Neil’s cookbook of the week: The Art of Anton Mosimann

My book choice this week is a blast from my past, as it was a book I often took to bed at night to pore over—looking at the pictures and trying to understand the thought processes and inspirations behind each dish. The Art of Anton Mosimann is a great book that really makes me ask questions. Do we eat with our eyes? If it's edible, it’s food, but at what point does food become art? Why does a dish look beautiful on one plate but better on another type of vessel? The beauty for me is in the produce, say a tomato, or a rare breed pork chop with a thick layer of fat. This book proves that produce can look good as well as taste good. The strawberry swan lake is quite incredible and so pretty. I also love the way he describes some of his dishes: a dialogue of fruit purées, gilded berry jewels, and an orgy of fruit de mer (an interesting one!).

Anton is hugely talented. He was born in Switzerland and by 16, after years of succeeding at sports, he went into the kitchen. At 25, he was head chef at Expo 1970, in charge of hundreds of chefs, and was well-respected. He’s well-known for a lighter approach to food and, for many years, was instrumental in helping to reduce the amount of butter, cream, and fats in our cooking. The food in this book is beautiful—some of the most elaborate food in any cookbook from my collection.

Another reason I like this book is that he takes a classic dish and turns it upside down, reducing the fat content and calories, so it can still be enjoyed. He uses lots of fruit for natural sweetness or poaches a fillet of beef—a dish I used to make years ago.

An old head chef of mine, John Webber, was his sous chef at the Dorchester Hotel in the ’80s, and he said Anton was always an absolute gentleman. My book is signed by him, but I can’t remember how I got it that way. It could have been passed down from my dad, who knew him. It’s worth getting a copy of this if you can, as it must be quite rare now. A piece of culinary history.

The Three Chimneys by Shirley Spear

I've been eagerly waiting to share this book with you. The Three Chimneys by Shirley Spear is truly exceptional, and one of my all-time favourites.

I often find myself flicking through it, and I can’t believe how old it is. The dishes are a brilliant collection of ingredients from the Isle of Skye, where the restaurant is located. The ability to transform these ingredients and old recipes into food that’s still relevant today is truly remarkable.

These days Skye has so many incredible places to eat. There’s Loch Bay, Edinbane Lodge, The Oyster Shed, The Stein Inn and Kinloch Lodge with their talented, hard-working chefs achieving fame and accolades. But this wasn’t always the case. 

I have immense respect for Shirley and what she, her husband Eddie, and their children created on Skye—it was truly trailblazing. Their story is wonderful; moving to the other side of the country, which back then felt like moving to the other side of the world, was a bold move.

The food I’ve had there has always been excellent—not pretentious or poncy, just really well done. I’m grateful to call the whole Spear family friends, having worked with several of them over the years. They are such lovely people.

The images are by another old pal, Alan Donaldson, a fantastic photographer. This book will always be an inspiration for me. It’s so similar to the food I love to cook and eat. If I were a young chef starting out, I’d buy this book right away. It covers everything you need to know about modern and historical Scottish cuisine, all still relevant today.

So many dishes stand out, and there are so many to choose from. Just imagine grouse, a perfect terrine, and a gooseberry tart—all absolutely delicious. Sadly, Shirley doesn’t cook at The Three Chimneys anymore, but I bet what she cooks at home is absolutely blooming delicious. She’s a real, genuine food hero of mine, and I adore this book. Thank you for creating it, Shirley.

Bistrot Bruno by Bruno Loubet

Bistrot Bruno: Cooking from L’Odéon Restaurant, by the talented Bruno Loubet, is truly a gem. Bruno arrived in the UK at a young age and swiftly made his mark as a brilliant cook. Nowadays, he's found down under, cooking on his own terms. He played a pivotal role in shaping the culinary landscape from the late '80s through the early '90s. After military service, cooking for an Admiral, he honed his skills at La Tante Claire under Pierre Koffman in London, followed by Le Manor with Raymond Blanc, and then earned a Michelin Star in his first year at the Four Seasons.

In 1995, he opened L’Odeon on Regent Street, a big place with 200 couverts. The food was good, honest and simple, the sort of food you want to eat, really proper, nothing poncy. Think aioli Provencal, huge salt cod with that tangy mayonnaise like garlic sauce, a salad of leeks with lardons and poached egg, and mussels cooked over a flame.The recipes are brilliantly simple, easy-to-follow, and as Shaun Hill says on the back cover, "this is bistrot cooking at its most exciting.”

I received this book as a Christmas gift back in 1996 from the train manager during my days on the Royal Scotsman – how time flies! If you get the chance, get your hands on this treasure.

The Homemakers' Cookbook and Guide to Nutrition

I will be honest and say this book is new to me. I picked it up just this week in a charity shop for a pound. What a bargain! The Homemakers’ Cookbook and Guide to Nutrition was written in 1946. After flipping through it several times, it seems to be a brilliant book. The significance of nutrition and healthy eating was recognised 80 years ago, but I wasn't aware it was emphasised so much.

I imagine that right after the war, nations were focused on building strength and improving the health of their populations for the new era. This book was published in Washington DC and exudes an American vibe, but in a charming way—similar to The Wizard of Oz in Kansas, where Judy Garland bakes delicious, healthy cookies, wheat germ muffins, or maybe Boston brown bread.

This reminds me of an updated Mrs. Beeton's, but it was quite modern for its time. It includes charts detailing calorie counts, fat content, and other valuable information such as vitamin content in different foods, along with straightforward recipes. Such a book shouldn't be sniffed at; it's a historical document that offers insights into everyday life just after the war—a period focused on rebuilding and moving forward.

One recipe I particularly enjoy is for 'glorified carrots,' essentially croquettes made from cooked, grated carrots and breadcrumbs. Another intriguing one is Berkshire soup, made with canned corn and a surprising addition of two tablespoons of sugar! Sounds interesting…

There really is something for everyone in this book - if you can find one! The sticker on the front says ‘poor’, but I think it’s excellent!

Nico by Nico Ladenis

Nico is a truly classic cookbook, written by a man who many chefs have worked for and are proud to have on their CV. I never did, although I was urged to by my father when he was lecturing at Westminster college in London. Nico had a restaurant just around the corner and he knew the chaps at the college, and they had a good relationship. 

Nico Ladenis was a self-taught chef. He was a trailblazer in the top-end dining scene of London in the 70s and 80s. He was bold, confident and a great cook. A bit controversial and a bit scary, but he had a heart of gold. He passed away last year at the age of 89.

Many of today’s great chefs came through his kitchen, taught to his impeccable standards, and he most certainly changed the way chefs cook now. I love this book for many reasons, but mostly because it’s the type of food I was taught to cook. Times change, and it’s a different world now. You might not have heard of him, but he was an absolute legend amongst us chefs.

Send it up Hot, How to be an 18th Century Cook, Recipes old and new from Castle Howard

I love this little book. I bought it for a fiver from Castle Howard’s gift shop when I visited a few years ago. And what a bargain for all that history! 

It’s such a vast building, it knocked me for six. There are beautiful grounds to walk around and the interiors are just gorgeous. Sadly there weren’t any kitchens to look at, at least none that I could find, but what a place. If you are ever in North Yorkshire, go and drink it all in. 

It’s hard to believe some of the recipes in this book were ever served. There are some tasty ones, but also a few horrors, even for me! Take gammon of badger, viper broth or snail water. They sound more like the lunch menu at Hogwarts than a stately home. 

Despite being one of the wealthiest homes in 18th century Britain, it did serve simple food like roast beef and Yorkshire puddings, and bacon and beans, for which there are recipes in this book. 

I also love the poetry of language in old recipes. For example, a recipe for roast chicken with garlic reads, 

“Chose a fine, large, young fowl, or a very fine capon, or paulard, but be nice in the choice of it, for unless it be in itself excellently good, the care and trouble of dressing will be thrown away.”

What a wonderful way to advise on sourcing the best ingredients. 

Throughout the book lots of lemons and oranges are used—perhaps to mask the flavour of badger—as well as plenty of spices, dried fruits and sugar used in the savoury dishes. I think my favourite dish from the book is a recipe from 1734 for trout with fennel. It sounds like something I’d cook today.

Fäviken by Magnus Nilsson

Fäviken by Magnus Nilsson is a beautifully-put-together piece of art. The book is packed with wonderful images of food, wild meadows, foraged herbs, hanging charcuterie and cooking over fire. In essence, it takes a step back in time to how we used to cook. 

Fäviken was a tiny ‘destination’ restaurant in a remote area of Sweden accessed by ox taxi or skidoo. I know a few folk who ate at this mystical place (that closed its doors in 2019). If you were lucky enough to have dined there, you might have devoured a scallop cooked over charcoal, or some meat from an old dairy cow, hung for a long time, cooked simply and served with something pickled, smoked or fermented. 

The food may appear to be simple, but it is not simplistic. Great care and a lot of attention to detail goes into creating dishes that use few ingredients. I understand this approach to cooking and believe that delving into the past is a great way to see into the future. Young chefs are becoming excited by old skills like fermenting, pickling and smoking, learning techniques from books like this. Old methods can teach us a lot and provide great inspiration. As long as we enjoy the process and we’re not too earnest about it, then I’m all for it.

Edinburgh on a Plate by Ferrier Richardson

This week’s book features yours truly, and also Cafe St Honoré, but before my time. Edinburgh on a Plate is a great book (of course I would say that) featuring a genuinely good collection of recipes from Edinburgh chefs from about 25 years ago. At that time I was working at the Atrium restaurant in the building the houses the Traverse Theatre. I’d been there about a year in 1999 when the book came out. It was a great place to work and very cool. 

Cafe was also featured, with its previous owners Chris and Gill Colverson, who are very old friends. Not much has changed at Cafe since then, but Atrium no longer exists, and I do look a tad older. There are some wonderful pictures of Cafe, and I love reminiscing and re-reading the stories from the other contributors. 

Martin Irons of Martins restaurant is in there, and Roy Brett when he was at Malmaison (before Ondine). Even the late Gary Rhodes when he had a restaurant on Rose Street. And there are many more characters with some lovely recipes. My food has moved on slightly since those days, as it does with time, but the photography from Alan Donaldson does it proud. 

The book was put together by Ferrier Richardson, a great chef who had some fabulous restaurants in Bearsden and Glasgow and was an inspiration to many (and still is). He now has The East End Fox in Glasgow, and I was always a huge admirer of his food. 

Someone recently reminded me that I’m in this book, whilst they chuckled about how young I look. They then explained that they discovered the book in a charity shop. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not… But interestingly, the dishes Chris was cooking at Cafe back then aren’t that far off what we’re cooking today, confirming that Cafe St Honoré is indeed - timeless!

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.