Handwritten Recipes by Anon

This week’s book is a belter filled with beautiful handwritten recipes. It was given to me years ago by my father, who had been given it by someone at the Fishers Hotel in Pitlochry where he worked in the late 1950s / early 60s. It has some age to it as 1860 is written in the first page. It really is a wonderful book. 

It has clearly been handed down through the generations (from around 1860 to the 1960s) and features lots of sweet recipes from toffee squares and sponge cake, to a Christmas plum cake in 1939 and a cake recipe from WWII.  Despite the fact that the handwriting is quite difficult to make out, the way it’s written is very special. I especially love the recipe for Irish stew using mutton chops.

My favourite page however—roughly halfway through, so possibly around 1900—shares a recipe for oven scones, crossed out with the words ‘very bad’ written below it. Brilliant. It shows how recipes aren’t always right, that people sometimes make mistakes, and how human we all are. A lot of these books exist and I wish they could be shared more widely—online perhaps?—as they’re a true account of what folk ate. 

You might not be able to add this particular book to your collection, but I do hope it inspires you to look out your old recipe book and have a flick through it, especially if it was passed down. It will put a smile on your face.

The River Cottage Cookbook by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall

The River Cottage Cookbook by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall is a book that’s never very far away from me. I lent my first copy to someone (I can’t remember who), so I had to buy another. It’s a real cook’s book, but also a book for the gardener, the smallholder, the market gardener, the entrepreneur, and the market stall holder looking to make a few quid by making something. 

I adore this book and have huge admiration for Hugh. He is a real person, a bit scruffy—yes, scruffier than me—and he genuinely cares about trying to get as many people as possible to eat good food. I remember watching the first series of River Cottage and thinking: that’s what goes on in my head, I get that idea. I would love to be able to live off my own land, sell some sausages from my pigs, eat parsnips all day long and chase chickens into their huts every night. 

The book has so much information in it, it's hard to know where to start. There are sections on veg, pork, beef, lamb chicken and yeah, there are recipes included but it’s the stories of why things taste better if say, it’s rare breed, or organic, or grown yourself. 

I still refer to this book a lot, to look up a pickle recipe or a cure for this or that. It is an encyclopaedic cookbook for the thoughtful cook. With a sustainable approach and a nod to using more local and old recipes and dishes. This sits well with me. His section on wild food and foraging is excellent. As are the sections on how to keep chickens or how to start a flock. You really don’t need any other book in your library.

Pâtés and Terrines

Pâtés and Terrines has offered true inspiration to me and is a great book for those who wish to have a good play in the kitchen, have plenty of time on their hands and have access to good produce. The photography is wonderful (Vaseline on the lens?) and yes, it’s all a bit dated now, but there are some very skilful recipes reflecting what we used to make. 

As this type of food was served in buffet-style, it had to look ‘soigné’. For example: a galantine of poultry with a flower—made from carrots, truffles and chives as a stem—accompanied by an aspic-based sauce called chaudfroid.  

There’s much more though. If you consider a pie a picnic item, then a rustic pastry crust with a chunky pork and jelly interior is a very welcome addition to a sunny day in the countryside, served from a wicker basket of course. 

When the book was written, the use of foie gras was normal (having been used since Egyptian times), but due to its production method, it has fallen out of favour. The breakdown of every recipe is brilliant, with easy to follow steps. If you master this book, or several of the recipes, you will be doing very well. I particularly like the veal and ham pie dish, served en croute. 

Written by four authors with vast knowledge, this is a must for the budding larder chef. I still use this book to be inspired and it’s a great addition to any collection.

Great European Chefs by Caroline Hobhouse

The skills and the inventiveness of European chefs are legendary, and the quality of the ingredients they work with is unmatched. Tourists and travellers flocked to Europe’s great cities to experience grandeur, excellence, traditions, originality and flavour. I spent many happy hours as a young chef looking through Great European Chefs—imagining working in some of these exotic places, especially the French restaurants where the greats were cooking: Vergé, Guérard, Bocuse, Meneau, and many more. 

I stuck closer to home and worked at The Peat Inn. It was great seeing David Wilson in the book. David had worked with Verge and a few more legends. Also John Burton Race from L’Ortolan, who I was interviewed by. We spoke about cars, and he offered me a job. It’s also wonderful to see Ballymaloe with Myrtle Allen cooking with proper Irish ingredients, and to know that they’re still doing what they did all those years ago. 

This is a wonderful book and very special as it was one of the last books with the greats in it. I love that there’s an image of each chef, standing in pristine whites, usually with his wife sitting beside him. The person who brought these masters together is Caroline Hobhouse, with photography from Martin Brigade, a well-known friend of many a chef. It’s a classic that will always stay in my mind. 

Some dishes are simple, some are very technical. There’s a pudding made with chicken in Turkey, a gratin of Arbroath smokie, and some very beautiful plates of food from Mossiman. I recommend flicking through it with a good glass of claret.

Wild Food from Land and Sea by Marco Pierre White

This guy has been an inspiration to a lot of chefs my age. He was so cool, different, bad (in a good way), a bit naughty, did things differently, had balls to go against the grain and cooked superb food. Marco Pierre White was on a roll when he produced this book, Wild Food from Land and Sea. It will be in most chefs’ libraries, and my copy is well-thumbed. 

His restaurants were the place to be in the late 80s and 90s. I fondly remember going on a date with the current Mrs Chef to The Criterion at Piccadilly Circus and seeing him sat on a nearby table, eating and speaking on the phone. This giant of a man could not have been more gentlemanly when I nervously approached asking for his autograph on the menu. It was a moment I shall never forget. I bumped into him a few more times afterwards at his other place, The Restaurant, and I always asked for his autograph on the menu. 

He had so many great chefs working for him, among them: Stephen Terry, Gordon Ramsay and Martin Wishart. He had a great team, allowing him to be everywhere. The ‘enfant terrible’, as he was known in the press, cooked very well, after his training with Roux, Blanc, Koffman and Nico. He knew at a young age how good he was. 

This book illustrates his simple yet complex approach to food. He always stays close to the classics and never strays too far away from combinations that work. That’s his secret I think. He does classic cookery with a modern touch, presented simply, but full of flavour. The recipes here are not too scary and the images are just wonderful. His soufflé is perfect, and the recipe for rabbit with asparagus and leeks is like something from a 1970s French cookbook, but made cool. And you can’t get anything simpler than his escalope of salmon à l’estragon: simply a piece of fish with a tarragon sauce, yet a very tricky dish to get right. 

This book came after White Heat, his first publication. It’s a bit like a band’s second album, but he succeeded in creating another masterpiece. I think his food is still very relevant today. 30 years on, and I still absolutely love his books. He’s a true craftsman and a skilled professional. I will talk about more of his books in the future, I’m sure.

Black Pudding & Foie Gras by Andrew Pern

This book is not only one of my favourites to flick through for inspiration, but it’s also a favourite escape for Mrs Chef and me. The Star Inn at Harome in North Yorkshire is one of the most beautiful parts of the country.

The thatched roof is the colour of the stonework on the cottages, the people are friendly, and the countryside is jaw-droopingly spectacular. Driving from the A1, before you get to the moors, you climb Sutton Bank (with the white horse), and suddenly it feels as if time has stood still. Everything is relaxed, the signs are written in local dialect (mud on’t road), and the local hospitality is excellent.

We’ve been visiting for many years and it has such charm. The book offers a slice of Andrew Pern’s masterpiece—The Star. It’s essentially a country pub dating back to the 14th century; a place for monks to rest between York from Whitby.

Sadly, there was a disastrous fire there a few years ago, gutting the old parts of the property. Thankfully, most of the Mouseman furniture survived and the place has since re-opened and is busy again. The book, Black Pudding & Foie Gras, is a great way to understand Andrew’s vision. He’s is a well-known character, respected by many great chefs and is hopefully going to continue there for a long time to come.

Andrew takes you on a tour of his turf, gets you under his spell, and carries you through hill, dale and rugged coastline to taste the bounty of the Yorkshire landscape. He also gives a nod to his suppliers, growers, breeders and artisans, showing he respects where food comes from. It’s a beautifully put together book, crammed full of stories, and covered in velvet! 

I love this place, it’s so very special to us. Yes, it has a Michelin star, but it still serves proper Yorkshire portions. We sometimes dream of living in the village, as The Star would be on our doorstep. It is that good.

If you do eat there, you must try his signature dish of black pudding, foie gras, Pickering watercress and scrumpy syrup. It’s a masterpiece of flavour and texture.

This is a posh book, one of those coffee table books we hear of, but it is a good un, right proper Yorkshire, (said in a local Yorkshire accent).

Meadows, The Swedish Farmer and The Scottish Cook

This week I’ve chosen Meadows, The Swedish Farmer and The Scottish Cook, freshly dropped off by its authors Wendy Barrie and Bosse Dahlgren. These guys have been good friends for many years, and it’s wonderful to see their book in print. 

You may be familiar with Wendy as she has been at the forefront of Scottish food and its history for decades through her work with Slow Food and Ark of Taste. She is someone who knows where rare food comes from and can put you in touch with producers. Wendy also runs The Scottish Food Guide and for many years organised the food theatre at The Highland Show, at which I have given demos for almost 2 decades. 

Bosse is a farmer, a giant of a man with a vast knowledge of traditional farming methods. As a cavalry officer his background is with horses, but now a breeder of rare-breed cattle. Both are believers in self-sufficiency, biodiversity, sustainability and food security. 

What this book brings us is an encyclopaedic knowledge of historical food and farming here in Scotland and in Sweden, Bosse’s homeland. It’s a gentle wander through the seasons of these beautiful countries from the pretty springs, flowering meadows and lush grass through to the hills of deep winter, snow, ice and rugged landscapes and how to manage and make the most of this land which feeds us. 

The knowledge of both their cultures is quite remarkable, with some really good top tips on how to be self-sufficient. As I flick through the pages, it takes me to a place I think I would like to be one day: in the country, appreciating and working with nature, respecting its wildness. 

There are, as you would imagine, a host of recipes, many of which are familiar to me, but also some new ones from Scandinavia. The photography is beautiful, and I can tell this is very personal, something dear and close to them both: their lives penned onto paper. The first paragraph says it all: “inviting you to be inspired and inquisitive, to question today’s food, reconsider land use and discover the potential for nourishment in nature.” 

I consider these two good friends and I’m not ashamed to plug their fabulous work in this book. It is brilliant that they suggest the reader guesses whether it’s Wendy or Bosse speaking as you read through the chapters. I am particularly looking forward to trying the herb-spiced pickled herring recipe, and to cook a goose; something, I still haven’t done. I can’t wait to get stuck into this book.

The Edinburgh Book of Advanced Cookery Recipes

My book of choice this week is very close to home. The Edinburgh Book of Advanced Cookery Recipes from the Edinburgh College of Domestic Science, which was originally Atholl Crescent Cookery School and eventually became Queen Margaret University, a place I know well. 

You may think this is a simple book, given to young students with the odd béchamel recipe or how to make shortcrust, but oh no, this is a proper teaching book with some very good, detailed recipes that could still be used today. 

With over 400 recipes in it, this is not a cheap pocketbook, this is serious stuff. At many places of education back in the day, and still now to some extent, the French way of cooking was what was taught, but here, a nod is given to Scotland and its food culture. 

There are so many dishes to look through and pick apart—some I haven’t the foggiest what they are! Many are written in French, and it’s nice to see Gateau Saint-Honoré included and a real fave of mine, mutton chops. Money doesn’t seem to be an issue as lobster is used quite a bit—I assume it was widely available. 

This is a beautiful book, one I cherish dearly. I have a number of these old-style books and I get a lot from them. I have plenty more in my collection to share with you as the weeks and months go by…

Larousse Gastronomique

This book is very dear to me as it was a gift from my parents at Christmas in 1988. Larousse Gastronomique was a godsend for me as I didn’t know a huge amount about food at the time. I was living away from home and this book taught me so much. I read it every night before turning the light out. 

It’s literally an A to Z of everything to do with gastronomy. The way each letter of the alphabet is used to describe a food item, dish, wine or region is brilliant. And it is concise; full of incredible things and a fountain of knowledge. 

Every time I pick this book up, I find something new that fascinates me. It’s an encyclopaedia of all things to do with food, wine, eating and all sorts of culinary antics. I’m not sure students get this book at college, but I would insist on it as a tool for learning your craft.

The images are wonderful, from a time we have forgotten when chefs wore tall hats and everything had truffle and foie gras in it. A recipe that caught my eye recently was for thrushes stuffed with, you guessed it, truffles and foie gras. Sounds delicious. If you know someone who’s into cooking, they will devour this book.

Broths to Bannocks by Catherine Brown

It’s a proper cookbook this week. A traditional Scots book, with some incredible, historical stories of how we used to eat. Catherine Brown is a well-known cook and author who fascinated me for years. We finally met and I invited her to be a guest at Cafe to celebrate her food using local, Scottish, and old recipes. It was a wonderful evening. 

Broths to Bannocks is a book you can always refer to for different reasons. For recipes, but oh so much more. There are chapters about what was eaten in the past, including some from an another wonderful book I have, Mrs Dalgairn’s Practice of Cookery. Recipes like Caledonian cream from 1829, castle cake from 1874, and fried stag’s feet for breakfast (boiled for 6 hours, then rolled in breadcrumbs). Sounds alright actually. Also, traditional dishes like porridge and butteries, boiled salted mutton, and so on. This book is a compendium of what got us canny Scots through tough times and how we lived off the land, bartered, and survived.

Where do you buy certain items that would never be on a supermarket shelf? There’s a list in this book of places to try. It also has the very best old tales, told as if you were sinking back into your settle in a dimly lit pub on a stormy night with a flicker of a candle and a roaring fire. The Highland welcome was one that was warm and generous.

Catherine writes of a family in Edinburgh who spent a considerable amount on eating out, and drinking in Edinburgh taverns, gambling with cards, with tales of money lost on a game of golf at Leith. Falconry was enjoyed and deerhounds were used for hare coursing, and tackle bought for trout fishing at Cramond.

The gardens were full of pears, apples and plums, with apricot trees in the orchard and the larder a rich storehouse of hams, 15-pound Irish cheeses and salt-herring, sitting alongside anchovies and loaf sugar. Dried fruits like figs and prunes are next to spices. This is wealthy Ravelston in 1690. I really do enjoy this book as it takes us on a tour from 17th century Scotland to the present day. Get yourself a copy!