Neil’s cookbook of the week: The Practice of Cookery by Mrs Dalgairns

This week is a belter. It is a very rare old cookery book; one I have acquired only quite recently. ‘The Practise of Cookery’ by Mrs Dalgairns was printed in Edinburgh in 1831, which makes it almost 200 years old. I find this staggering, holding this book in my hand. It reveals so much about life back then. A time when there was terrible poverty, and yet this book has recipes for lobster and a calf’s head soup recipe.

Back then, a lot of folk couldn’t read and had basic manual jobs, but of the few who were educated well and could read, some were sent to a cookery school of which there were several here in Edinburgh in the 1800s.

This book was a real find and will be an investment I am sure, and the condition of it is incredible. It is from a time when you were sent off to learn how to be a cook and a lady and have a knowledge of how to run a house. This isn’t just a cookery book; this will instruct you in to how to clean your mop heads and brushes and how to make all sorts of wine. The word catsup instead of ketchup is used a lot, and tomata for example, bizarre spellings of things.

Considering this was printed not too long after the war with France there are quite a few nods to French-style cookery terms, and it is very concise, with a very good number of chapters about preserving. So being thrifty was a necessity back then. How to pickle and what to do with eels and how to make red herring, all very interesting. Some very good Scottish dishes, and lots of recipes for cakes and biscuits. It is a very good book indeed, one I am very chuffed to have found. If you see one in one of those old bookshops you stumble across, buy it.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Est Est Est Cookbook: Marriages by Donovan Cooke and Phillipa Sibley-Cooke

This book takes me back to a time when me and other chefs were all following the same things, reading the same books, working in the same places, and following each other’s styles. Est Est Est Cookbook: Marriages by Donovan Cooke (formerly Roux Waterside Inn, Harvey’s) and Phillipa Sibley-Cooke (formerly Quaglino’s, Canteen) is up there as one of my favourite modern cookery books. Coming from the same generation as these chaps, and having worked in the same places, I have admired them for some time now. The food is so London from the ‘90s, and it was so refreshing to see their restaurant, Est Est Est in Melbourne, at a time when Australia wasn’t quite ready for the Brit Pack (as they were called).

I was cooking in Oz in the early ‘90s and found some of the British influences had reached down under, but it took a good few more years of British influence and Aussie chefs working in London (for Roux or Marco) before returning to make a big change.

It was a great time, when food was proper and classic, with no Scandic influences. It was clean, relatively simple, and not a tweezer in sight. There’s a clean look to the food in this book, no more so than in the pyramid of chocolate. You can tell a mile away that Cooke had worked for Marco—there are elements of him throughout this boo—in a good way. If you know Marco’s books, you will understand what I mean.

This is clever food, well executed, beautiful to look at and very tasty. You don’t get food like this anymore and I miss it. It was a golden age of cookery which modernised the classic French food we were taught; and the cool chefs at that time, made it cool. I hope someone opens a restaurant near me one and cooks food like this. I will be at the front of the queue.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Classical Recipes of The World

Classical Recipes of The World from 1954 is a great book to use as guide to almost anything you need to know in cookery, with an A to Z like Larousse Gastronomique. It is full of interesting stats, facts and details that we may not know, or perhaps have forgotten. If you are studying, this is a good book to take to bed every night to get to learn culinary terms and dishes, when various events happen in the culinary calendar and how to write a menu to make it sound more appealing. 

Henry Smith has written a number of good books around food. This is a great one. It is full of fascinating facts, sometimes unrelated to food. For example, on my birthday, 7th October, in 1777 was the battle of Saratoga, and Charles XIII of Sweden was born in 1778. I love how Henry is obsessed by the historical culinary calendar. It shows how dishes have, yet haven’t, changed much over the centuries. 

Welsh rabbit, or rare bit, was well known to Italian cheesemakers long before English cookery books were printed. It called on the old Roman way of cooking called Platina style. He was the librarian to the Vatican, who it is claimed, wrote the first ever cookbook, which was later copied by the French. At this time in the sixteenth century, Italians, (the Florentines and Catherine de’ Medici) were teaching the French the arts of hospitality, as practiced in Italy at the time. Perhaps we should all look to Italy as the home of haute cuisine and modern gastronomy, which was then copied by or taught to, the French. 

Henry goes on to write “right up to the fifteenth century France had little, if any, superiority over the great kitchens of England’s palaces, castles and colleges. The French exploited the Italian art of cuisine”. I love how he dedicated the book to his wife, and at the end writes, “so little time—yet, so much to do…”.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: The Cookery Book of Lady Clark of Tillypronie

Another great way to kick start the New Year is by pulling a book off the shelf with a lovely history attached. The Cookery Book of Lady Clark of Tillypronie is a great example of how people used to eat in the higher societies, offering a great insight into what was eaten 150-200 years ago. 

I love the different sections, with concise recipes included. It really is a good read. The section on curries is absolutely fascinating with a Barbados curry from 1891, a very simple dish with mace and curry powder. 

This book is a collection of recipes from different folk who, I must assume, visited the large house and over the years a repertoire was created. With so many soufflé recipes it must have been quite a time to be eating in these large houses. There is always a French influence in cookery at this time, from when large, wealthy houses employed famous French chefs to cook for them. But there are some excellent recipes for barley soup, gnocchi using semolina and simple home-cooked dishes.

The names of some dishes fascinate me, like Rabbit Pish Pash. A rum omelette sounds fascinating and calves head, turned out of the mould is very interesting. There are also lots of game birds in detail, as many would have been shot on the estate and handed to the kitchens to deal with. 

It takes me back to my youth, working at Ballathie and Kinnaird where many hours were spent in the plucking sheds with a hoover strapped to my back. A classic, and a great read, it was apparently, Elizabeth David's favourite cookery book. In the introduction I read, “I would defy anyone not to become a better cook for reading it”. I agree.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Tartine Bread by Chad Robertson

I have a number of books on bread and baking, but Tartine Bread by Chad Robertson is a real favourite. Based in San Francisco—the home of modern sourdough—it’s fascinating to learn that the naturally occurring culture in sourdough is named after the city: Lactobacillus sanfrancisensis.

The recent surge in interest in bread-making has been incredible, almost ritualistic for some. We’re fortunate now to have so many good bakeries, compared to a few years ago when the bread on offer was lacklustre at best. The rise (sorry) of sourdough bakeries in towns, villages, and cities is such a positive shift, and this book delves into the how and why of it all.

Tartine Bread is beautifully laid out with clear instructions and excellent troubleshooting tips. Chad’s bakery sells out within an hour every day, which says a lot about the quality of the bread. His signature loaves have a tender, open crumb and a burnished, deeply flavoured crust—just as my dad used to say, “the crust always has the best flavour.”

The book also includes some wonderful ideas for using up older bread—think panzanella, bruschetta, or a classic French onion soup. It’s a must-read for bread geeks (and there are plenty of us).

Making sourdough at home three times a week has become a bit of an obsession for me. I’m always thinking about the dough’s stage and worrying about temperature fluctuations. Some might say I need to get out more, but who would look after my dough if I did? Tinto the dog, perhaps…

Neil’s cookbook of the week: The Vegetarian Option by Simon Hopkinson

Simon Hopkinson has always been regarded as a thinking man’s chef—intelligent and thought-provoking in his approach to food. In his excellent book The Vegetarian Option, he manages to inspire yet again. I’ve featured another of his books here before, the brilliant Roast Chicken and Other Stories. I love these books for many reasons, and if I were a selfish man, I’d think, “Damn, I wish I’d had that idea.” But he’s done vegetables proud here, creating dishes that I actually want to eat. It’s not necessarily about how the food looks (though the beauty of simplicity is always present in his cooking) but how it tastes.

On the first page or so, Hopkinson recounts having a dish of vegetable bouillon at Marc Meneau, a 3-star Michelin restaurant in France, and being utterly blown away by its flavour, colour, and consistency. It reminded me of making gallons of the stuff at Kinnaird House all those years ago—a precise recipe of half white wine, half water, with a pinch of saffron. The flavour was incredible, and like Hopkinson suggests, we stored it in Le Parfait jars in a cool place to let it develop further. Stock is the backbone of most good dishes, and this vegetable stock is no exception.

The recipes in this book are straightforward and appealing. Think cucumber, melon, and tomato salad; grilled aubergine with pesto; wilted radicchio with green sauce—this is my kind of food. A spinach mousse with parmesan cream sounds intriguing, and the parsley, radish, and celery salad with capers feels like the perfect summer dish to enjoy outside with good bread and cheese. And then there’s his soup au pistou—a classic, and so tasty.

Widely recognised as one of the UK’s leading food writers, Hopkinson has a loyal and well-deserved following. His Roast Chicken and Other Stories was once hailed as “the most useful cookery book of all time” in a survey of chefs, cooks, and food writers. Maybe one day, I’ll write that book myself—can someone lend me some extra time, please? But before you all rush to pre-order my unwritten cookbook on Amazon, pick up this one—even if you’re a devoted carnivore.

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Gatherings by Flora Shedden

Flora Shedden is an old pal. We worked together on BBC Radio for a good few years as presenters on a food programme. We got on very well and had loads of laughs, along with our other friend and presenter, Sumayya Usmani. We made great, groundbreaking radio, supported by a fantastic team who made it all possible.

Flora’s book Gatherings is a lovely piece of art in itself. The title reflects her focus on recipes for all occasions, both great and small. It’s a clever way to write a cookbook, full of anecdotes, tales, stories about produce, and a huge amount of genuine love for food. It’s all about gathering ingredients and people together.

This is a very simple book, which I love—nothing ever feels overly complicated. I adore how Flora describes the dishes she cooks as “common-sense food” with proper, honest ingredients. Nothing fussy, nothing overdone.

Flora shot to fame on Bake Off, the television programme where contestants bake cakes and other challenging showstoppers in a tent during the height of summer. It looks frightening, with celebrities judging and tasting. Flora was quite young when she appeared on the programme, but since then, she’s gone on to open a bakery and other businesses in her native Dunkeld.

The book is wonderful, with lots of good recipes to choose from. Chapters range from Mornings and Quick and Slow through to Sweet Plates and Puds. I love the sound of her sumac roast chicken, which I’ll be trying with carrots and chickpeas, and there’s also a very fine gooseberry cake. I enjoy this book a lot, and it’s wonderful to see Flora doing so well. Buy this book for the beautiful photography too!

Neil’s cookbook of the week: Food DIY by Tim Hayward

It's a little gem this week, in the form of Food DIY by Tim Hayward. If making food from scratch is your thing, this book is a treasure trove of information. If you’ve ever fancied making bacon or sausages, pickling something, smoking food, or even making your own cheese and butter, this book will definitely pique your interest. I love flicking through its pages, finding inspiration in Tim’s methods. He makes food fun—adventurous even—and also economical.  

Learning new skills is always rewarding, and here you’ll find a lifetime of knowledge distilled into one book. You’ll master the art of terrine-making, creating sloe gin, baking bread, and making butter, cheese, and so much more. There are some excellent recipes for dishes you’ll love, all laid out in simple, easy-to-follow steps. The puy lentil and feta salad caught my eye, and the omelette Arnold Bennett—a classic from the Savoy Hotel—looks incredible.

The methods Tim Hayward has chosen are brilliant, offering inspiration that, in the long run, will save you money and make you the envy of your neighbourhood—as the irresistible waft of smoked fish fills your street. I’d wholeheartedly recommend this book; it’s a fantastic resource and a lot of fun, especially if you’re up for pushing yourself to try something new.

Of course, there are excellent sausages from proper butchers and incredible pastries from skilled bakers available across the country. But if you’re up for the challenge to ‘do it yourself’, you might just discover a new obsession—and you’ll likely never go back to overpriced, pre-made food again. My top tip: give it a try!

Neil’s cookbook of the week: The Art of Cookery by Elizabeth Taylor

This week’s book is something special. It's an old one—sadly not an original, but a facsimile of Elizabeth Taylor's The Art of Cookery from 1769, produced by the Berwick History Society in 2002. It was a very limited run; this copy is number 189 of 300, gifted to me by an old friend. It’s a fabulous book, allowing the reader to glimpse life back then—how people dressed, lived, were housed, drank, and, of course, ate. 

Written not long after the final Jacobite rising, there must have been some undercover tartan stuff going on, as I believe it was still banned, even in the Lowlands. The author, Elizabeth Taylor, was the daughter of a prosperous merchant when Berwick was a thriving trading town. The book overlaps with the work of another cook of the time, Hannah Glasse, with similar recipes and often identical methods and ingredients. There was even a court case or two over it, though I’m not sure of the details.

This book wasn’t for everyday folk; it was aimed at the higher classes in the Border region, who could afford quality ingredients. The average home certainly didn’t have a cooker; cooking was done over a fire in a simple but-and-ben cottage, perhaps with a turf roof. Not a lot of folk could read, so unless you had a certain level of education, this book wouldn’t have been much use. The language is fascinating, with recipes written in the old style, using an “f” in place of the modern “s.” 

It’s remarkably concise, with plenty to work your way through. There are the usual sections on meat, poultry, and game, along with some amusing additions—such as “a good acid for punch,” “to ragoo a neck of veal,” and “to stew fresh neat’s tongues” (which we know now as beef or ox tongue). I was delighted to see an early version of sourdough, called “bread without barm, by the help of a leaven”, and a recipe for bread and butter pudding, a timeless favourite with a process quite similar to today’s.

The measurements are interesting too—bushels of this, pecks of that. One recipe for baking tench advises getting them fresh out of the pond, killing them with a hard stroke on the head, then scraping, gutting, and washing them. And then there’s “water gruel”, a blast from my childhood, here with the addition of sweet butter. There’s something for everyone, and I usually like to focus on the slightly more unusual dishes.

It’s a good book, still usable today (as long as you remember that “s” is “f”!). In the front, there’s a list of local subscribers, including a certain Mrs Forbes of Edinburgh—not the current one, I presume!

Neil’s cookbook of the week: The French Laundry Cookbook by Thomas Keller

This is a gem—a real chef’s book, and one that many of you may know. The French Laundry Cookbook by Thomas Keller is up there among the world’s cheffy favourites. Keller is a much-admired chef, a man who has built a unique kitchen culture. When an order is called out by the chef during service, his entire team replies with a unified “oui, chef.” There are scores of them in his kitchens, and he has been at the vanguard of food and cookery for decades. With multiple Michelin stars and huge respect within our industry, he seems calm, organised, and almost obsessive about the food he creates. For him, it’s a military operation, with no room for error—a true food nerd (meant as a compliment). He demands the utmost dedication from his team and absolute perfection at all times. I admire that, but to achieve it, you need an army of chefs, cooks, front-of-house staff, and office support.

Keller opened The French Laundry in 1994, and it has since won countless awards, often described as the best restaurant in America, if not the world. Although America has never particularly appealed to me—I went once, stopping in L.A. on my way back from Australia and New Zealand and didn’t quite “get” it—the Napa Valley, where Keller is based, looks stunning. Vineyards, sea breezes, sunshine, winding roads perfect for a motorcycle ride—probably a big Harley Davidson—and then arriving for a leisurely lunch. Yes, I see the appeal.

This book has many chapters that dive deep into Keller’s approach. Take ‘The Importance of Trussing a Chicken’. I love this because, while not essential, at Keller’s level, it’s crucial—he probably wouldn’t sleep at night unless the chickens were trussed just so. It’s OCD on a grand culinary scale. Another chapter I resonate with is ‘The Importance of Staff Meals’. An army marches on its stomach, and looking after the team’s wellbeing through their tums is a wise move. This book contains a multitude of beautiful recipes, but it’s more than a cookbook—it’s a coffee table book, a work of art. The images are stunning. One day, fingers crossed, I will go there.

In a roundabout way, I almost met Thomas Keller once. I was dining at St. John in London with friends, the day after the Michelin guide was released, and Keller happened to be seated at the table next to us. I had a quick chat with the waiting staff, who we had got to know after years of eating there, and asked if they would do me a favour and ask for his autograph for me. I spun a little story, saying I was working in the kitchen and would be thrilled to have his autograph. I watched as the waitress leaned over to whisper my tale in his ear. To my surprise, Keller took out a calligraphy set from his bag and spent a few thoughtful moments. Remember, I was at the next table, watching him with bated breath. Then, with a few swift, artistic strokes, he signed a menu and handed it back to the waitress, who brought it to the kitchen and finally over to me, saying, “There you go.”

It was pure theatre. I was embarrassed but delighted. I’ll always treasure that signed menu.