bringing the best restos home
Every Christmas without fail I, or at least one member of my family, receives a cookery book. Years ago, it was Jamie Oliver’s 30 Minute Meals or a Riverford Farm edition by the iconic Guy Singh Watson. The pages of Delia Smith’s classic scones were well-thumbed and the brown leather binding worn and torn. This book had been privy to kitchen disasters, children’s messy hands and baking adventures. Now, a few years on, my passion for cooking remains. I may have moved on from the old-school classics, and, sure, my shelves are full of the Yotam Ottolenghi classics—Simple remains a go-to—but, I’m also a collector of many, many more.
It was when flicking through the pages of Jonathan Nunn’s London Feeds Itself that I began considering the impact of food, cuisine and the process of cooking on communities, people, friends and family. Noting that 40% of restaurant reviews in London’s vast culinary sphere are made up of spots in an area of only a few square miles, Nunn treads further afield. He goes off the beaten track.
He talks of the aubergines at Uncle Wrinkle and the Levant Book Café created by Sameh Asami—a café-cum-library where families and friends go to play board games, read books and dine on Syrian home-cooked food. Most importantly, he talks about the community effect. Yes, we can all easily grab a coffee to-go at Starbucks or a soup and roll from one of the many, many Prets that clutter London city, but it won’t stick in your mind the way that the guest-chef sandwiches at Gladwell’s or chana masala from the iconic corner-shop in Stoke Newington, Londis N16, do. A whole host of these chic joints can be found in our soon-to-be-published London guide.
That is why I have curated a list (though a non-exhaustive one) of some of my favourite cookery books written by chefs from some of gloobles’ well-trodden and beloved London gems. For not only is London the thriving hub of fine-dining haunts, back-alley bakeries and lots and lots of small plates, it’s also a creative nucleus. And though for the most part I follow the age-old saying “don't judge a book by its cover,” when it comes to cookery books, all non-aesthetic pretenses go out the window. Cookery book or coffee table prop: are they really distinguishable? So. Time to take those squid ink flatbreads from Black Axe Mangal and that Duck Soup radicchio and blood orange salad home with you! Cookbook in tow, you're ready to take on anything, and everything.
Beginning with one of London’s staples: Towpath. We have long talked about this not-so-quaint though absurdly cosy waterfront café as an escape from city life. Where menus are scribbled on chalkboards, your most casual of attire is acceptable and, despite the lunchtime weekend queues, fellow Londoners forget their worries by chatting and laughing. Neighbours unite in eager anticipation to get their hands on a confit garlic with goats curd on toast and fill their bellies with the grilled cheese and quince jam sarnie. To satisfy our Towpath cravings, and withdrawals when it rolls down its shutters for the winter chill, we turn to its book, Towpath: Recipes & Stories. Separated into seasons, woven with tales of the conversations overheard in the restaurant, this book beautifully recounts the opening of what has become Regent’s Canal jewel. Yes. We very well may all know how to cook a cheese toastie, but how many of you would know how to brighten that dinner table with a vibrantly-pink beetroot borani? I bet not so many.
On the thread of London waterfront spots, we turn to The River Café. Long the spot for the freshest produce and finest Italian feast, but it’s not every day you can gobble up a primi, secondi and dolci at this Michelin-starred spot...as much as we’d dream of otherwise! Thankfully, to celebrate it’s 30th birthday, the cookbook we’d all been waiting for, River Café 30, arrived. With 320 pages to rifle through and 100 of their “simple” Italian recipes to recreate, there is something for everyone. Even those souls hopeless in the kitchen. You’ll soon be rustling up a ricotta al forno for Sunday dinner. Pair it with an appetiser from Brutto: A (Simple) Florentine Cookbook, and you have the dinner party of dreams. Take restaurant Brutto’s wise words: sometimes “brutto ma buono is the way to go.”
Far from “brutto”, Sambal Shiok: The Malaysian Cookbook by Mandy Yin is aesthetic in every aspect. Pop-up to permanent, Sambal Shiok is one of those spots that never fails to blow our socks off. An ode to her blisteringly tasty laska is enough to have our mouths watering and tummies rumbling. As unfortunate as it is, I don’t live anywhere close to Highbury. Sambal Shiok must be—in all my best efforts—recreated in my somewhat humbler kitchen. Though perhaps only Yin’s mastery can make those sweet coconut rice cakes with pandan custard so symmetrically square. Safe to say we’ll give it our best shot. What is more, whilst the satay burgers are sizzling and the makrut lime leaf salsa is pickling, you can become engrossed by Yin’s tales of her past whilst delving into her mother’s age-old recipe intel. It’s a book that spends more time on the kitchen bench than it does on a bookshelf.
Ah! And a book gleaming, ready to be picked up. Bright orange with bold, block-print yellow text. Plentiful. When news reached us that Denai Moore was opening her own permanent patty shop, Flaky! in Dalston Yard, we were thrilled. Though, when we’re after our own “oohs and aahs” at the dinner table, a little flick through the pages of Moore’s book is enough to whip up a showstopper. A vegan holy grail for Jamaican food: whether you head straight to the “food for company” chapter, flick to the "sides that have main event energy” or go full-wham with a “dessert as a lifestyle,” it’ll be a table-spread to impress.
One of my recent all-round favourites is Clare Finney & Liz Seabroek’s The Female Chef. Not only for the recipes curated by a collaboration of over 30 pioneering female chefs—Anna Jones, Pamela Yung from Flor and Julie Ling founder of Ga Ga Kitchen (a Glasgow staple)—but also for giving an honest take on the infamous gender imbalance in the professional kitchen. One look at Slutty Cheff’s now-viral Instagram reveals this. In A Woman’s Place is in the Kitchen, Sally Abé recounts the gruelling hours spent working in hospitality. Now at the helm of The Pem, which has an 80% female-led kitchen team in London, she is one of the most sought-after, highly acclaimed chefs of her time. Though the tomato consommé and Dorset crab crumpet may have to remain a secret of The Pem, Abé’s book remains a kitchen essential.
The list could go on. The beauty of the recipe book is in the tales that it tells, the stories you discover and, of course, the mastery that you can recreate on the plate. We certainly like to doll up and dine out, but there’s also something quite unique about taking the restaurant home. Thumbed through pages, scribbled-out remarks and bookmarks at our favourite tales. Consider a recipe book a memoir. And a personal one at that.
Hannah Rees-Middleton
Wild swimming. Natural wine. Excellent exhibitions. And glorious country walks. These are a few of our editor Hannah Rees-Middleton’s favourite things. Whether she’s bouncing around Mexico, paddling through the Kenwood Ladies’ Pond or ogling another mound of butter at a fabulous supper club, Hannah is always in the midst of something cool. A consummate planner, a lover of beautiful things, a traveller never without a camera and a deck of cards. Hannah is many things (including the perfect resource for perfect travel tips).
