Joyful reading
A quick roundup of my recent reading
Last week’s Guardian Feast newsletter was written by Itamar Srulovich who owns and runs Honey & Co with Sarit Packer. They are launching a small studio across the road from their restaurant on Lambs Conduit St, described as “a space for small things that can’t happen in a dining room but still feed the soul.” Pottery, drawing, workshops, book discussions and more are in the works.
“Is it indulgent?” he asks. “Maybe. But it feels necessary. What with the headlines the way they are right now – wars, tariffs, elections, the cost of living, who will be the next pope, is anyone really ready for Cate Blanchett’s retirement? It’s tempting to give in to the weight of it all, but then something small happens, like a bowl of hummus that tastes just right, or a perfect tomato, and you remember that joy helps you stay in the fight. It fortifies.”
That last sentence sums up my philosophy of life. Too often, we feel guilty for expressing— and even feeling— joy and pleasure while others suffer, but donning a hair shirt helps no one. The amazing thing about humans is our capacity to find pleasure no matter how terrible the circumstances. Listen out for swifts. Reread a favourite book. Turn your face to the sun. Curl your hand around a mug of warm tea. Enjoy the first good tomatoes. You are not a monstrously uncaring human for doing this. Live well and fully and help others.
I don’t usually read celebrity-adjacent memoirs but Emine Saner’s interview with E.A. Hanks, the writer daughter of Tom and author of The 10 is so good, I have ordered a copy. I think I’d like E.A. Her memoir is pegged to the retracing of a road trip from California to Florida taken by the author and her extremely abusive, mentally ill, addicted mother when she was fourteen: “…three awkward, silent, painful months that would end up with us in Florida.” Hanks’s compassionate insights into her parents’ lives made my eyes sting. Not food-related, but I think you might like it.
On Bluesky a few weeks ago, I posted about my dislike of dishwashers or, more specifically, loading them. I’d spent the weekend at my friends where the machine is on constantly (they entertain a lot), so I pitched in with feeding the beast- UGH. Having to fit dirty, used cutlery into little slots revolts me, as do the drips of food and non-bodily fluids all over the interior as you do so. And what a faff! I’d honestly rather handle human bodies and body waste (I know, I know- illogical to most of you!). Anyway, this piece by Dwight Garner on the quiet joy of dishwashing by hand pleased me. (And yes, I worked as a plongeur and pub cook back in the day when we had to rinse first, and as a trainee patissiere- so I know dishwashing machines are important.)
For the love of God, can someone commission Matthew Rowley to write about this please?
And here’s Matthew on the history of the American milkshake for Imbibe.
It's not published in the UK until July, but I'm reading a review copy of this incredible novel by Leila Mottley. Leila’s writing is lush and rightfully unapologetic. If you loved Karen Russell's Swamplandia, I think you'll love this too.
Three newsletters I adore:
writes 'The Bakers Cottage'. Fanny was an OG blogger whose recipes always work, taste beautiful, and are accompanied by gentle, evocative writing. She's a trained pastry chef who runs the kitchen at Bryggargatan.
from Heddi, an American food writer and author living in French-speaking Switzerland, is as deliciously inspiring as her cookbooks. writes ‘Spatchcock’, a newsletter that is in my top 5. He’s a James Beard and IACP nominee working on a memoir tentatively titled ‘John Wayne’s Balls’ and a sharply funny writer/raconteur with seriously great recipes and delicious celebrity-adjacent stories.
Some English food history from Club Gina. ‘A day when you learn something new is never wasted’ was one of my grandfather’s favourite sayings. I learned something new about the Tottenham cake!
Another reminder of my grandfather (God, I miss him so much!) Last month, I visited The Food Museum for the launch of their School Dinners Exhibition and wandered around the kitchen garden. The lovely glasshouse was filled with potted show auriculas about to flower, and trays of potatoes being chitted. The scent of sun-warmed dusty earth whooshed me back to the late seventies and my grandfather’s shed, home to seed potatoes, spindly tomato plants, tray after tray of lobelia and petunia seedlings — plus one granddaughter.
Here’s part one of my spring food book roundup for Suffolk News.
In March, I visited Strasbourg and saw the gorgeous faience stoves and ovens (kachelofen) at the Musée Alsacien.
Last May, we spent an excellently mad day with Greg, a bartender friend in New Orleans, who drove us to a HUGE casino between Biloxi and Gulfport, in Mississippi. Lunch at its buffet required military levels of planning to ensure I covered as much ground as possible (giant copper pans filled with schlag at the gelato station! A personal funnel cake chef with the most beautiful ocean blue eyes! Deep-fried sushi- much better than it sounds! Plates piled high with collards, cornbread, catfish, grits and country ham!) Once we could eat no more, we waddled onto the gaming floor for a quick gamble (came away $29 up!) where I got hypnotised by the swirly psychedelic carpet, then went to meet his Tia Julie at her condo on the oceanfront. A stop at one of Louisiana’s many drive-in frozen daiquiri stands on the drive back to the city was mandatory. I ordered a tangerine frozen daiquiri that had never been near an actual tangerine. Greg’s car is huge and high off the ground, and being just five one means I have to hurl myself in and out; a huge frozen cocktail made me fearless and massively elegant. Yeah, in Louisiana, it is legal to drive with alcohol in the car as long as you meet certain conditions. Wayne Curtis has written the history of drive-thru daiquiri stands. I love the nostalgic photos.
While we’re on the subject of New Orleans, Mayukh Sen has written about Lena Richard: “Before Leah Chase was nourishing heads of state at Dooky Chase’s; before the likes of Paul Prudhomme, Justin Wilson, and Kevin Belton were spreading the gospel of New Orleans cooking on public television; and long before Nina Compton parlayed a stint on Top Chef to opening renowned restaurants in the city, Lena Richard was perhaps New Orleans cuisine’s most prominent ambassador.” Longtime readers of my newsletter may recall my often-repeated question: WHY HASN’T ANYONE MADE A GOOD DOCUMENTARY OR DRAMATISATION ABOUT THIS AMAZING PIONEER?
You need Lena Richard’s cookbook.
I made a rhubarb, damson and apple brown sugar cobbler with damsons picked last autumn and frozen. I like crumble, but I love cobblers. Seek out recipes by American bakers WITH NO ‘SPINS’ OR ‘TWISTS’ for classic Americana. (I would link to a good article about cobblers and other vintage American puddings but the author thought it okay to take loads of grinning selfies at my friend’s funeral so they are on my shit list. Also, politicians taking selfies at the POPE’S funeral - WTF?!?) The peach version at Dooky Chase was one of my peak cobbler experiences; I took
Cloake there when she was cycling around the USA writing her book Peach Street to Lobster Lane: Coast to Coast in Search of Real American Cuisine, to be published in June.
If you haven’t read Crystal Wilkinson’s Praisesong for Kitchen Ghosts, you should! This book is one of the best antidotes to Vance's ridiculous and reductive book about Appalachian culture. Crystal Wilkinson was born into a family of storytellers who recorded their experiences through cookery, the spoken word, music, art and craft, and working their gardens and farms in tandem with the natural world. Through forty recipes, many of which were not written down, Crystal records her testimony, paying homage to the men and women - her kitchen ghosts- who came before. It's a masterpiece.
Here are some beautiful geums. I love them.
Some of these links are affiliated with my Bookshop.org page
I had no idea you were 5'1! You have much taller energy.
Thank you so much for including The Bakers’ Cottage in your roundup, Nic – it means the world to me. And the history of the milkshake, I will devour it. Right up my alley! Thank you for the discovery.