Neil’s cookbook of the week: Mrs Beeton’s Every-Day Cookery

Like many of my books, I can’t quite remember where I bought Mrs Beeton’s Every-day Cookery. It was probably a church book sale on George Street here in Edinburgh a few years ago. I paid £15 for it—not a lot, and it’s in remarkably good condition. Considering its age, it’s almost like new, which I find a shame. It hasn’t been thumbed through enough, hasn’t been splattered with flour, grease, and egg whites. The pages are too clean! No dribbles from separating yolks from whites, no signs of serious kitchen use. 

The number of recipes is unbelievable, and they all read very well, with a touch of tradional charm. There’s a definite French influence throughout, but it’s great to see British dishes championed too—think Yorkshire ginger cake, veal and ham pie, toad in the hole, and of course, roast snipe (which I haven’t eaten in years). It’s more than just a cookbook, though. Mrs Beeton was known for her household management advice, and this is essentially a manual for running a home. How to clean your tortoiseshell, what equipment you need, how many servants to have—it’s all in there. 

This book was incredibly popular, selling many copies and making a fortune from both sales and advertising. Sadly, Isabella Beeton died at just 28, in 1865. She was married to an ambitious publisher and magazine editor who had her write recipes and household advice for his magazines and books. Some people criticise her work, others are in awe. Personally, I’m staggered by how much she knew at such a young age. Maybe people matured faster back then, becoming worldly-wise sooner. 

Most households, at some point, had a copy of one of her books. I have at least half a dozen and find them endlessly fascinating. She was an educated woman who knew a lot about food, spoke both French and German, and even translated great works from French to English. Her books are full of beautiful engravings and images. What stove should I buy? What mangle is best? How do I clean my rug? It’s all in there—a perfect read for a wet and windy day with a mug of tea and a biscuit.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Charcuterie and French Pork Cookery by Jane Grigson

This is a fabulous little Penguin book by Jane Grigson called Charcuterie and French Pork Cookery. I absolutely adore it. I hadn’t picked it up for a while, and as I did, a few notes and scribbles for brine recipes fell out from when I last used it. 

This book is packed with essential and practical recipes—from sausages to terrines, pâté to black pudding. It’s concise but an enjoyable read, and her descriptions really draw you into the heart of French rustic cooking.

One of the fascinating sections is where she explores the various ways to make black pudding—some with apples or chestnuts, others creamy or made with onions or spinach. Grigson dives deep into the art of old French cookery, offering hearty, no-nonsense dishes. With many offal recipes, it’s a great way to see how to use the 'bits and bobs' that are often overlooked in modern cooking.

There’s a great recipe for making chitterlings, using up intestines and washing them down by the river, a true rustic experience. My personal favourite, though, is the Bath Chap—essentially the pig’s jaw, or jowl, which is slowly cooked and then fried in breadcrumbs until crispy. It’s a very old dish and utterly delicious. I love her casual note in the method: "When it's quite cold, cover with toasted breadcrumbs and cut the end of the snout off, as it upsets some people. Chill."

There are hundreds of ideas here to inspire you. I admire how Grigson encourages the economical housewife to buy a pig’s head for 3 or 4 shillings, and from that, you can create so many things—pig's ears with a piquant sauce, brains in puff pastry, Bath Chaps, sausage meat for pâté, and rillons (similar to rillettes). With 4 ½ pounds of boneless meat on the head, it’s extremely economical. You can even make a clear broth or aspic jelly from the bones.

If cooking is your thing, and you have a love for French charcuterie, this book is for you. And the best part? You can pick it up for next to nothing.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Noma: Time and Place in Nordic Cuisine by René Redzepi

It gives me great joy when I stumble upon a book I haven’t opened in years, only to discover flowers pressed between its pages, perhaps from an important event, tucked in with sheets of kitchen paper. The memories come flooding back. Today, the dried and pressed flowers I found were from my mother’s funeral—one rose and one thistle. Bittersweet memories, both sad and happy.

The book I’m sharing this week is Noma: Time and Place in Nordic Cuisine by René Redzepi. Many of you will recognise the name Noma, the iconic restaurant that put Copenhagen on the food map and defined the new Nordic way of cooking: keeping it simple, using clever techniques, and cooking with ingredients native to the region. I never had the chance to eat there, as reservations were impossible to come by—waiting lists were booked solid, and seasons sold out in a matter of minutes. But it was widely credited with sparking the trend of foodie tourism.

René was instrumental in reinventing Nordic cuisine. He honed his craft in kitchens like El Bulli and The French Laundry, two temples of gastronomy. He quickly became a world-famous chef; someone I had the pleasure of meeting once and seeing cook at a demonstration. He’s a master of taking food to unprecedented levels, always with a clever twist.

There’s a lot of wild, inventive stuff on the plates in this book—Danish squid with strawberries and verbena oil, celeriac and Icelandic moss, seaweed and egg yolk, musk ox with fresh young garlic and milk skin, caramelised garlic. I did get to taste his food once at a posh dinner in London, where he cooked a course. It was raw razor clam with horseradish and parsley—simple, clean, and bursting with flavour.

This is a beautiful book, visually stunning, but if I’m honest, I’ll probably never cook anything from it. It’s just a bit too much for me. Still, I love leafing through the pages and looking at the pictures.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: The British Cook Book by Ben Mervis

The British Cook Book by Ben Mervis is an essential for anyone who loves proper, simple, classic British cookery—especially if, like me, you crave food with soul. This isn’t about poncy dishes; it’s about flavour and heart, without worrying too much about presentation. 

The book is a gem with 550 recipes to try on your loved ones. Of course, it covers the classics, but there are also some more unexpected options. It’s a particularly strong pudding book, with everything from Eton Mess and Summer Pudding to Sticky Toffee and more. There’s even a fantastic Ecclefechan tart recipe and one for Sussex Pond Pudding, a suet sponge with a whole lemon in the middle.

On the savoury side, it’s a joy to see dishes like roast grouse, proper pies, langoustines and mussel brose, herring in oatmeal—foods I love and smile at when they appear on a menu.

This is quickly becoming one of my favourites. It covers a huge amount with plenty of sections, including a good basics section. If you’ve never made a hot cross bun or shepherd's pie, you need this book. It will help you take a delicious stroll through our beautiful land and seashores, offering historical dishes too, with details about where the recipes come from and who created them. A truly great book.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Cooking with Elizabeth Craig

This week, we have another old book, and what a wonderful thing it is. Cooking with Elizabeth Craig is a very good book indeed, and one of my favourites. I can’t quite remember where I got it—perhaps my dad, but I’m not sure. It was a bestseller in its time, and I understand Elizabeth was very popular. It’s concise, well laid out, and was first published in 1932—almost 100 years ago. 

It begins with a guide to shopping and storing food, from a time before fridges. One line I particularly like reads: "to store meat, examine to see that there is no sign of fly, if there is, cut off part tainted and wipe remainder with a clean cloth dipped in equal quantity of warm water and vinegar." Brilliant advice! There’s also a note that you shouldn’t serve red wine with fish unless it’s salmon à la Parisienne.

The book contains about a thousand recipes, and it’s always exciting to open it and discover a dish you’ve never seen before. There’s a fantastic bread sauce recipe that I use, a brilliant pickled herring recipe, game dishes, and even instructions on how to cook capercaillie—though that's probably illegal now! There’s also a good haggis recipe, braised ox tongue, and a simple Scotch curry. With directions on how to prepare and cook almost anything, it remains a great 'go to' book.

Hailing from Kirriemuir, Elizabeth only spent a short time at cookery school but went on to publish many books in her lifetime, as well as becoming a great teacher. There’s a recipe for Glasgow gingerbread that I’m keen to try, which includes ground almonds and Barbados sugar—it sounds delicious. 

You can pick up a copy of this book for just a few pounds, but I think it’s worth far more. A great addition to any bookshelf.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Bread Matters by Andrew Whitley

If you’re a keen baker and love making bread, you may already have Bread Matters by Andrew Whitley in your collection. It’s one of my favourite books for inspiration, or when something goes wrong. The simplicity of a loaf of bread is staggering. Andrew was a founder of the Real Bread Campaign and Scotland The Bread, an organisation aimed at encouraging us to grow more grain to make our own bread. 

I’ve known Andrew for many years, and he’s a good friend. This copy was signed by him, and it always makes me smile, reminding me of a wonderful evening at Cafe with Slow Food and Andrew a few years ago. We ate good food, gathered around big tables, chatting about food, but mostly about bread.

The book is filled with recipes, many of which need to be read several times before starting, as some require a few days’ work—like beginning a leaven or mother starter to make the bread rise using the natural yeasts in the flour itself, rather than relying on chemical rising agents like baker’s yeast or bicarbonate of soda. It still fascinates me that a good, proper loaf of bread requires only flour, water, and salt—nothing else. That’s one of the reasons Andrew wrote this book: to spread the word about good baking and thoughtful ingredient choices.

My copy is well-worn and has been with me for years. I refer to it often, especially for the troubleshooting section, which offers solutions to many common sourdough problems. I’m also fortunate enough to be a judge for the Scottish Bread Championships every year, which is great fun and organised by Andrew.

If making a sourdough loaf has been on your mind but you’ve never tried it, buy this book and give it a go.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Food for Free by Richard Mabey

This is a book that is never far from me: Food For Free by Richard Mabey. It’s a concise collection that covers everything from seaweed to fungi to berries—all edible, but also notes those that are poisonous. With over half a million copies sold, it is undoubtedly the best pocket handbook for both seasoned foragers and beginners, complete with excellent plant illustrations.

The book mentions 240 wild foods. While it’s not primarily a recipe book, it does include some recipes. It provides top tips on what to do with various finds, offering ideas you might not have considered before. From watercress to wood sorrel, chanterelles to pig nuts, it will open your eyes to the wonders of the countryside.

It's nicely sized, not too heavy, and slips easily into a pocket or bag. The guide includes instructions on how to handle nettles and identifies mushrooms and plants to avoid. Identification is key here. It’s an interesting read even if you aren’t out and about. 

There must have been a significant reliance on wild foods in the past. The knowledge of the seasons was likely common, with everyone knowing when to anticipate the next wild crop. The diversity in climate and land types from Shetland to Cornwall means much remains regional.

It's a fascinating book. I love it and even lent it to a neighbour who picked mushrooms and is still alive—so it must be a good reference!

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Cookery and Pastry as Taught and Practiced by Mrs. Maciver

I have recently acquired a remarkable book at auction: Cookery and Pastry as Taught and Practiced by Mrs. Maciver, who was born in 1709 and taught these arts in Edinburgh. I adore this book and feel very fortunate to own such a rare piece. The copy I purchased is not a first edition but a second or possibly third edition, printed in 1805. The first edition was likely published in 1773, a time when the letter 's' was still written as 'f', a style that had changed by the time my edition was printed.

It’s fascinating to think about the people who have held this book over the years. The language is beautiful, the dishes described are wonderful, and the condition of the book is quite remarkable for its 220 years. This edition was printed in the same year as the Battle of Trafalgar and when Lewis and Clark were exploring the Pacific coast of North America.

Mrs. Maciver was undoubtedly a skilled cook, operating two cookery schools near the High Street in Edinburgh. The Enlightenment and the society of the Georgian New Town spurred a new era of eating, cooking, and entertaining in the fancy New Town houses. The recipes in the book are fantastic, featuring an early, if not the first published, recipe for haggis (spelled "haggies"), hare collops, and a citron pudding. The instruction to soak a venison shoulder or breast in its own blood overnight was particularly surprising to me.

If you find a copy in as good condition as mine, I highly recommend purchasing it. They are said to be quite valuable. Try looking through your relatives’ bookcases or exploring some of the remaining old bookshops—you might just get lucky.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Recipes from Le Manoir by Raymond Blanc

Another classic from my collection this week: Raymond Blanc's Recipes from Le Manoir Aux Quat’ Saisons. I really like this book because it’s concise and features dishes that Blanc still makes today—truly classic and timeless. I recall many of the recipes from this book from my time cooking there. The kitchen was tough, but you learned quickly. It was fast-paced, with so many chefs, and it was always busy. The restaurant was constantly full, and there were a huge number of deliveries arriving daily. I remember the fridge filled with scores of foie gras terrines, the countless quail’s egg ravioli we made, and the dried vegetables brushed with truffle oil.

This is a great all-round cookbook that follows the seasons. The ideas are there for you to embrace and get inspired by. The book is filled with beautiful images, and with such a vast collection of recipes, it’s a noteworthy addition to any collection—simple yet always focused on the quality of the ingredients.

Blanc is a clever chef with a deep understanding of ingredients. He’s a great cook, supported by a vast team, and his garden is to die for. My favourite recipe is the terrine of foie gras; it’s decadent and utterly delicious, served with brioche and a sweet wine jelly—a perfect starter. Sadly, we no longer use foie gras, so its taste is just a memory now.

An abiding memory I have from working at Le Manoir is of scrubbing kilos of truffles. It was such a joy; even if the smell was a little overwhelming. Recipes from Le Manoir is a great addition to any bookcase. 

Neil’s cookbook of the week: The Scots Kitchen by F. Marian McNeill

There are many books in my collection, a few of which—that only come out on special occasions—are very carefully nestled in the bookcase of my ever-so-perfectly-kept home office. That last part is a lie, my office is a mess that resembles a cabbage chopped by a fledgling chef. Needless to say it’s mayhem, or rather, ‘organised chaos’. 

The Scots Kitchen by F. Marian McNeill is one such cherished book. I believe this copy came from my dear father, though I’m not certain how he acquired it. Originally published in 1929 and reprinted many times, this particular edition from 1940 is still delightful. A few scribbles inside suggest it was once given as a gift—a detail I absolutely adore. 

Perhaps you have heard of this book, or even own a copy. It captures a turning point in the history of Scottish cookery. It was very popular in its day, with readers devouring the authentic recipes and fascinating anecdotes. It’s still popular with me at least, as I love nothing more than delving into its pages on a rainy day. 

The book opens with: “this is to preserve the recipes of our old national dishes, many of which, in this age of standardisation, are in danger of falling into undeserved oblivion.” What a wonderful sentiment. As you read through the dishes, recipes, and the ways people ate over time, a rich story unfolds. I adore the rustic feel of the food—no tweezers here (take note, chefs).

The book offers everything from different types of oatcakes and Scots mutton pies to Howtowdie (fowl with a farce in a broth) and Powsowdie (a broth made with sheep heads and trotters). There are plenty of ideas for brose, using oats, oatmeal, peasemeal, and barley meal, or ‘beremeal’ as we call it. And a real fave of mine, how to dress a cod’s head and shoulders. There is also a Hollyrood pudding recipe. I’m pretty sure we have all seen a few of those in our time!

Meg Dods is name-checked throughout. She was a famous cook at the Cleikum Club at an old Borders inn, who was immortalised by Walter Scott in St. Ronans Well. She wrote her own cookery books and was very influential in the early 19th century. I will tell you more about her book in a future instalment…

There’s some absolutely fascinating stuff to be discovered in this book, including a brilliant appendix of Franco-Scottish domestic terms. Literally packed full of things we either don’t know or have forgotten. If you don’t have a copy, and you like all things Scottish food history, get your hands on one!