I would have liked this to have a little bit more of a kick.)
  • Tomatoes, Potatoes & Vermouth with Basil Creme Fraiche (I think the basil creme fraiche does not add a lot to this dish and could safely be omitted. Omitting to make this dish at all would be a shame and deny you an excellent, easy meal.)
  • Baby potatoes with watercress and garlic cream (Not sold on the dressing in this, I confess.)
  • Fragrant Sichuan aubergines (A really accessible and really bloody good version of one of the greatest Sichuan dishes: fish fragrant eggplant. I am near to drooling just thinking about how good this was. Fussy English food, indeed not!)

Why this book?

  • You want to make good food without diving into complex recipes
  • You have a global palette and get tired of eating the same sort of flavours over and over again
  • You want to make the best pork chop recipe you will ever come across

Score

Nigella ░░░ Donna Hay Attractive, evocative writing versus simple and direct?
Ottolenghi ░░░ Barefoot Contessa Elaborate or involved recipes versus quick and easy?
Mark Bittman ░░░░ Ferran Adrià Can you cook the food every night or is it more specialist or obscure?
Gwyneth Paltrow ░░░ Diana Henry Do you see photos of the author or photos of the food?
#KonMarie ░░░░ “Skinny Latte” And does it just spark joy?

Diana Henry’s work needs to receive greater attention. She has an amazing palette and produces books of quiet confidence. She understand what it is to be a modern home cook, and writes books for that market better than anyone else I know.

Sirocco — Sabrina Ghayour

If Sirocco was a cage fighter it would be a bombastic, no-holds barred affair wearing the brightest neon leotard ever. Luckily, it is not a cage fighter and instead an exciting and flavour-driven cookbook.

Given the state of the world in early 2017, everyone should be in therapy: a mid-century couch to sit on, someone with a smart cardigan to listen, and a view over a river or lake to cover quiet moments.

Of course I imagine therapy is expensive. Cooking is however much cheaper. And, in its own way, therapeutic.

Cooking requires a certain degree of focus and concentration. A wandering mind will result in something burning, or at least an assertive char. The best food comes when you are in the kitchen, both literally and figuratively.

The more you are thinking about everything else in your life, the less likely you are to create something pleasing. The more you are focussed on the sounds and smells of the task before you, the more likely you are to both enjoy the time spent cooking and produce something good.

Of course, the therapeutic benefits of cooking are not solely from this meditative aspect. There is something special about simply creating something. For those of us with office/knowledge based jobs where we deal with abstract concepts and intangible things, it is a relief to touch and experience something real. It is a direct and simple pleasure, one that comes from turning one thing into something else through the application of creativity and care.

And then there is the obvious joy of nurturing and caring for people. Even if you are cooking for yourself (especially so, in fact!), it is an act of love to make food. It affirms our existence and acknowledges that no matter the superficial differences between two people, we share an inescapable common biology: we all need to eat. Or, more succinctly, everyone poops.

Cooking from Sirroco has been therapeutic and a treat. The resulting food has been a balm for frayed souls and a celebration of life.

Structure

Hardcover. Two jaunty ribbons to mark your place. A welcome extravagance.

240 pages split across the following chapters:

  1. Introduction
  2. My Kitchen Pantry
  3. Brilliant breakfasts & brunches
  4. Light bites & savoury snacks
  5. Spectacular Salads & sides
  6. Mouthwatering main dishes
  7. Superb bakes & sweet treats
  8. Index
  9. Acknowledgement

There’s a certain exuberance to the design of this book. Scroll up and take a second look at the cover: it’s this eye-catching whirl of colour and light.

This spirit continues within the book proper. Colourful pages and graphic elements, vibrant photography combine to suggest a sense of culinary play and fun. This is not a ponderous or sombre book, but rather a book that wants to be celebrated.

It does date the book however: even though it was produced last year, it feels much older. In an age of more minimalist approaches, the design sticks out and perhaps not in the best way. The cover for the US edition is much stronger. It conveys the book’s exuberance without being quite so overdone.

Ghayour’s writing has a certain charm and excitement to it. It does not quite match the level of exuberance suggested by the design and the photography, but that is arguably a point to be thankful for.

Occasionally, the method for individual recipes is not as clear as it needs to be. Given the informality of the food in this book this is mostly no big deal: however there are a few recipes where this lack of thought becomes a frustrating oversight.

The recipe format is workable: the usual headnote, a two column list of ingredients (sorted in use order and with accompanying preparations) and then relatively dense paragraph by paragraph methods. It does not set the world on fire, but it works well enough. A more generous line-spacing could have helped readability.

The photography speaks louder than the writing. It is enticing. There’s an immediacy to the shots that is compelling. The photography very much builds on the theme of vibrant, intense food.

Thoughts

If I am drawn to a cookbook it is because of an uncompromising appreciation for flavour. I do not want delicate hints of this or suggestions of that. I want big fat wallops of flavour. I want bright, direct flavours. I am comfortable if you take away from this I have a simple palette. I am shameless in this.

This book adopts a flavour focussed approach. While the book is heavily influenced by the flavours of the middle east, there is some fun combinations and experiments going on, rather than an attempt for strict recreations of regional fare.

If you were expecting a book with a strong and authentic coverage of say Iranian food, you might be disappointed. If you were expecting ideas for delicious and tasty food, then you will be delighted.

This is what we have made so far:

  • Bread Boats (this is one of the examples were the method is not up to scratch: there’s no advice other than make them ‘boat shaped.’ It was also difficult to stop the egg cascading down the sides and over the baking pan)
  • Bacon Pitas (the breakfast of champions. The spicy mango chutney based condiment is the thing of dreams and would make a lovely addition to any dish needing a real flavour kick)
  • Spiced beetroot yogurt (good but not great – it felt ever so slightly flat and in need of just a bit more oomph) 
  • Courgette, Saffron & Potato Kuku (again, good but not great. That said, I have a bit of a bias against kukus so, it could just be me)
  • Za’atar & Goats’ Cheese Puffs (the perfect companion to an icy cold drink. Flaky pastry, beguiling za’atar and tangy, rich goat’s cheese. Morish but tending towards a little salty, although this is obviously dependent on which goats cheese/za’atar you use) 
  • Mouthful spiced lamb kebabs (recreating the flavour profile of say a lamb schwarma in a dish that takes even a slowpoke like me half an hour is a real achievement. The accompanying harissa oil was *thumbs up emoji*. Although the recipe does not suggest this, you would be silly not to serve this with sumac marinated onions)
  • Lamb buns (this remains the best use for leftover lamb I have found. The sticky, savoury, sweet lamb goes fantastically with a cucumber and pomegranate relish)
  • Spicy Turkey Lettuce Wraps (like the lamb kebabs, this is a clever, quick and tasty idea for a midweek DIY meal)
  • Apple, sumac, red onion salad (the combination of sumac and onions is perfect. The apple adds a sweetness that brings out the natural sweetness of red onions. And the lemon in the dressing stops the whole thing from becoming one dimensional.) 
  • Prawn, broccolini, feta and almond salad (while I have mixed feelings about using ‘designer’ trademarked (and heavily litigated) vegetables, there’s no denying this salad is heavy on flavour and shows a certain textural sophistication)
  • Turmeric & spice-marinated cauliflower (the tomato sauce the recipe directs you to make with this dish elevates it from fine to very good) 
  • Crushed new potatoes with garlic, dill, grilled scallions & peas (if I have a weakness, and this is not a confession, more friendly banter, it would be for potato salad. This version skips the mayo and is the better for it. Spritely and memorable)
  • Stir-fried Tangy Prawns (it is hard to imagine I have lived a rich life without ever trying cooked cucumber. This dish is spicy and vibrant and one of the best recipies in the book)

Why This Book

  • You want a book that appreciates and chases flavour
  • You are happy to overlook a few recipes that are not quite as developed as they should be
  • You love the flavours of the Middle East

Score

Nigella ░░░ Donna Hay Attractive, evocative writing versus simple and direct?
Ottolenghi ░░░ Barefoot Contessa Elaborate or involved recipes versus quick and easy?
Mark Bittman ░░░░ Ferran Adrià Can you cook the food every night or is it more specialist or obscure?
Gwyneth Paltrow ░░░░ Nigel Slater Do you see photos of the author or photos of the food?
#KonMarie ░░░░ A forgotten wallet And does it just spark joy?

 

You should buy this book. Why not buy a copy on Amazon?

Flavour — Ruby Tandoh

Flavour joins the chorus of books that seeks to refute the trend towards ‘clean eating.’ Such voices seek to make food fun again, rather than a source of anxiety and fear.

Cookbooks have a lot to teach us. No, aside from the obvious mechanics of how and when to apply heat to various combinations of protein, carbohydrate and lipid.

Cookbooks are guides for different ways of living. Do we buy into a world of 15 minute meals, where food is a necessary but joyless pitstop in our otherwise busy days? Or do we invest in a world where everyone makes their own jam and knows the village vicar?

Cookbooks are inspiration for how to live, as much as they are how to eat.

In some cases this inspiration is explicit: as in Balance and Harmony, Asian cookbooks often suggest a certain way of eating: something that is highly communal and features a few dishes. This reflects a certain lifestyle and culture.

In some cases the inspiration is tacit: the many cookbooks of Bill Granger do not exactly tell you to eat the food outside with a group of friends all wearing white jeans and linen shirts, yet you begin to feel the pull of this as you read and cook from one of his books.

Yet what happens if this guidance is confused? When one recipe pulls you in one direction–of say a no fuss 15-minute meal–and the other recipe pulls you into the direction of intricate and involved baking?

The central problem of Flavour is that it simply is not sure of what it wants to be—or how it wants to guide you. After having cooked from this book for a few weeks, I now see much clearer warning signs in this paragraph from the book’s introduction:

This book is for everyone who likes to eat, whether you’re a new cook or a devoted foodie, a fast food queen or a restaurant critic, old or young.

In creating a book that she hopes is for everyone, Tandoh has created a book that will appeal to no one.

Even the central message–that we should stop demonising and elevating certain (arbitrary) food types is lost in a cookbook that consists of a confusing mishmash of cuisines, techniques and approaches.

Structure

Hardback.

368 pages split across the following chapters:

  1. Introduction
  2. Vegetable and Herbs
  3. Fruit
  4. Eggs and Dairy
  5. Meat and Fish
  6. Storecupboard

Within each of these chapters are a variety of smaller sections. For instance, the Fruit chapter has sections for Apples, Pears and Rhubarb, Tropical Fruit, Citrus, Stone fruits and cherries, and Berries and Currants.

I cannot say whether or not this structure was Tandoh’s decision or her publisher’s. I can say with certainty it is a terrible system of organisation. Not being able to quickly look at similar recipes is painful. If you want to make something with chicken, you might have to look at 10 different sections under a few different chapters.

It is a hard book to browse: I have had to rely on the index to an unprecedented extent. Once you do find your way, things improve slightly. The recipe format is workable: a generous headnote (occasionally, far too generous, such that the recipe does not start until the last paragraphs on the page). The ingredients are given a column on the side, and the method is given in paragraph long chunks.

Tandoh’s writing is much stronger in the headnote than in the recipe method. This, I think, reflects the problem I have with the book: it does not know what it wants to be, so the writing is really inconsistent. It can be really chatty and go into far too much detail, yet at times glides over steps and omits helpful advice.

The photography is not bad, yet tends toward an out of focus, instragram-filter aesthetic. It is serviceable, yet you get the sense that food is rarely the hero. You can see what I am talking about on the blog for the book.

Thoughts

No cookbook is going to be perfect. Every book I have reviewed here has suffered from flaws (which I hope I have managed to convey in my reviews.)

I would be more willing to overlook some of the things that I have discussed if the food from the book was good. Instead, it ranges from fine (at best) to boring and uninspiring (at worst).

Despite the unclear focus and audience of this book, it does not seriously position itself as being something for those who are new to cooking. Yet the recipes for one dimensional, simple food often seem like they would be more suitable for a kitchen novice.

The first hints of concern started when I was flicking through the book. Normally I get quite excited by a new cookbook. It is a whole world of possibility. Within every cookbook there is the potential for a recipe that will change your life or become the one recipe. So I am often almost giddy when I flicking through a new book for the first time. And yet, I remember flicking through this one and just thinking ‘hmm’ after each page.

This, by itself, is not alarming. In fact, the opposite. The best cookbooks can turn an unlikely or underwhelming series of ingredients into something incredible.

So I persevered. We cooked from this. We gave it our best shot.

And, well, I am just glad this week is over, so I can stop cooking from this book. I have given it my all, and can conclude, sadly, it is not a good cookbook.

Here is what we have cooked:

  • Quick Broccoli satay stir fry (totally fine; something you would make, eat and never think of again.)
  • Zesty Chilli Prawn Noodles (the curious addition of orange zest does nothing for a dish that tends towards bland, stodgy, and goopy) 
  • Berbere roasted sweet potato (the spice mix is tasty and certainly enlivened the dish. While perhaps not life changing, this at least was slightly exciting to eat)
  • Korean inspired rice bowls (the recipe as it stands would have resulted in a very dull dish; I had to make substantial modifications. So the end result was actually quite nice, but that was more of a result of tricks I had learnt from Bowl then the advice from this recipe)
  • Roast garlic and goats cheese frittata (again, as the recipe stands it would have been unimpressive. For a book called Flavour, Tandoh seems so keen to avoid any accusation of that!)
  • Ghanaian groundnut chicken stew (one dimensional: if you like peanut butter and chicken I guess you will like this. If you require slightly more complex flavour profiles, you will not.)
  • Lemon Courgette Risotto with Summer Herbs (if you ignore her instruction to use arborio rice—the garbage rice—it turns out to be a fine risotto. The pine nuts do not add much.)
  • Warm Spiced Chickpea and Carrot Salad (see above: mediocre food)
  • Summer Pineapple Camomile cake (this was nice. the timing instructions were off (but given how variable ovens are, this can be expected. The pineapple curd was a treat.)

Why not this book?

  • Because it s confused – its tone, purpose and content is just all over the place
  • Because the photography is often lacklustre and sure to feel dated by year’s end
  • There are simply many other better books out there (in each of the categories that the book has a hand in)

Score

Nigella ||||| Donna Hay Attractive or evocative writing versus simple and to the point?
Ottolenghi ||||| Barefoot Contessa Elaborate or involved recipes versus simple and easy?
Mark Bittman ||||| Ferran Adrià Can you cook from this book every night or is it more specialist or narrow?
Jamie ||||| Nigel Slater Photos of the author or photos of the food?
#KonMarie ||||| Tax returns And does it just spark joy?

 

Notwithstanding the above, if you would still like to buy it, you can do so via Amazon.

Stirring Slowly — Georgina Hayden

Stirring Slowly’s subtitle says the book aims to provide “recipes to restore + revive.” These subtitles are usually marketing puff. In this case, the book succeeds at providing just that.

Writing recipes must be an exercise in compromise. There can be no such thing as the perfect recipe as there are going to be so many underlying motivations. One person is going to want a quick and easy meal, and the next is willing to spend five hours on a highly technically involved recipe.

There are considerations that are easy to gloss over: why has the author written a recipe in the first place, and why has a particular recipe been written in a certain way?

The recipe headnotes often seek to answer the first question: authors are often quite candid about the inspiration or heritage of a recipe. From a beloved family favourite to something shamelessly stolen from restaurant.

Yet there’s rarely discussion about a unique set of compromises (or to use a slightly less pejorative word: decisions) that are the DNA of a recipe. What has the author held back that they might do when making the recipe at home? What has the publisher or editor asked to be changed? Why this ingredient? Why not this technique? Why why why why.

Cooking, at times, falls into the realm of folklore. The great majority of people cook in a certain way without really understanding why they cook in such a way. There are some authors who seek to set out the science behind cooking with a view towards becoming a better cook. Cooking is, at the end of the day, a delightful mixture of chemistry, physics and biology.

Yet of course these considerations are potentially academic: if a recipe just works, as so many of the recipes in Stirring Slowly do, do we need to know the why when the how is so sufficient?

Structure

Hardback. White placeholder ribbon—always appreciated.

280 pages split across the following chapters: Introduction | Hints, Tips + Shopping | A Sunny Start to the Day | Bowl Food | Quick + Light | Low, Slow + Hearty | Versatile Veg | Bake Yourself Better | A Bit on the Side | Index

Firstly, a note of gentle consternation: white book covers. Why even. Like everyone else I buy most of my books online (books are an expensive habit). Invariably a white covered book arrives looking scuffed and a little worse for wear. This is as much a dig on online bookshops as it is book designers though.

To be clear, I’m not at all precious about these books once they arrive. I’m proud of splattered and creased pages. There’s even some crushed cumin seeds in the binding of my copy of Fresh India. But white covers, like white jeans and dress shirts, invite befouling.

The book is a tight, cohesive package. There’s very little that feels wasted or unnesscary. Most cookbooks (even those that have been featured here) have a few recipes that exist solely to pad the page count.

The recipe format follows a fairly familiar pattern. What’s interesting is that the ingredient preparations are within the body of the method itself and not in the ingredient list.  There have been a few times where I wondered what to do with a certain ingredient and then had to look through the entire recipe to know what to do. The alternative, where the ingredient list tells you what prep should be done for a specific ingredient (e.g. 5 carrots, diced) is sometimes easier.

However, pleasingly, the majority of recipes are keep to one page (or a facing spread). I don’t mean to keep harping on about this but it makes cooking so much easier.

The photography and food styling are strong, but sometimes lack a certain individuality. I was rapidly ticking off the boxes in my mental checklist of ‘food photography in 2016’. The photo of a juicy ruptured pomegranate (speaking of pomegranates…) on page 111 says it all. And I’m not sure if I understand the design distinction between the white bordered photos that accompany most recipes and the occasional full-bleed photo. This, though, verges on criticism for the sake of criticism.

Thoughts

There’s genius to this book. I’m not quite sure how Georgina manages it, but everything we’ve cooked from this book has been impossibly quick and impossibly delicious.

I am a slow cook. As much as I admire those who cook with professional effieceny and economy of movement, I simply cannot bring myself to emulate them. I potter, I stir, I taste and I take my time. Yet when I’ve cooked from this book I’ve been amazed by how quickly I’ve been able to get results on the table. And then amazed again when I tasted how delicious the end product is.

There’s a real effortlessness to the food in Stirring Slowly. It’s food that is not fussy or tired. It’s food that is exciting and almost magical and even a bit surprising. The addition of ice-crisped fennel and witlof turns what could otherwise be a trite pork belly salad into something nuanced and layered.

Let me repeat: I really don’t quite understand the dark magic at play that produces such great flavours so quickly. During testing for this book this week I’ve looked across the table at Nim with an expression of surprise and delight. It’s almost surprising given that the book is called Stirring Slowly which invokes a rather different mindset.

The recipes are aiming for a certain degree of nutritional value yet I do not think there’s any evidence of a slavish devotion to this goal (or, importantly, that there has been any sacrifice to flavour).

One of the key measures for how much I like a cookbook is the amount of recipes I want to cook from it. The ratio in this book of things I want to make versus things I could not see myself making is impressively weighted towards the former.

Here’s what we’ve cooked so far:

  • Wholegrain nasi goreng with spinach: the sort of rice dish you dream about whenever you eat bad fried rice. Tangy with lime, sweet and savoury from the kecap manis, and with a kick from chili, garlic and ginger. Plus the brown rice provides a very different texture than the usual white rice. 
  • Pudla: this was the only thing from the book I wasn’t wild about. Had we not made really exceptionally chickpea pancakes a few weeks ago, I might have enjoyed this more. The salad that she suggests you serve as the filling is a fine salad, but the rocket feels a little tonally inconsistent with the overall flavour profile.
  • Kimchi and prawn okonomiyaki: I’m always a little scared of cooking okonomiyaki. It’s not complicated yet there’s a pivotal flip in the cooking process that (literally) either makes or breaks the end result. Plus it’s too easy to make an okonomiyaki that is dry, bland and rubbery. This was incredible: tasty, moist, and with a knockout sauce. 
  • One-pan creamy squash pasta: the best cookbooks encourage you to do something different or to try something you’ve always dismissed. I’ve long been weary of the idea of one-pan pasta because I thought it was essentially cooking for idiots. It turns out I was actually the idiot because this dish was incredible. Creamy, earthy, vibrant. Perfect. I’m not worthy. 
  • Roasted chickpea, cauliflower and sesame lamb: this was I think on the table in 15-20 minutes? And had a depth of flavour that recalls one of my favourite recipes from Ottolenghi’s Jerusalem. However that recipe takes hours and this recipe doesn’t and is far more delicious than you’d expect. It’s the sort of effortless midweek dinner that you could serve to friends and they’d think you were some sort of genius. 
  • Sticky pork belly salad with fennel and chilli: okay this recipe lets you down a bit in that it does not encourage you to keep the cooking stock, which you absolutely must serve. Reduce and spoon over rice and any leftover pork (or in our case, altogether). Despite this omission (compromise, compromise, compromise) the salad is so good. The tender, sweet, sticky pork goes so well with a herb and bitter greens salad. 
  • An insanely good blondie: It was. I had always thought of blondies as incorrect brownies and yet again this book revealed the fallibility of my preconceptions. While it is tough adjusting to a world where I appear capable of being wrong, at least I have these blondies to eat and keep me going. 

Why this book?

  • You want to be amazed by how quickly you can make super great food
  • You are a little bit tired of the strictly predictable and want a book that encourages you to try new things
  • You want to make a very good blondie

Score

Nigella ||||| Donna Hay Attractive or evocative writing versus simple and to the point?
Ottolenghi ||||| Barefoot Contessa Elaborate or involved recipes versus simple and straight forward?
Mark Bittman ||||| Ferran Adrià Can you cook from this book every night or is it more specialist or narrow?
Jamie ||||| Nigel Slater Photos of the author or photos of the food?
Kondo ||||| Smelly socks And does it just spark joy?

 

You should get this book. And while you are at it, buy it from Amazon.

A Modern Way to Eat — Anna Jones

A Modern Way to Eat is just that: plant and grain based meals that show our increased desire to eat less meat. The book features updated versions of familiar classics as well as new ideas.

Normally I’m aware of where I first had the idea to buy a certain cookbook: it could have been a recommendation from a friend, or an article online. Despite best attempts, I cannot remember where or how I first heard about A Modern Way to EatWhatever its providence, at least I have it in my life, which is a very good thing.

Growing up the food I ate fell into a banal pattern of meat ‘n’ three veg—or more likely meat ‘n’ veg. I never questioned that pattern until I moved out of home and got stuck into the first few years of being a real person.

Still, it wasn’t until I started living with Nim that I questioned and rebelled against this template. As I became more and more interested in cooking, I moved from meat as the dinner norm, to meat as a supporting player to meat one or twice a week.

Constraints are a fantastic motivator for creativity. Having to go about the task of planning our weekly menu with an eye towards maximising plant-based food forced me to pay more attention to books like Ottolenghi’s super-mega-giga hit Plenty and less to the inevitable meat-based ‘main meal’ section of a lot of other cookbooks. It’s too easy to use meat as a crutch in your cooking.

I don’t think I consciously ever needed to be convinced that a meal without meat can be as delicious and satisfying (if not more so) than something with a hunk of animal. Even so, books like A Modern Way to Eat opened my eyes to a broader world of possibilities, and I’ve never looked back.

Structure

Hardback.

352 pages split across the following chapters: A modern way to eat | What gets me up in the morning | Food for filling a gap | A bowl of broth, soup or stew | Satisfying salads | Easy lunches and laid-back suppers | Hearty dinners and food to feed a crowd | Vegetables to go with things | Sweet endings | Cakes, bread and a few other things | Things to drink | Jam, chutney, stock and other useful stuff | Index | Vegan and gluten free index.

There are some delightful ‘build your own’ recipes in this book which I quite like (despite never having used). They generally take the form of a series of lists where one is invited to pick an item from each of the lists and hey presto (pesto?), you’ve just birthed a new star. Another form of these build your own sections is a core recipe with a few variations you can make on the theme.

Despite not using these, I nonetheless enjoy them because they provide further insight into how Anna thinks about food. Plus, it’s clever to explore ways of remixing food you’ve cooked from the book already.

The design of the book is tasteful and considered: a readable yet formal font; a scattering of pale green pages (mostly for the build your own type sections talked above), and wonderful, considered photography.

In terms of the recipe format itself, Anna employs generous recipe headnotes: arguably too generous, especially with the rather generous spacing between recipe title and notes (see the picture below). The end result of this formatting is that the recipe is often split across multiple pages, which is slightly inconvenient.

However her writing is clear, and the methods she writes are often simple sentence-long paragraphs which are a real doodle to follow along with while cooking.

Thoughts

There’s a wide array of recipes in this book. Anna has chosen both the modern staples of vegetable-based eating (grain bowls, bakes, composed salads and so on) as well as turned her attention to making more familiar food (tacos, hamburgers and pies) into something with a plant-based focus.

There are some touches that reflect Anna’s clear love for cooking: savoury caramelised corn is paired with sweet, spicy popcorn on a corn tortilla for a delicious corn-on-corn-on-corn taco. Or a panzanella-inspired salad, retooled for autumn by the addition of roasted roots (and the subtraction of tomatoes).

On occasion her recipes need a bit of tweaking: a dish of noodles, tofu and vegetables neglects to apply any love or attention to the vegetables. While easily remedied, these are a sign that you cannot check out and have to be paying attention as you cook.

In terms of hits-to-misses this book knocks it out of the park. Only one dish bombed: a salad of pumpkin, raddichio with an insipid date and balsamic dressing. The majority of food we’ve cooked from this book has been deeply enjoyable. In fact, there are recipes in this book that we’ve cooked 5-10+ times, which giving our habit of not cooking the same thing even a few times is significant.

Of course, there’s some selection bias here in that we’ve avoided cooking some of the more novel recipes. A pizza with a base made from cauliflower and ground almonds sounds a little absurd, while the goodwill rainbow pie just looks like slightly too much work. And the less said about cashew and chestnut bangers the better, I believe.

The food in this is never more complicated than it should be. The results are often more impressive than you’d expect. A cookbook needs to let you create food that is more impressive than what you might otherwise be capable of. This book succeeds in that it lets you create meal after meal which just ticks all the right boxes.

A sample of what we’ve cooked:

  • Dosa-spiced potato cakes with quick cucumber pickle: comforting yet made interesting through generous indian spices and a fresh, clean pickle 
  • Killer smoked tofu club sandwich: club sandwiches are a pet obsession of mine, and while this one won’t replace my go to (inspired by Neil Perry’s Qantas First Lounge version) it does serve the same cause very well 
  • Walnut miso broth with udon noodles: elegant, with a savoury depth – Japanese but something more at the same time 
  • Sweet tomato and black bean tortilla bowls: what might otherwise be yet another vegetarian chilli is saved through the addition of roasted sweet potato and cherry tomatoes. The end result is a range of textures and is morish.
  • My ribollita: since discovering this recipe (an incredibly powerful combination of tomato, kale, bread and olive oil) I’ve pretty much never thought about my old favourite Italian soup, the minestrone
  • California miso, avocado and butter bean salad: as you eat you recognise this as being something you might have, in darker days, made fun of. The end result is delicious and again reflects the very savvy way Anna approaches texture
  • Dhal with crispy sweet potato and quick-coconut chutney: there’s a recognition in this book that you can’t be lazy in making this sort of food. While others might have been tempted to call it quits with the dhal alone, the chutney brings vitality and zing.
  • Avocado and lemon zest spaghetti: not fantastic. I remember with generous stirring the end dish became sort of spaghetti cloaked in a green mush. 
  • Kale and black sesame sushi bowl: a stand out recipe in so many ways. Easy, delicious, rewarding. I’d happily eat it again and again. The rice is dressed in a citrus soy dressing and is very good. 
  • Tomato and coconut cassoulet: comforting and rich, this cassoulet feels both exotic and familiar at the same time, which is quite the magic trick. It has the deep, sticky savouriness that you might associate with the pan juices from a roast chicken.
  • Mac and greens: the love child of pesto and mac and cheese (although without the cheese in this case). 

Why this book?

  • You want to eat more plants, less animals (but don’t want to give up big flavours and satisfying meals)
  • You want to be able to throw a bunch of virtuous hashtags on your food photos
  • You like food that borrows inspiration from a whole bunch of different sources

Score

Nigella ||||| Donna Hay Attractive or evocative writing versus simple and to the point?
Ottolenghi ||||| Barefoot Contessa Elaborate or involved recipes versus simple and straight forward?
Mark Bittman ||||| Ferran Adrià Can you cook from this book every night or is it more specialist or narrow?
Jamie ||||| Nigel Slater Photos of the author or photos of the food?
Kondo ||||| A wet dog And does it just spark joy?

This was one of the best books of 2014. You should buy it!

And consider buying a copy from Amazon using this link.

Fresh India — Meera Sodha

Fresh India features incredibly exciting vegetable-based Indian food presented in an attractive and accessible package

Meera Sodha’s new book, Fresh India, is all about vibrant, vegetable-based Indian food. All the food is far away from the image some may have of Indian vegetable dishes: nothing in the book is remotely brown, beige or taupe.

The recipes cover both vegetarian versions of familiar Indian classics (panner standing in for chicken in a butter masala, for instance) as well as dishes that will feel new and fresh to even more experienced fans of Indian food.

Meera’s writing style is immediately accessible and engaging. Her recipes are written with precision and an obvious understanding of how people are cooking (and eating) in 2016. Not all recipes are quick or easy as the cover blurb promises, but the spread covers weeknight dinners as well as things you’d want to cook when you have more time available.

The book, published by Penguin, is delightfully put together. From the shocking fuchsia which lines the front and back covers, to the charming chapter illustrations, the book is clearly the product of a lot of love and effort.

Structure

303 pages split across the following chapters: Introduction | Starters + Snacks | Roots, Squashes, Tubers + Other Things | Gloriously Green | Aubergines | Salads | Eggs + Cheese | Rice | Breads | Pickles, Chutneys + Raitas | Puddings | Drinks.

Scattered throughout the chapters are some ‘value-add’ contents like menu ideas, presentation skills and some information on pulses.

The basic recipe format is a paragraph-long introduction, which is either the context of the dish or a little vignette from Meera’s life, followed by a two column split of ingredients (broken down by ‘part’ of the recipe) and method. The method is written in rather dense paragraphs which are not always easy to follow along, especially in the heat of cooking. Still, Meera’s clear writing means it easy enough to do the needful. The majority of recipes are given a gorgeous full page bordered photo.

Thoughts

The food from the book has been incredible. The dishes walk the delicate line between familiarity and novelty: it is exciting to eat something that is simultaneously comforting and exciting in the same mouthful.

A sample of what we’ve cooked so far:

  • Shredded Roti with red cabbage + carrot
  • Pickled Cauliflower with ginger + lime
  • Courgette kofta in a ginger + tomato sauce
  • Roasted broccoli with almonds + cardamon
  • Shredded Brussels sprout thoran
  • Tamarind + caramelised red onion rice
  • Beetroot raita

Each dish has been delightful. The courgette kofta were particular incredible: alive with spice and grounded by a nutty, gingery, sauce. The beetroot raita she recommends you serve with the kofta was, if not life changing, then certainly condiment changing: grated beetroot is stir fried with sliced garlic. This is tossed through creamy, thick yoghurt before being drizzled with a mustard seed and curry leaf oil. The colour and taste are bold, confident and something you’ll think about for months.

In the few weeks since I’ve had this book I haven’t been able to put it back on the shelf. Every time I open it I find more and more things I want to make.

Meera clearly has a keen understanding of what people are looking for in an Indian cookbook published in 2016. I don’t mean to imply this book is faddish and will be forgotten in a year’s time, but rather it’s positioned to leverage off the themes we see in 2016: instagram ready, vegetable friendly food.

Why this book?

  • You love Indian food but don’t want to eat another lamb saag
  • You want to do something fresh with familiar vegetables like broccoli, cabbage, potato and zucchini
  • You want to make pretty, tasty food that you’ll think about for days

Score

Nigella | | | | | Donna Hay (attractive or evocative writing versus simple and to the point prose?)
Ottolenghi | | | | | Bittman (elaborate or involved recipes versus simple and straightforward?)
Kondo | | | | | anti-Kondo (does it spark joy?)
Jamie Oliver | | | | | Diana Henry (photos of food or photos of the author?)

You should buy this book.