mad about bread and a giveaway

i've been pouring over these these two bread books for the past few weeks. one is danish chef claus meyer's baking book. claus meyer is a passionate advocate of nordic cooking, using locally-sourced ingredients and there has recently been a 6-part series of his nordic cooking programs on television. i am utterly smitten by his passion and enthusiasm as well as his knowledge of the traditions and ingredients  in our part of the world. the other is one of the wonderful river cottage handbooks. i've got this one on bread, the one on mushrooms and the one on preserves. i can highly recommend the books as very useful, accessible, well-written and inspiring (and no, i have no vested interest in saying that).

both books cover the ins and outs of everything from all of the baking accessories you need (i've got to get my hands on some of those proving baskets like the one pictured above) to the different aspects of the grains and how they behave in their various ways of being ground. i found myself hanging on every word and generally being fascinated by the whole chemistry of baking. wishing now that i'd paid a bit more attention instead of reading dostoevsky during science class in high school. and both books sold me on the notion of making my own sourdough starter.

so, about two weeks ago, i did exactly that. for the first stage, you take 150g of good strong wholemeal flour (rye, spelt, wheat are all fine) and 250ml of water and beat them up well with a whisk in a container with a lid. i used a large tupperware container. it would be ideal and a bit more aesthetically-pleasing to have a crock of some sort, but i felt all of the ones i have were a bit large for the task, so tupperware it was. then you leave it sit on the counter somewhere out of the way and you begin to check on it. the natural yeast that's all around us will begin to work its magic (perhaps within a few hours, but for sure within a couple of days) and you'll start to see bubbles coming up in the mixture. once you see those little bubbles, it's time to feed the starter, which you do by adding 150g of flour and 250ml of water (that's approximately a cup of each for those using american measurements). you don't have to be exact about this, just use roughly equal portions of flour and water. 

you continue this feeding for a good ten days. after the first two rounds, you should discard half of your dough when you do the feeding (or it will become a VERY large batch rather quickly), which is again 150g flour/250ml water, well whisked in, because you want to get as much air (and thus bacteria) into the mix as possible. the whole process is quite fascinating and daniel stevens (who wrote the river cottage book) is not wrong when he says that the starter will become almost like a friend - which indeed it will become if you keep it going endlessly like many bakers do (daniel knew bakers who had had their starter for 30 years!). you'll constantly be checking on it to see how the fermentation is coming along. it will develop different smells along way. mine currently smells like apples. but it could smell vinegary or malty or even like sour milk. get to know yours.

after about ten days, it's ready to use. both books have a variety of sourdough bread recipes and claus meyer's book actually advocates using the sourdough starter together with a pinch of regular yeast in any bread you make. i have yet to try that.

it requires a bit more planning ahead to make sourdough, as it requires more proving time, but it's totally worth it. i used the river cottage sourdough recipe, which is as follows:

before going to bed, mix (using the dough hook of your mixer) well:
650 ml warm water
500 grams strong white bread flour
and a good ladleful of sourdough starter

remember to feed your starter after you take some, otherwise you'll deplete your supply.

the next morning, pour the bubbly, rather soupy mixture back into the mixer and add:
600 grams strong flour
25 grams of salt

that may sound like a lot of salt, but bread needs the salt (tho' it does interfere a bit with the rising) to get the right crispy crust. claus meyer is a big advocate of plenty of salt in the bread.  mix this in your mixer with the dough hook - once it's combined, turn it up on high and let the mixer knead it for 10-12 minutes. or knead it by hand if that's what you like (i'm lazy, so i let the mixer do it). plus, this dough is rather soft and sticky, so it's difficult to knead by hand.

for mine, i used a mixture of a couple of flours, but you can use a regular high quality wheat flour, or mix in a bit of spelt or whatever you'd like. my starter itself has been subject to my flour whims in its feedings, so it has had snacks of good wholewheat flour, some of the nordic grain sorts - emmer, ølandshvede and svejderug along the way, so it is very wholegrain. but you can be as purist as you like, or use what's available in your area. whatever you choose, the starter will have the personality you give it.

next, the bread requires four provings (according to the book). i actually only gave mine two, because i had to go away during the day. and let's face it, four is rather intimidating.

the bread is baked at a very high temperature - 250°C/480°F when you first put it in the oven. there are a lot of instructions about spraying it with water and about putting a pan of water in the oven, but i'll admit i didn't do that (it was too overwhelming, but i will try it another time, especially after i sat down and read how that makes a good crusty crust). you turn down to 200°C/390°F once it puffs up (which it will do rather alarmingly) and the crust starts to brown. the recipe actually should make 2-3 loaves, but i made one giant loaf. mine baked for about 40-45 minutes, but it may take longer (i always think my oven is fast). you will know it's done by knocking on it. it just sounds done (vague of me, i realize, but try it, you'll see what i mean).  we ate it, fresh from the oven, with a fresh batch of hummus and i utterly neglected to photograph it.

this book can be yours!

and my adventures in sourdough will continue as i intend to keep my starter going for a long time to come. the best part about an established starter is that you can give a bit of it as a gift. plus, as it matures, it just gets better and better.

and to encourage you in your own baking adventures, we're going to give away a copy of the river cottage bread book right here (i somehow ended up with two - undoubtedly in a confluence of bad memory and amazon order button madness).  just leave a comment about your most memorable bread experience and we'll draw a lucky winner on friday, may 6.

Favorite Cookbooks: A Homemade Life

I’ve recently returned “home” to England after three weeks in Texas (my native home) – and frankly, I’ve been struggling with re-entry. We take pretty much the same version of this trip every year and flying there is so easy. We get off the plane in the afternoon, and even though we’ve been travelling for twelve hours, sunny skies, Mexican food and friends are waiting for us. It’s like an instant shot of adrenalin to the system. We feel revved up and full of energy for what is, basically, several weeks of pure pleasure. Flying back to England is a different story, though. We arrive in the early morning: dirty, exhausted and with a crick in the neck from trying to sleep on the plane. At home, there are a million things that need to be done . . . not to mention the piles and piles of dirty laundry that tumble out of our (many) suitcases.


Getting back into the kitchen is always a bit of a problem after a long trip. While we are in Texas, I positively revel in eating out. The trip becomes a checklist of all of our favourite foods at all of favourite places. I can identify with this quotation: “The only reason I travel is for an excuse to eat more than usual.” (A Homemade Life, p. 260) And let’s be honest: Every now and then a person just needs to be liberated from the demands of dinner – not just having to make it, but having to think about what to make, too. I make about 98% of what we eat in our “normal” life in England, and I usually enjoy it, but it does always take me a little while to get back into the routine. And sometimes I feel that way about eating, too. After a couple of weeks of stuffing myself with Texan specialties (steak, hamburgers, Mexican food), I don’t feel like eating anything but the plainest sort of food. A baked potato, maybe; or a boiled egg with toast.

Just before I left Houston, I picked up a copy of A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg. (You might know her from the Orangette blog or her food essays in Bon Appétit .) Wizenberg’s book is a foodie memoir – just the sort of thing that I like best. Her writing has warmth and wit; qualities which remind me of Laurie Colwin, one of my most beloved food writers. Interspersed with gracefully told essays are the recipes, which lean heavily towards soups, salads and baked goods – the food that I most want to cook, and eat, when I’m at home. With the exception of her potato salad and pickled carrots, which no one in my family but me would eat, I was tempted to earmark every single one of her recipes for immediate experimentation.

I guess that some people can draw inspiration from ingredients alone, but good stories always work best for me. It’s part of why I love to eat out when I go home to Texas. It’s not just the food; it’s also the memories lingering around the food. Reading A Homemade Life is just what I needed to rekindle my enthusiasm for my own kitchen. Although I’ve only been home for a handful of days, I’ve already made her blueberry-raspberry pound cake and her buckwheat pancakes. I’m got bananas ripening on the counter for the delectable sounding banana bread with chocolate and crystallized ginger. And I'm eyeing up the leftover Easter ham to make her version of a frisee salad with ham, eggs and mustard vinaigrette.

Funnily enough, the only meal that I made in Texas was a breakfast of pancakes and bacon when we were staying at a friend’s ranch. Although I can’t recapture the warm Texas breeze coming through the window, or the cups of good coffee, or the collection of friends, Molly’s buckwheat pancakes were really good, too. As recommended, I added blueberries to the mix. I doubled the recipe, and that was enough to feed me and three jet-lagged teenagers with bedhead. I had the two-day-old leftovers this morning and they were still surprisingly delicious.

** One thing that I can share from my Texas trip is my Mom’s tip for bacon. Instead of frying it or microwaving it, try baking it in a hot (400 F/200 C) oven. (Does everyone else know about this?) Just arrange it on a slatted baking sheet (with a pan/tin underneath to catch the grease) and bake for 20/30 minutes or until it reaches the desired colour and crispiness. It cooks evenly and crisply, and doesn’t shrink as much as with other cooking methods. It also makes less of a mess, although there will be a dirty pan to clean up. But hey, it’s worth it.

Child's play

At the beginning of June it seems an impossibility, but by the time August rolls around you can pretty much guarantee that your children will utter that universal phrase of childhood: I’m bored. If you live in a hot climate, this boredom will probably coincide with a generalized ennui about swimming pools and other outdoor activities. Children who were desperate to play in the sun can now be found inside, lounging and listless. Maybe it’s just me, but August always seems like the burnt-out end of summer – when everything goes a bit a yellow and tired at the edges.


Since I’m no good at crafts, and quickly bore of games, I think of baking as a good indoor activity. There’s really no such thing as a surfeit of cookies, because there are always extra kids hanging around our house – and we seem to have houseguests more often than not. I like recipes that are easy (childproof, even) and give a small bored person something to do.

This summer I’ve been making that pecan-studded shortbread cookie that goes under many names: pecan sandies, Mexican wedding cookies, sand tarts. I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t love these cookies – and that includes a 13 year old boy who is firmly convinced that he doesn’t like nuts. Even better, they are super-easy . . . but everyone who eats them seems to be convinced that I’ve performed some minor miracle. Best of all, this cookie gives lots of scope for small hands: rolling the dough into balls, and later, dunking them into confectioner’s (icing) sugar.

Here is the recipe that I like: from The New Basics Cookbook.

Ingredients:
8 ounces unsalted butter, softened
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons light brown sugar
2 teaspoons water
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose (plain) flour
1 cup finely chopped pecans
Approximately 3 tablespoon’s confectioner’s (icing) sugar

Method:
Cream together the butter and sugars.
Stir in the vanilla and water – thoroughly blend.
Add the flour and pecans, mixing until the dough is thick and creamy.
Wrap the dough in waxed paper and chill it in the refrigerator for 3 to 4 hours.
Preheat the oven to 325 F/170 C.
Shape the dough into balls the size of a rounded teaspoonful, and drop them onto baking sheets, about 2 inches apart. Flatten them slightly with the tines of a fork. Bake until pale golden – 20 minutes. (This is the bit that children particularly like to do.)
Allow the cookies to cool slightly, and then roll them in the confectioner’s sugar.

When they are completely cool, they will develop their characteristic melt-in-the-mouth texture.
Truly, this is an easy cookie to make and it gives very consistent results.



Another cooking project that I love to do with kids is cream puffs . . . or éclairs, or profiteroles.


They have that “science project” element which fascinates children. How can those few ingredients – butter, flour, water and eggs – puff up the way they do? Non-cooks are always amazingly impressed with cream puffs, but really, they couldn’t be easier. Not only that, but you only need a saucepan and a wooden spoon to make them. I use the recipe that comes from my old, falling-apart copy of the Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook.

Cream Puffs (an easy recipe for choux pastry)

Ingredients:
4 ounces butter
8 ounces water
1 cup all-purpose (plain) flour
¼ teaspoon salt
4 eggs

Method:
In a medium saucepan, melt the butter at low heat. Then add water and bring to a boil.
Add the flour and the salt all at once, stirring vigorously. Cook and stir until the mixture forms a ball that doesn’t separate. This should just take a minute or two.
Remove from heat and allow to cool for about five minutes.
Add the eggs, one at a time, and beat until the mixture is smooth. It will have a thick, glossy texture.

Drop the batter by heaping tablespoonfuls about 3 inches apart on a greased baking sheet. You can also form the pastry into long éclair shapes using your spoon.


Preheat the oven to 400 F/200 C and bake for about 30 minutes – or until golden brown and puffy.
Cool on a baking rack.
When completely cool, split them in half and fill with your choice of: ice cream, whipped cream or custard. (I like a custard lightened with about a 1/2 cup of stiffly whipped cream).

Cream puffs are generally dusted with confectioner’s sugar while éclairs are iced with a thin chocolate frosting. I like to melt some really good dark chocolate and then drizzle that on the top.

So delicious and SO EASY! Child’s play, really.

favorite cookbook: madhur jaffrey's ultimate curry bible

a few years ago in mumbai on a very quick shopping trip that brought new meaning to the term power shop with the most fantastic bargainer i've ever had the privilege to witness, i acquired an authentic indian spice tin. at the moment, it contains coriander seeds, golden mustard seeds, black mustard seeds, dried ginger, mixed peppercorns and cumin seeds. the fragrance when i lift the lid to transfer small spoonfuls (spoonsful?) of spices to my mortar & pestle transports me to exotic lands - not only india, but mexico, thailand, singapore and london. yes, london, because london is the ultimate place to eat a curry isn't it?

and when it's time to make a curry, i call both on notes that i made years ago in arizona during the only real cooking lessons i've ever had (with a wonderful indian friend) and on madhur jaffrey's ultimate curry bible. curries are warming and comforting and transcendent. yes, transcendent - with the heavenly, exotic smell of a curry filling my kitchen, i feel lifted above the mundane everyday.

if you've got staples in your cupboard - rice, chick peas or lentils, coconut milk, onions, and the spices in my spice tin, plus turmeric and a head of cauliflower and a tomato or two in your crisper, you can have a curry in the same time it takes you to make a boring old everyday meatloaf. and you don't even need meat, tho' of course you can use it if you want to. but i find myself turning to curries when i want to eat less meat, they seem to me to make vegetarian food more exciting.

madhur jaffrey, who was a brit TV cook before it became trendy to be one, presents curries from the entire spectrum - traditional curry places like india, singapore, malaysia, indonesia, thailand, but also south africa, kenya, great britain, trinidad, guyana, japan and the US and lots of places in between. there are some that will take your head off and ones that will soothe your soul. but they will all wake up your palate and and a put a bit more excitement in your everyday. if you love curries, or even just reading about curries and their evolution and history, this is the one cookbook you need.

favorite cookbook: tamasin day-lewis' weekend food

i guess i can't really get off the comfort food track at the moment as i battle the flu that's going around (swine or otherwise, does it really matter?). and the search for comfort food makes me turn to a favorite recipe in tamasin day-lewis' weekend food. it doesn't hurt that the darkness is upon us and a cold rain is spattering against the windows, because that sends me even deeper into nesting mode. so on saturday, i took down tamasin and made her stuffed cabbage in the troo style (p. 17).

it sounds a bit bland, a big pot of sausage and cabbage, but there is magic in the combination. and the simplicity is just the ticket when you're feeling a bit under the weather and just want to get back under the covers with your book.  here's tamasin's original. i'll tell you about my modifications in a minute...

tamasin's

1.4-2kg (3-4 pound) head of cabbage - savoy or dutch

675 (1.5 pounds) of best organic pork sausages.

salt

pepper

butter

preheat the oven to 150℃/300℉. shred the cabbage into thin strips, coring it first, and blanch it in a huge vat of boiling, salted water for five minutes. drain it in a colander and run the cold tap over it to prevent further cooking at this stage. butter an ovenproof pot.

slit the sausage skins and push out all of the sausage meat onto a plate, discarding the skins. place a third of the cabbage in the bottom of the pot and season. place half the sausage meat in a layer over the cabbage. continue with a layer of cabbage and sausage, finishing with a layer of cabbage, seasoning each layer as you go, and dotting the top with butter. cover tightly with a layer of greaseproof (baking) paper and a lid and cook in the oven for 2-2.5 hours.

julie's

1 head savoy or ordinary cabbage

675 grams of ground pork (i get the sausages as she recommends if they're available, but my grocery store doesn't always have good ones)

salt, pepper, butter

handful of thyme, sage, parsley (whatever herbs you have on hand), finely chopped

glug of white wine

4-5 medium potatoes, peeled and thinly sliced into rounds

core and thinly slice the head of cabbage. i don't bother to blanch it, as i think it gets plenty of time in the oven and doesn't need this fiddly step. mix your ground pork with the chopped herbs in a bowl, salt and pepper to taste.

butter an oven-proof pot with a lid (my orangey red le cruset is perfect for this - it's the ultimate pot, actually, which is why we have two). layer cabbage in the bottom, as tamasin does, then a layer of sausage, followed by a layer of thinly-sliced potatoes. repeat, finishing with a layer of cabbage. place a couple of pats of butter on top and pour over a good glug of white wine. in my view it has a tendency to get a bit dry if you don't add liquid and my liquid of choice is almost always wine. put the lid on and bake for 2 hours. it does seem to help keep it moist if you line the top with baking paper as she suggests.

i used to serve with boiled potatoes, but now that i add the potatoes to the dish itself, i tend to make a simple salad of baby spinach, avocado, orange pepper and a mustard vinaigrette to go with it. i also serve a good cider vinegar together with the dish, as a sprinkling of vinegar gives it a lovely zing that finishes it nicely. i once made it with sauerkraut instead of plain cabbage and my family hated it (i personally didn't mind it, but will admit it was a particularly salty sauerkraut).

tamasin is another of the very real brit cooks. her accent a bit posh and her aga to die for. her only drawback, as far as i'm concerned, is that she seems like a hardcore runner and as one who runs only when chased, i feel a pang of guilt watching the program that accompanies this book and hearing her talk about leaving dough to prove while she goes for a run.

paging through, i realize i have made a lot of the recipes in this cookbook, perhaps more than in any of the favorites i've listed so far. everything from sicilian peppers (i do love a good roasted pepper), to pasta puttanesca (could anything be simpler or more nourishing?) to stewed oxtail with grapes (it really works), to a simple aubergine, feta and mint salad, to cracked wheat and nut salad (i'm a sucker for a pomegranate) to roasted pumpkin and coconut soup, to her chocolate cookies (the only recipe i felt doesn't work--there's not nearly enough sugar in it, which sounds strange because it does call for 450g of sugar, but it's not enough) to her brownies, drenched ginger and lemon cake and homemade bloody marys. except for the cookies, it has been a success, all of it. and with the cabbage in the troo style, i go back again and again. get it, and i'll bet you'll do so too.

Favorite Cookbooks: Feast

Before Nigella Lawson was everyone’s domestic goddess – and truly, has there ever been a food writer more pulchritudinous? – I was a devoted admirer of her monthly food column in British Vogue. She has such a strong physical presence now that it is almost funny to look back and remember a time when she was a faceless journalist. Her writing voice was always very particular, though, and full of intelligence and enthusiasm. Each recipe was a personal narrative of sorts, well-peppered with opinions and anecdotes. I liked the way she preached a philosophy of avidity – as opposed to perfection. I also liked her culturally sophisticated approach to food. She could tell you how to do basic things, but she was also well-read and well-travelled, and that was reflected in her food descriptions.


I own all of Nigella’s cookbooks – except, inexplicably, Forever Summer (which happens to be Julochka’s favorite). It is difficult to choose my favorite amongst them, but my top two are definitely How to Eat (her first; and so exhaustive that she must have written it thinking it would be her only) and Feast. The sub-title of Feast is “Food to Celebrate Life,” and really, it does have an especially festive quality. Perhaps I have a soft spot for it because my mother-in-law gave it to me for Christmas one year. I spent many happy hours under the duvet, with a mug of tea, poring through the recipes.

Holidays can be fraught for the family cook, but this cookbook gives lots of constructive advice. Nigella will tell you how to make a Christmas dinner from soup to nuts (or gravy to sprouts) – not to mention providing guidance for the more specialized holidays, like Passover or Eid. This book helped me conquer my aversion to Brussels sprouts – de rigueur for a British Christmas, but previously loathed by me. The secret? Pancetta, Marsala wine and lots of chopped parsley. Recipes for Rhubarb Crumble and Cranberry and White Chocolate Cookies are now a part of my permanent repertoire, and someday I intend to take on the greater challenges of Hot Cross Buns and a Croque-En-Bouche

As I’ve been writing this, I’ve also been flipping through this book – simultaneously experiencing memories (like the time I made Massacre in a Snowstorm three times over the Christmas season) and desire (for all of the tempting recipes I’ve not yet tried).

favorite cookbook: nigel slater's real food

nigel slater's real food made a cook of my sister. until that fateful day when she made his fabulously simple pasta with spicy sausage, basil and mustard (p. 118), she didn't think she could cook. it was a transformative recipe for her. and happily, she was at our house at the time, so we got to be there to witness her transformation. and sop up the last of the creamy, mustardy goodness with a crust of garlic bread.

the simple alchemy of a few good sausages, separated from their casings and browned in the pan until they get a bit caramely, a glass of white wine (two if you count the one you get to drink while you make it), a pinch of chili flakes, a good dollop of tangy dijon mustard (we use a fantastic one with tarragon from a local supermarket called Irma*), and a quarter liter of double cream turned together with your favorite pasta is magical. a few fresh basil leaves strewn over the mixture before serving and you've reached nirvana.

this book is full of the kind of cooking that's easy, yet feels luxurious even on an everyday basis. you can do this pasta from start to finish in 20 minutes and it will turn out perfectly every time (if your sausages are good ones - that's key). it's become a standard dish at our house and we eat it pretty much once a week.

the book is divided into eight chapters, each one focusing on the good things in life: potatoes, chicken, sausages, garlic, bread, cheese, ice cream and yes, chocolate. what could be better than that?

another favorite that gets made regularly at our house is nigel's coq au riesling (p. 76)

that's garlic bread - photo merely for the sake of showing the stove where i cooked all last summer

a year ago, when i was without a kitchen all summer and had to do all of my cooking on the old stove above in the middle of our construction site, i made this recipe again and again. it is best slow-cooked for several hours in a big heavy cast iron le cruset pot. it was perfect, as it didn't require me to watch over it the whole time.

here's nigel's original:

50 grams butter
1 tablespoon olive oil (he likes that combo too)
100 grams streaky bacon or pancetta, diced
2 small - medium onions, peeled and chopped
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and chopped
4 joints of free range chicken on the bone.
200 grams small brown mushrooms, halved
500 ml medium-dry white wine such as riesling
300 ml double cream
3 tablespoons chopped parley

start the bacon in the pan with the butter and olive oil, then add the onions and garlic. remove. then brown the chicken pieces. add the mushrooms, continue browning, then add the bacon and onions back in, then pour in the wine and allow it to simmer.

nigel says to simmer for 25 minutes or so, then remove the chicken pieces and add the cream, cooking the sauce down til it begins to thicken, then add the chicken back in heat to serving temperature.

however, i've never done it like that (i'm no good at following instructions, you see). instead, after browning the chicken, i add the wine and allow it to simmer over the old stove for an hour. i've used chicken thighs. i've used a whole chicken (which i don't bother to brown). i've added potatoes or jerusalem artichokes (i normally don't like those that much, but they're great in this dish so in they go when they come in my organic box). i've generally put in a handful of thyme (it's my favorite with chicken). i don't always put in the mushrooms nigel suggests. sometimes i use a chardonnay not a riesling. i do add the cream in about 30 minutes before serving. and because it has a quite a soup-like consistency, i often serve it in bowls over rice. i've been known to put a few spears of asparagus on top during the last 5 minutes before serving.  it's a versatile dish. i actually made it for blog camp 2.0, so it's even good enough to serve to guests.

these are just two samplings from this wonderful cookbook. it's the second of my top five and one i definitely wouldn't want to be without.

* i'll draw a name next weekend from all who leave a comment on this post and send one of you lucky people a jar of the heavenly tarragon mustard from irma.

* * *

and do be on the lookout for a guest post from the lovely christina later this week! she's so fantastic, we just had to invite her to share some of her deliciousness with all of you. 

Favorite Cookbooks: The New Basics Cookbook

I have been given several cookbooks by famous chefs, but they tend to sit, rather dustily, on the shelf. There are cookbooks that I like to read, and then there are cookbooks that I actually cook from, and restaurant wizardry rarely falls into either category. The New Basics Cookbook, by Julee Rosso and Sheila Lukins, falls into both. My copy has food or wine splatters on many of the pages – always a sign of a well-used cookbook. It is one of my indispensable cookbooks – definitely on my “desert island” short-list -- and it so reliable that I will happily choose untried recipes for important occasions, without suffering from the slightest nervy qualm.

As the title states, you can find basics here: not only classic recipes, but also really thorough information on preparation. And, it is comprehensive in the same way that a Betty Crocker or Better Homes and Gardens cookbook would be – except the recipes are going to be homey and stylish. Although it was first published in 1989, I don’t think the food has dated at all.

I got this cookbook for an engagement present, and its recipes – for classics like carrot cake, beef bourguignon, osso buco and oatmeal cookies – are an integral part of my family’s eating history. Last weekend, when I wanted a good bruschetta recipe, I reached for this cookbook; it never ever lets me down. I like to give this book as a present to English friends; I don’t bother with American friends, though, because they tend to already have it.

favorite cookbook: jamie oliver's happy days with the naked chef

i think i have most of jamie oliver's cookbooks. i love his easy style and i find him very real and down to earth in the kitchen. i'm charmed by his accent (which i realize may say something about me that i don't care to delve into) and even more by his vocabulary. he makes me want to make meals that are pukka too. his recipes are easy to follow (or deviate from, as the case may be), he focuses on fresh, quality ingredients and he makes you feel like you'd be able to bung that up in no time, no problem.

but, the one of his cookbooks that i return to again and again is happy days with the naked chef. from the classic toad in the hole (p. 25) for a birthday brunch to his pancakes USA stylie (p. 40) on a sunday morning (we don't have bisquick here, after all, so we've got to make them from scratch) to the courgette (zucchini) salad (p. 96) as a side dish when the zucchini are coming out of our ears to the variety of dressings (p. 114-115) that i turn to whenever i'm feeling uninspired for that salad accompanying dinner to his stuffed bread recipe (p. 249) for which i've become mildly famous in our circle of friends...the recipes are delicious and repeatable.  because they're generally made with a few simple, good quality ingredients, they make even everyday meals like a roast chicken feel a bit luxurious, but are also special enough to serve to guests. this cookbook is in my Big Five (the other four coming soon) and is the one i always turn to first.

if you were to buy only one jamie oliver (says the girl whose new jamie america book just arrived), happy days with the naked chef is the one. you won't regret it.

Home Cooking

Right after I graduated from college, I worked at an educational publishing company for a year. At 23, I only knew what I didn’t want to be and what I didn’t want to do. Other than that, I was fuzzy about the specifics. A friend who I met at work gave me the book Home Cooking by Laurie Colwin – and not only did it make me a life-long Colwin fan, but it also gave me a strong sense of the aesthetic direction that I wanted my life to take . . . if not an actual career goal. I already liked to cook, and I already liked to read cookbooks, but this food memoir/cookbook gave me a strong sense of how I feel about food, which in 20 years really hasn’t changed much.

In the foreward of her book, Colwin writes this: One of the delights of life is eating with friends; second to that is talking about eating. And, for an unsurpassed double whammy, there is talking about eating while you are eating with friends.

Colwin’s writing has a confiding, friendly quality to it unmatched by any other writer that I can think of. For me, this book – and the follow-up, More Home Cooking – are the ultimate comfort reading. Laurie Colwin is a gingerbread and beef stew sort of person, and so am I. She is also the sort of cookery writer who would title a chapter: Repulsive Dinners: A Memoir. (You’re not going to get that sort of humor in a Martha Stewart cookbook, now are you?) It isn’t for the Heston Blumenthal types out there; it’s for people who want to make delicious, simple food for their friends and family. It’s for people who do most of their socializing from the kitchen.

foodie philosophy

Undoubtedly this reflects my own bias on the matter, but it seems to me that food is the most consistently available pleasure in life – and therefore, of utmost importance. Sometimes I am a teeny tiny bit envious of people who don’t really care about food – primarily because they tend not to have to worry about creeping weight -- but mostly, I just feel sorry for them. Food is love, and it is also comfort, and furthermore, it is the basis of most social life. In my home, it the basis of all social life. Even if we have to eat after 9 pm, we will all sit down together for dinner. I can be a slapdash housekeeper, and I will never wow anyone with the artistic beauty and originality of my domestic arrangements, but I do promise tea and cookies.

I am a cook who believes more in coziness than in perfection. I am more about the kitchen than the dining room. When I think of the food that I like best, words like nourishing, wholesome, comforting, savory and nostalgia come to mind.  I would rather have a good recipe for soup that anything super-fancy.  When friends or family eat at my house, they tend to say, sometimes bemusedly: Did you make this? Invariably, the answer is yes – because I have a deeply rooted belief that homemade food is just better. It tastes better, and it is better for you, and therefore it is worth the extra effort.

I think of myself as a “good plain cook,” but I realize that these terms are all relative. We all have our own mental parameters of what is too much bother and what isn’t. To my mind, making your own pie crust or lemon curd or fresh tomato sauce isn’t a bother. I think nothing of making my own meringues or choux pastry or cheese straws. (However, I would draw the line at croissants and pannetone, recipes that I’ve tried once but don’t intend on repeating.) On the other hand, I’m not that interested in preparations that involve beheading, deboning, or filleting. I once took a course on cutting up fish, only to conclude that I am just the sort of person who would rather buy my meat and fish ready for purpose.

Some people probably become interested in cooking by default – because there is no one else to do it, or because they are raised on such bad food that they rebel by learning how to prepare food properly. Mine was the opposite case. I grew up in a home that smelled (and tasted) of good food.

I remember coming home from school and smelling the heavenly winey aroma of a rich spaghetti sauce boiling away on the stove. I remember waking up in the morning, after one of my parents’ dinner parties, and greedily feasting on the cream puffs my mother had saved for me. I remember honey whole wheat bread, English muffins, and my mother’s special angel biscuits: all of those warm, yeasty smells. My mother particularly loved to bake and wasn’t that fussed about appetizers . . . and I have inherited these same tendencies from her. Although I spent a few college years living off of baked potatoes and bean and cheese tacos, it seemed inevitable that I would eventually acquire a KitchenAid mixer and a shelf of cookbooks of my own.

When I was a child, I used to sit in a gold velvet armchair and read cookbooks by the hour. I particularly enjoyed Helen Corbitt’s books – because she told great stories, had a strong point-of-view, and believed in the importance of soup, rolls and dessert. Also, she made it sound like so much Fun. She took great delight in feeding people. When I think of the food writers that I enjoy today – whether it is Nigella Lawson in London, or Rebecca Rather in Fredricksburg, Texas – I realize that they have those same qualities.

Very few cooks are inventors; most of us are just collaborators. I tend to get inspired by recipes, but then I go off-piste . . . partly out of necessity (maybe I don’t have all of the ingredients), and partly because I want to substitute according to my own eating preferences. I tend to favor the food writers who insist that every recipe is just a starting point. I also like the term “foodie,” because it suggests that the truly important thing is just having an interest in and appreciation of food. 

The best thing about collaboration is that it never really stops; I would like to think that every blog post is also the beginning of a conversation. When Julochka and I started talking about the idea for this new blog, the word “inspiration” kept coming up. Seasonal food, specific books or writers, our own food histories and stories, food politics, new techniques, adventures in growing and making food from scratch . . . these foodie matters are all part of the mix.

We all have to eat, but what a vast world there is between sustenance and sensuality! I think that food, whether it costs you in time or money or both, is the most vital luxury.