My Great Big Autumn Cookbook Guide

I’ll spare you a lengthy introduction because this is a lengthy newsletter. Here are some of my favourite cookbook releases from late summer to mid-autumn 2022. Later this November, I’ll publish part II.

JapanEasy Bowls & Bento: Simple and Satisfying Japanese Recipes for All Day, Every Day by Tim Anderson (Hardie Grant)

I enjoyed Sayaka Murata’s Convenience Store Woman, so I was delighted to see a quote from her at the start of Tim Anderson’s latest cookbook, itself a tribute to his nostalgic love and affection for conbini, Japanese convenience stores about which he writes, “the food is always fresh, varied, nourishing and even exciting…the whole conbini ethos is that everybody deserves a good meal, at any time of day, every day of the week.” He describes JapanEasy as a “sort of strategy guide” filled with recipes that can be prepped in advance and eaten later in the spirit of a conbini-bought meal. Anderson’s interpretation of Atsuko Ikeda’s ‘triangle way’ of eating, where rice pickles and soup form the triangle's base with a large main dish above, is explored via words and infographics, which helps break down a complex, culturally nuanced concept into something Japanese food neophytes can understand. A section on ‘your conbini kitchen’ provides guidance on useful crockery and cooking equipment alongside two pages of illustrated notes. As you read it, you’ll smile because of Anderson’s humour and the affection he affords his subject.

A case in point: a hangover-induced order of a Maccy D Sausage and Egg McMuffin caused Anderson to realise that what was lacking was the comfort of plain white rice. Plonking the egg, sausage and cheese onto the rice and dousing it in Burmese chilli oil led him to create a recipe for Sausage and Egg ‘McDonburi’. Referencing the existence of microwaves in conbini for the heating of one’s purchased food, there are several recipes for greens cooked in this way in the ‘small sides’ section: Microwaved Runner Beans with Yuzu Ginger Miso and a silky, squishy Mabo Aubergine made suitable for inclusion in a bento box by cooking it in a microwave sans oil stand out. Later in the book, I am taken by a Crab and Spinach Doria, which he says challenges the rather sweeping orthodoxy of Japanese food as universally ‘light’ although a recipe for Clear Soup with Radishes, Thin Noodles and Ponzu is an exquisitely delicate example of the latter. I’m also a fan of his Scotch Bonnet-pickled Bamboo Shoots and a dramatic bowl of Shimeji Mushroom and Okra Miso Soup which will, as my grandfather used to say, put feathers on your chest this coming winter. Usefully, there’s a recipe for Japanese-style sandwich bread (so you can make Anderson’s Blueberry Cheesecake Sandwich) with an interesting explanation of what makes it so delectable and different, two descriptive words that equally apply to this gorgeous book.

Homage: Recipes and Stories From an Amish Soul Food Kitchen by Chris Scott with Sarah Zorn (Chronicle Books)

Early this year, I read an Op-Ed in the Los Angeles Times by Christopher Carter which called for a reexamination of soul food. What does this term mean now? “How might soul food tell stories about who we want to become, and not only who we once were… Telling and retelling these stories allows Black people to understand our food within the context of our own histories — and to ensure that our dietary changes preserve and promote the communities we come from,” he asked. I was reminded of his words when I began to read Homage by Chris Scott, which explores the author’s family’s fascinating story through the medium of narrative, recipes, evocative photographs and memorabilia. Scott’s food melds German, Dutch and Southern influences, stretching back seven generations to his enslaved ancestors, moving onto a great-grandfather who migrated to Pennsylvania after the Emancipation Programme, Scott’s own childhood in Amish country and his adult life as a chef-patron in NYC. “For centuries, food has served as a bridge, allowing us to both memorialize our painful pasts and give weight to our sorrows whilst also celebrating our resilience, our triumphs and the paths we forged to the other side,” he writes after beginning with a moving polemic about the effects of George Floyd’s murder on the psyche of younger Black men and a call to socio-culinary arms via good food, mentorship, decolonisation and education. God, this is a powerful book.

Scott draws parallels between the persecution endured by the Amish that caused them to flee from Europe to the United States and that of newly-emancipated Black people who fled the South. “Amish soul food may sound like a newfangled creation, but it’s based on the very real history that my family shares with so many others,” he tells us. “The Amish community and the Black communities may not have used ingredients in the same way, but they shared the same resources. When they reached into the pantry, they came up with the same things.” In a nutshell, “Amish food, soul food and Amish soul food are about making the best of what you have. It’s the way of the poor people.”

He returns to a time before his ancestors' enslavement when they lived in the Caribbean and explores what they might have eaten. In Amish culture, meals blend proteins, starches and vegetables enhanced by what he refers to as ‘sweets and sours’. Pickling, preserving, and canning was— and remains— an important culinary keystone and jams, molasses, pickles, chutneys, and vinegary relishes like Chow Chow and compotes are the sweets and sours he refers to. Looking at this in reverse, he writes about the Caribbean fondness for Preserved Mango, uses okra in Chow Chow, and flavours his Yam Molasses with allspice. His recipe for Johnnycakes with Apple Butter is a classic Amish go-to but in his restaurant Butterfunk Kitchen, he served them with Jerk Pork and Chow Chow. The Amish also had to eat low on the hog at times and scrapple, a kind of soft meat pudding made from pork trimmings blended with cornmeal and fried until it develops a thick savoury crust, is one of their traditional foods. Scott’s version is more ‘refined’, maybe even cheffy, which he riffs off by naming it Crispy ‘City Mouse’ Scrapple, adding buckwheat flour and frying slices in butter. A Creamed Chipped Beef comes with a delicious Brown Milk Gravy and Toast, Turkey necks are cooked Gumbo-style and served over rice, Tripe is fried until crispy and served with hot vinegar peppers, and he offers us a recipe for Chicken-Fried Tempeh. On the lighter side, there are recipes for Green Leaf Lettuce and Cornbread Panzanella, Charred Radicchio Salad with Cola-Boiled Peanuts and Amish Cheddar, Butter Cracker-Crusted Perch with Sweet and Sour Green and Wax Beans, and Mustard Greens with Lemongrass Rice. I adore the bread and pudding sections: Sorghum Molasses Parker House Rolls, Black-Eyed pea Donuts, Brown Sugar Buttermilk Biscuits (and I’d eat these with his Prune Compound Butter), and ice creams made with buttermilk cornbread are gorgeous. I am desperate to make Scott’s take on the Butterscotch Krimpet, what he describes as ‘the Big Daddy’ of the Pennsylvanian boxed cake brand, TastyKakes. Reimagined as a maple donut, it sounds delectable.

Pierogi by Zuza Zak (Quadrille, £18)

I’ll start by saying just how much I love to hold this cookbook. As convenient as screen readers are, Pierogi has so much portability and neat personality in its design and smaller shape you’ll want to own a physical copy. This is particularly apt considering its subject matter is one of the most personable and portable things you can eat: dumplings. How can you not adore a recipe that goes by the name ‘Meaty Manty of the Tatars’?!

Author of two previous books about Polish food and culture, Zak introduces Pierogi by telling us how “the big irony of my writing this book is that I set off on my food-writing career to prove that Polish food was more than ‘just dumplings’…Attitudes to Polish (and Eastern European) food have since changed globally,” she adds, “so there is nothing left to prove, only to enjoy and explore.”

And explore she does. Pierogi is divided into two main categories: traditional and modern, initially divided by region, then broadening into an exploration of new flavour combinations and the influence of the Polish diaspora. The recipes are punctuated by lovely little essays about particular ingredients (mountain cheese, herring, beer, and wild mushrooms are just four of them) and evocative descriptions of Poland and its regions. Twenty pages of clearly-photographed advice on practicalities, ingredients and techniques precede the recipes; I recommend reading this section and practising as you go with a small batch of dough. It will give you confidence. I am smitten by recipes for Honey Drop Dumplings made with yeasted honey and raisin-scented dough before being dressed with butter, breadcrumbs and sugar; Tatras-Style Lazy Dumplings from the mountains with a sour cream sauce and flavoured with cheese; ‘UFO’ Dumplings with Crispy Bacon Bits (so-named because of their flying saucer shape), and a recipe named after St Jack, the patron saint of pierogi and filled with mushrooms, lemon, mint, and cheese. For Christmas, we are treated to Baked Paszteciki filled with mushrooms and English-style Marmalade Pierożki fried in goose fat, among others.

In the preface to the modern section, Zak asks: “How can we be creative in the process of dumpling making whilst staying true to the nature of such a culturally significant dish?” before taking us with her on a journey through diasporic innovation. She offers us Buttermilk Pierogi with Broad Beans and Feta, Chocolate Pampuchy with Plum Butter and Parsnip Kluski in Vegetable Broth. Zak even includes a few gluten-free recipes using buckwheat, potato flour, and sweet potatoes.

Masa: Techniques, Recipes, and Reflections on a Timeless Staple by Jorge Gaviria (Chronicle Books LLC)

Jorge Gaviria is the founder of Masienda, a supplier of excellent masa and masa products to the American food and hospitality trade and a classically-trained chef. “What makes for decadent, wholly flavorful, outrageously good masa,” he asks in MASA, his first book and a complete story of a fundamental building block of Mexican cuisine (although masa is “not strictly Mexican, it is culturally plural”, he is careful to say). He begins with his own journey from storebought tortillas and masa made with Maseca, the prepackaged masa harina commonly bought in the USA and, quite often, the only way to make fresh tortillas. For Gaviria, Maseca “represented a fresh, major step up from the local bodega tortillas” he’d previously bought - until it no longer was. So he embarked on trips to Mexico to meet growers of landrace corn, the agronomists who worked with them, people who specialise in the art of nixtamalization and hundreds of local cooks and chefs until his business and now, this book was born.

MASA is a technical primer on making your own masa, but if you can buy good quality masa from local stores, you will still find it useful because the book is packed with recipes and tips on how to use it. (I found the frying and reheating guides and pictorial guide to pliability valuable- far too many handmade tortillas in the UK are dry and crumbly, and from people who should know better.) If you want to make your own, I recommend reading every word first; this book is indispensable for those who have no choice but to do this if they want the good stuff. Plus, you’ll learn how to make traditional bolos, atole, gorditas and arepas, huaraches, tetelas, puffy, chewy salbuts, and modern chef-led recipes: I loved the sound of coffee atole, and masa-based tempura batter, gnocchi and sourdough. There’s more to masa than making tortillas for tacos, as delicious as these are.

MASA is beautiful and very clearly written. It’s a proper passion project that contextualises masa’s ancient history and exciting future (think of the latter as a third wave). Gaviria’s book suggests the possibilities for its use are boundless. I only wish we had a supplier like Masienda in the UK; dream on, girl.

Gateau: The Surprising Simplicity of French Cakes by Aleksandra Crapanzano, Illustrated by Cassandre Montoriol (Scribner)

The French bake at home far more than we imagine” writes Aleksandra Crapanzano in the introduction to Gateau. “But maybe more important, they bake far more simply than we imagine, and mostly from a range of classics that lend themselves to seasonal riffing and improvisation. What they don’t do is labor over the grand and intricate patisserie that is what we’ve come to think of as French baking.” Novelty is not embraced for its own sake, regional identity is treasured, and the classics are mastered before any improvisation is approved. The French believe in the power of celebration, but they feel no need to compete with professional patissiers to achieve this.

We begin with a chapter titled ‘The Simplest of the Classics’ with recipes for Les Gâteaux au Yaourt, Les Quarts-Quarts (pound cake), and Les Cakes. I felt my shoulders relax as I read this chapter title. Every child in France learns how to make a yoghurt cake in nursery school and Crapanzano offers many variations on this from the ur-classic to Lemon Verbena Peach Yoghurt Cake and a Brown Sugar, Rum and Chocolate Chip version. We get a template recipe for the classic Quarts-Quarts accompanied by six pages of delectable variations, cleverly summed up in a readable and non-overwhelming manner and beautifully illustrated (there are no photos in this book). I love the sound of her Fennel, Orange and Golden Raisin Quart-Quart. There are gluten-free fig cakes, a Flourless Brown Butter Hazelnut Torte, a Spelt Chocolate and Coffee Cake, and ‘Un Grand Gâteau a L’Orange’. Later, there are recipes for regional classics like the Gâteau Breton, a section on nut cakes and tortes, ‘cakes to layer’, madeleines and financiers, ‘the chic, delicious and playful’, savoury cakes (‘Cake Croque Monsieur’!) and an entire holiday section brimming with recipes for all the Bûche de Noëls you could ever need. Recipes are in imperial and metric.

Cooking: Simply and Well, for One or Many by Jeremy Lee ( 4th Estate)

This exquisite book is the literary equivalent of Slow Food and a perfect example of one chef’s delicious experience hard-won over time; Jeremy Lee has taken years to write this book, and it could only be this way; Lee appears to be a man who would find a hastier writing process rather unseemly. “The idea for the book was simplicity itself, an arbitrary collection of favourite dishes and ingredients in a form inspired by so many writers,” he tells us in the book’s acknowledgements. “I quickly learned the many differences between writing a book and writing a menu.” And here we have the crux of this book: it may have been written by the much-loved chef of Quo Vadis in London, but it is very much a book with home cooks in mind. “Although I began this book thinking it would be a collection of recipes learned during my time spent in restaurant kitchens, I’ve come to realise that it was during those warm, comforting, nourishing dishes that I made during lockdown that form the heart of it,” he writes.

This is an ingredient-led book with chapters arranged alphabetically; essays and musings punctuate recipes, as do illustrations by John Broadley (who also designs the Quo Vadis menu) and photographs by Elena Heatherwick. The chapter titles are wonderful: “Chard, Such Extraordinary Plumage”, “Walnuts, the Redoubtable Nut”, “Fish, Shiny Darlings Lifted From the Deep”, and you can imagine him exclaiming these very words as he chats to stallholders at his local market. Lee has a gentle Scottish burr, I encourage you to listen to him speak so you can read his words with his voice in your head. Lee is devoted to seasonality: “It is invariably the ingredients that spark the thought of what the next meal will be,” he writes. Yes, he has a job and a lifestyle that affords him access to high-quality food sold by people who are experts and able to advise him on how to best cook something (and one would expect this, after all), but there’s accessibility too. An entire chapter on bread crumbs unspools elegantly from a memory of his mother’s kitchen “where there was always a tray of crusts like ancient fallen ruins on, in or near the oven”, reminding us of the glory of a plate of pasta dressed in lemony coarse crumbs, the usefulness of a store of “little bags filled with fresh breadcrumbs, tied and then frozen” and recipes for parsley crumbs, sippets and croutons, a spiced marmalade steamed pudding and bread sauce made with the ‘creamiest milk’. It got me thinking about garnishing a bowl of baked beans with toasted seasoned breadcrumbs in the spirit of simplicity and cooking with what you have. There are recipes for Cottage Pie, Sardines on Toast with Fried Egg, Caramelised Apples, Cock-a-Leekie, Tomato Salads, Pots of Lentils flavoured with smoked streaky bacon, Bramble Brûlée, and Walnut Cake. On a more rarefied level, you will find a recipe for the famous Quo Vadis Smoked Eel Sandwich and a gorgeous set of instructions for making profiteroles with their delectable component parts and an index entry that says “Assembly of the Profiteroles’ which could not sound more Jeremy Lee if it tried.

Jams With a Twist: 70 deliciously different jam recipes to inspire and delight (National Trust) by Kylee Newton (National Trust Books). Illustrated by Claire Harrup.

“These aren’t your typical jams,” says Kylie Newton in this small yet mighty illustrated guide to jam-making, commissioned by the National Trust as they themselves undergo something of a transformation as to how best to represent British history in all its messy complexity. The Trust wanted something a little more contemporary that still respects what has gone before, and in the case of preserving, this is important because there are fundamental processes one must follow. But there remains much scope for experimentation further down the line, and this is where Newton comes in.

Divided into sections (Flavour Twists; Pick to Preserve; Jelly Floats; the Layered Effect; Sundae Funday) and an entire section where ‘your favourite desserts’ are packed into jars, she shows us how to add alcohol, flowers and herbs, teas, nuts and spices to jams (greengage and lemon thyme, gooseberry and nigella seed, Vermouth poached pear, and cherry and cacao nib), how to preserve spruce needles into jelly, add angelica to wild strawberries to make the compote, and use hawthorn and wild fennel seeds in jellies. There’s a fantastic recipe for whitecurrant and blueberry bubble jelly, a pepper storm lemon jelly that, she suggests, makes a great cold remedy, topping for ice cream or marinade for roast pineapple, a mahonia and ginger jelly that is used to make a trifle, and apple and cinnamon shortcrust pots with a layer of freshly cooked apple and apple and ginger jelly under a pastry lid. A play on the classic English strawberries and cream, the stalwart of Trust tearooms, where freshly-baked scones are layered into a jar and filled with cream and Newton’s rhubarb and rose jam, is heartwarming.

Spice: A Cook's Companion by Mark Diacono (Quadrille Publishing Ltd)

I think of Mark Diacono as the Ray Davies of the food-writing world. He has that wry, down-to-earth English sensibility and a similar ability to pin to the page the bittersweet minutiae of life in such a way as to make it feel universal, no matter the background of his reader. There's nostalgia in Diacono’s writing, but like Davies, he doesn’t become mired in it. He weaves sociocultural references into his work without making me feel like an undergraduate in a media studies lecture (check his new newsletter to see great examples) and is often very funny, but takes recipe writing seriously and sets out his stall sensitively yet decisively concerning the reporting and making of food from other cultures. To this end, he asked other food writers to contribute recipes (Disclaimer: I'm one of them.) Sumayya Usmani, José Pizarro, MiMi Aye, and Irina Georgescu are among the writers featured. I particularly enjoyed Yemisi Aribisala’s essay that accompanies her recipe for Pepper Kola with Grains of Paradise (or, as she writes, ‘pepper kola with grains of paradise…no, rather with alligator peppers’).

From Diacono himself, you’ll find masses of advice about spices, spice blends and recipes to make your own, little paragraphs on how each spice is popularly used across cultures, and its 'affinities', making it easier for us to use up a spice in many different recipes rather than leaving the jar languishing on the shelf. His recipes for Seven-Spice Roast Sprouts, Baharat Blackcurrant Eccles Cakes, Sweet Long Pepper Cream, Cape Malay Spiced Walnuts, Bacon and Caraway Tart, Duck, Pork and Butter Bean Paella, and Sweet Garam Masala Figs leap off the page. As I proofread this review, I found myself mouthing the titles of his recipes over and over again like a mantra. If you are feeling anxious, try this, it works.

Biting Biting: Snacking Gujarati-Style by Urvashi Roe (Kitchen Press)

It is customary to offer refreshments when someone visits your home, or you visit theirs, writes Urvashi Roe. In Gujarat, these are called 'Katak Batak’, slang for ‘small bites’ or “a little something or other”, she says, but in Roe’s family, Katak Batak is known as ‘Biting, Biting’, hence the title of her book. Roe was born in Tanzania after her grandfather made his way to Zanzibar from Gujarat in India and built a life there. Sadly, political unrest in neighbouring Uganda led Roe and her family to move back to India and then to London in the late seventies. “Our food today is a cultural mishmash of what we like from around the world,” she says, although, like many children of the diaspora, it is the food of her childhood to which she returns when in need of comfort.

Therefore, Gujarat is renowned for a culture of hospitality which has birthed innovative and economical ways of deliciously feeding groups of people at (often) short notice. (There’s a helpful and wittily-titled guide to timings at the back of the book.) This relies on a well-equipped store cupboard, but “of all the regions in India, I think we use the least complex variations of spices,” Roe writes. There are a lot of recipes here that are economical to make for this reason, so don’t worry if you cannot afford an extensive spice kit. Roe’s recipe for BBQ Green Bananas requires only fruit, lemon, optional honey, chilli powder and salt and a beer snack of flavoured peanuts uses the same flavourings. A jar of terracotta-hued Garlic and Red Chilli Chutney uses just five ingredients, as does the delicious Cumin-Spiced Cheese on Toast, and a recipe for Jaggery Fudge asks for just four.

Sections on Bhajia (fried snacks), Farsan (salty snacks) and Shaak (Gujurat for ‘curry’) will drive you mad with hunger. I adore Gujarati Mashed Potato Burger made with leftover Bateta Vada mash (there’s a recipe for this) and flavoured with chutney and pomegranate seeds, Rice Flour Dumplings (Kichee) spicy from green chillis and cumin seeds, Potato Shaak that comes with a page of suggestions for its use, an ingenious Baked Bean Shaak, and (my favourite recipe of all) Sweetcorn and Cashew Curry. Lemon and Turmeric Flattened Rice is made with Pawa (dried flakes of parboiled rice sold in Asian grocers) - a completely new product to me. Roe suggests eating it with fried or poached eggs for a Sunday breakfast; toasted sunflower seeds and pomegranate seeds add crunch. A soup uses leftover rotis to add comfort and substance to a delicately-spiced yoghurt-based broth. If you have a sweet tooth, make Roe’s Falooda redolent with the scent of rose syrup, flaked almonds, pistachios, sweet vermicelli and vanilla ice cream. To drink, a pale celadon Green Chilli Margarita, a favourite of her husband Tone or a Swahili Salt and Cumin-Spiced Chaash (known in India as a Lassi).

Freeze Fresh: The Ultimate Guide to Preserving 55 Fruits and Vegetables for Maximum Flavor and Versatility by Crystal Schmidt (Storey Publishing)

Crystal Schmidt wants you to be smart about what you freeze and learn how to use frozen food in ways that highlight its best qualities, and this US-published primer is perfectly placed to do that, arranged as it is into three main sections; an expansive guide to how to freeze common fruits and vegetables, recipes to make that can then be frozen, and recipes using frozen produce. By reading the ‘science bit,’ you’ll feel more confident about techniques like steam or boiling water blanching, how to thaw your food and prepare specific fruits and vegetables for the freezer to preserve their textural integrity and flavour in the most effective manner. Temperatures are offered in Fahrenheit and Celsius, although metric weights aren’t used. The recipes are a mixture of innovative and well-trodden: I hadn’t thought of freezing homemade apple cider or apple-orange brown sugar butter, for example. I like Schmidt’s recipe for Honey-Lemonade Concentrate, Freezer Pickles, the freezing of grapes to make Mulled Grape Cider, and Seedy Beet Crackers from frozen roots.

Diasporican: A Puerto Rican Cookbook by Illyanna Maisonet (Ten Speed Press)

"How I became a cook is not a romantic story," writes Illyanna Maisonet in her introduction to Diasporican, the first book from the USA’s first Puerto Rican columnist. (Maisonet wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle.). She challenges the dominant culinary trope for food writers of the diaspora: that they have grown up at their grandmother’s knee learning her secrets before they can barely walk. And this can limit the scope for documentarians of diasporic cuisine. The beauty of Maisonet's first book is that she will not allow herself to be defined this way, possibly one of the reasons why it has taken far too long for her to get a deal. (Another reason is that too many publishers claimed there would be no market for this book. How wrong can you be?)

So what we have here is a book about Maisonet’s life in California, and Puerto Rican cooking both on the island and among its diaspora. Her direct writing frames Puerto Rico’s non-singular nature and richly details a complex, often painful history. “Before you even taste the flavor of a Bacalaito, you hear the crunch. The center was toothsome like our gente’s—our people’s—resistance, salty from the tears we’ve shed, but the edges were delicate and vulnerable, like when we reveal our underbellies,” she writes. And the food is delicious too, but you know that already if you follow Maisonet on social media. She offers us recipes for making our own Sazón and Adobo seasonings and offers no apologies for including traditional Puerto Rican ingredients, which may require you to put in some footwork to find them. She is generous in her translations, but this is not the book for you if you are not prepared to put in a little effort or have come to rely on whitewashing. Maisonet’s recipe for Lechon runs to ten pages on my Kindle and takes two days to prep and a further eight hours to cook; the story of its preparation is nourishing in itself.

Some of my favourites? Arepas de Coco, Mojo Chicken, Caldo Santo, Spaghetti with Not Fideos, Brazo Gitano (a cake with Andalusian roots), Arroz con Jueyesa, Ron de Barrilito Rum Cake which “is a little all over the place with nods of acknowledgement to several cake specialities across the island”, and a Bacalao Ensalada that is relatively unadorned because that’s how Maisonet’s Mami and Nana served it. This Ensalada is one of the few Puerto Rican recipes Maisonet remembers her mother making with her own mother. “They’d cook butt to gut as if no remorse or resentment existed between them,” she writes.

Stagioni: Contemporary Italian Cooking to Celebrate the Seasons by Olivia Cavalli (Harper Collins)

When I first saw Stagioni, I wondered what might make it different to the other lovely Italian cookbooks in my collection, also based on seasonal eating, which we have been told time and time again Italians do. I thought back to a conversation I had with an Italian food writer who bemoaned the increasing availability of non-seasonal foods in markets like Venice’s Rialto and the insidious effects supermarkets had on the Italian way of eating - especially in parts of Italy where transporting foodstuffs is quite costly. And living in Britain as I do, quite a few foodstuffs available in Italy at a more affordable price are less so here. However, this is a lovely — and warmly competent — vegetable-focused cookbook written by an experienced food writer (Olivia Cavalli has cooked in restaurants in London and Italy and has written about food for a broadsheet newspaper as well as cooking for supper clubs), which includes some surprising (for Italy) ingredients alongside more familiar ones used in fresh ways. I don’t recall seeing rhubarb for sale in many Italian markets, even though Marco Polo was reputed to have introduced the rhubarb root to Europe. Cavalli includes a recipe where its early spring pinkness adorns a Saffron Semifreddo. There’s also a recipe for Fig Rolls, which leans heavily into both English biscuit nostalgia and the Italian fondness for fig-based pastries.

Recipes span Italy, and quite a few are traditional through and through (ie Vignarola, Carciofi Alla Romana, Crostata di Marmellata, Polenta Incantenata, Budino Al Cioccolato, Grape Focaccia), but Cavalli adds interesting little twists to other creations, managing to remain true to their season, mood, and region of origin. I particularly like the sound of Struccolo di Patate con Fonduta e Verdure Ripassate, a potato strudel with cheesy sauce and twice-cooked greens whose roots lie in Trieste “where gnocchi dough is flattened, filled and rolled like a Swiss roll” and stuffed with greens before being showered with cheese. Traditionally this might be swerved with leftover ragù, butter, or the juices from the roasting tray, but Cavalli marries hers with a thick cheesy fonduta and serves her greens on the side. Her canederli (dumplings made from stale bread popular in northern Italy) are flavoured with leek and speck and served with brown butter, and she combines two famous Sicilian side dishes in one meal, serving caponata with panelle. A recipe for Princisgras from Le Marche is flavoured with the more economical mushroom rather than ur-traditional flakes of black truffle and is new to me. I hadn’t heard of Neapolitan ‘Reinforced Salad either, ’ served on Christmas Eve and topped up with fresh ingredients until New Year. Finally, I was delighted to find a recipe for Mimosa Cake, made in Italy to commemorate International Women’s Day, a beautiful cake in its traditional form and one I was served in Ischia. Cavalli adds layers of cloud-like meringue to hers, making it even more ethereal.

Motherland: A Jamaican Cookbook by Melissa Thompson (Bloomsbury Publishing)

Melissa Thompson grew up in Dorset, where she writes, “there were few Black people, let alone any Jamaican culture.” As she ate her dad’s ackee and saltfish in their Weymouth kitchen, “each bite rooted me further to the island, a place where—at the time—I had never even been.” Motherland is full of the recipes that Thompson describes as ‘an anchor’ to her father’s homeland and tells, in part, the story of her own travels to the island. “Today, more than ninety per cent of Jamaicans are descended from West and Central African people who were enslaved. And somewhere within that horrific system were my ancestors,” Thompson reminds us, adding, “the cuisine is a beautiful product of this violent chapter in world history.”

“From the Redware and Taíno peoples — the island’s earliest known settlers — to the Spanish and British colonialists, to the enslaved African men and women brought to toil on the land, to the Indians, Chinese and other peoples who called the island home, everyone left their mark,” Thompson writes, emphasising that “context matters”. Take her recipe for Oxtail Nuggets with Pepper Sauce Mayo. The Spanish brought cattle to Jamaica and left them to run wild: at one point, beef exports became one of Jamaica’s main sources of income. Having slaughtered most of the Taino, the Spanish bolstered their workforce through the forced movement of people from South America, other Caribbean islands and Africa. English colonisers began to farm the livestock, and Jamaicans provided the labour (of course). They didn’t have access to the choicest cuts of meat hence stewed oxtail, whose leftovers Thompson used to create these delicious nuggets, seasoned with a sauce made with peppers, chillies and cinnamon, all of which came to Jamaica from the Americas.

She writes of the Drax Estate, whose brick walls line mile after mile of road in Dorset, remembering her childhood fascination with the estate’s dramatic entrance. Its current owner is Richard Drax, the MP for South Dorset, his ancestors were slave traders, and the entire estate was built from the riches acquired from the sugar trade. Thompson does not shy away from the violence that underpins Jamaica’s culinary journey, and many of her stories are a dropkick to the stomach, but her book is also suffused with joy, triumphant, indomitable spirit and the pursuit of delicious pleasure through food, music and literature. Let’s not forget that Jamaica was also a sanctuary for persecuted Jews from Spain who brought the technique of escovitch to the island, resulting in Thompson’s take on Fried Fish with a vinegar-based sauce. Islanders still bake ‘Bun’, a spiced fruit cake that has evolved from the Hot Cross Buns brought by English Christian colonisers, but they made the original concept ten times better. And only Caribbeans could name a recipe for fried dumplings, Festival.

The Ital diet, which is mainly vegan although some fish can be eaten, is explored and contrasted with the west’s obsession with ‘fake meat’ and presented for what it is, the concept of ‘livity’ through a diet focused on vitality, simplicity and connection with nature. Thompson offers us delicious recipes for Smoky Aubergine Rundown (rundown= cooked down) seasoned with peppers, cumin, and pimento and loosened with coconut milk, Yam and Gungo Peas Stew, and Apple Coleslaw, among many others. Canned Gungo Peas are sold in larger Tesco branches and many international food stores. For meat eaters, try Ginger Beer Pork Belly and Jerk Pork (the latter with an in-depth essay about its origins), Tamarind and Ginger Roast Lamb, and Pepper Goat Skewers. A Grapefruit Cassava cake melds two aspects of Jamaica’s history: the Taino’s skill at farming cassava and the golden caster sugar once farmed by enslaved people, and Thompson’s Coco Drop Cheesecake is inspired by the eponymous local candy made from cooked-down coconut, sugar and fiery local ginger.

If Jamaica could tell her own story, Motherland would be the book she’d write.

The Joy of Snacks: A celebration of one of life's greatest pleasures, with recipes by Laura Goodman (Headline Home)

The ‘three square meals a day and no snacking between them’ orthodoxy is antithetical to effective digestion and emotional well-being. It murders spontaneity and joy, and if you buy into the mindful eating thing, then x3 meals at regular intervals are its polar opposite. Laura Goodman doesn’t put it quite as bluntly as I do, though, focusing more on the joy of snacks than ranting about people who decry them- which, to be fair, is far more palatable. She doesn’t shy from declarative statements, though: “You can’t ruin anything with joy”, she writes at the end of her book as she contemplates a packet of Mustard-flavoured Lays in an American supermarket in defiance of a voice (which many of us have) that warns against spoiling your dinner with delicious snacks in the here and now. Goodman is the writer whose tribute to Mrs Elswood’s pickles for Waitrose Magazine perfectly augured this, her second book, and one I looked forward to more than any other book of its kind (souped-up narrative food non-fiction with recipes). Nobody else writes like her.

You’ll find all kinds of edible suggestions here. Some are for what you might call a meal (honey-nut baked feta with crackers, crab nachos, ‘nduja, mascarpone and honey toast) eaten in the spirit of snacking. Nachos are a case in point: they “represent adaptability, flexibility, change, possibility and fun, so they show up in places designed for fun which is maybe why we love them even when they’re bad,” she writes. I adore Godman’s listicles: Life Snacks II (Europe) includes a metre of chocolate brioche eaten under an umbrella in Paris and a prune pound cake slice from a French motorway service station. There are suggestions for ‘Snackettes, Quick Toast Edition’ ( Ricotta and Cherry Jam; Tahini, Honey and Flaky Salt); a proper pie section redolent with smarts, nostalgia and Americana (read ‘Five Pies of LA’), and a recipe for Cherry and Marzipan Hand Pies; ‘Small Things That Balance On Saucers’ (Chocolate-Orange Biscotti, Crumbly Little Biscuits); thoughts on crumpets (Apricot Jam and Goats Cheese), latkes, snackwitches (including the king, a classic Tuna Melt), dips, popcorn, schmears for bagels, lists of oddly-named crisps, ‘Cheese Trio’ suggestions (featuring a Honey, Mustard and Onion Cheeseball) and how to hold a Sardine Party.

Tava: Eastern European Baking and Desserts from Romania and Beyond by Irina Georgescu (Hardie Grant)

“When you buy Tava, you buy more than a baking book. You will connect with Romanian culture, with our history and traditions and read about different social classes and ethnic groups at different times over the centuries,” tweeted Irina Georgescu, the week before Tava, her second book, was published. Describing Romania as a “constellation of cultures- a ‘little Europe’ where the Middle East meets Austrian and German influences layered on top of the inheritance left by the Romans and Greeks,” this book tells the story of modern Romania too, a country where many other communities (Armenian, Jewish, Serbian, French and Italian among them) live, cook and add their own flavour. Georgescu tells of the influence of communism, the old Romanian monarchy, local government figures such as Baron Von Brukenthal, the effects of agrarian policies on ecological diversity and how modern Romanian producers and bakers are working to mitigate the latter by taking traditional regional ingredients and methods and using them in new and exciting ways.

Georgescu's research is conscientious and compassionate, focusing on six of the main cultural communities in Romania and organised into chapters covering different kinds of baking. She offers an alternative to some ingredients, detailing the qualities required to best approximate taste and texture, which I found useful. Her words soar over her motherland before swooping in for a more intimate look at particular aspects of Romanian culture through the lens of some of the world's most delectable — and relatively unfamiliar— baking traditions. We learn about the recipes common to tables across Romania (Curd Cheese and Golden Raisin Pie, Vanilla Mocha Cake with Bitter Walnuts made for birthdays, Doughnuts by different names, Mini Savarins, Apple and Caraway Loaf Cake, Lemon Cake) and those that are deeply regional or popular among a particular ethnic group (Armenian Pakhlava, Moldovian Saffron Buns, Apricot Rice Pudding with Wine Sauce from the Banat region where rice is a crop, Chestnut Cream from Transylvania, Sweet Cornmeal Cakes from dairy-rich Bocovina in Moldovia, Hungarian Fried Breads, and Lemon Verbena Cataif with Honey Cream whose roots date back to Ottoman rule).

The reader becomes a fellow traveller across time and borders in the company of Georgescu. This is an epic and riveting journey but a homely one too. Tava is not a lofty book, rather it is a book for home bakers, grounded in Romanian kitchens (both the humble and the not-so) and filled with incredibly tempting, doable recipes.

Africana: Treasured recipes and stories from across the continent by Lerato Umah-Shaylor (Harper Collins)

“The recipes in this book represent this journey of ‘going back to move forward…African recipes have remained secret whispers, passed from generation to generation, adapting with migration, technology and socio-economics, while continuously looking back, never to forget ancestors and their stories,” writes Lerato Umah-Shaylor in her introduction to Africana, her first book.

I love the modernity of Africana and the way it subverts the ‘Africa as monolith’ narrative by highlighting the continent’s commonalities and divergence and the close links between Africa and the rest of the world. That the book’s author is from Nigeria yet has a Bantu first name courtesy of her mother who, in doing this, Umah-Shaylor says, knowingly or unknowingly prepared her for “the Pan-African life that I fully embrace”, studied and lives in the UK, runs cookery classes celebrating food from all over Africa, and has written for publications and hosted cookery shows in Nigeria, imbues Africana with gravitas. It is a story of a life lived through food that marries oral, written and recorded narratives to create a cookery book that reflects African dynamism and progressiveness.

In her classes, Umah-Shaylor demonstrates to her students how easily adaptable her recipes are, although many ingredients of African origin or provenance are familiar — and available — to cooks around the world: squash, coffee, sesame, tea, grains such as rice, fonio and attiéké made from cassava, spices like ginger and calabash nutmeg, red palm, olive and argan oils, and cola from kola nuts all feature. And ingredients like cocoa, peanuts, vanilla and chillies made their way back from the Americas to Africa due to the slave trade. She tells us that Madagascar and neighbouring Comoros now produce some of the best vanilla in the world. Her culinary techniques are familiar too: cooking in leaves, using seeds to produce pastes, mashing and pounding, cooking over the fire, smoking, salting and drying, swift frying, and long and slow simmering; it is uniting.

A recipe for Mango and Carrot Slaw flavoured with hibiscus is, she tells us, a relatively recent departure from the habit some African cultures have of eating their fruits as they come and not mixing them into salads. Her recipe reflects her noticing a change in these customs. There’s an amazing Serengeti Salad, which also uses hibiscus and citrus, pomegranate seeds and Baobob powder from the long-lived trees she found ‘jaw-dropping’ whilst on safari there. It is a salad that celebrates African flora and fauna and one, she writes, “ can enjoy from anywhere in the world.”

I found evocative, her description of Medina Bread made with a mixture of white barley flour and a ‘nutty-tasting’ malted grain flour whose aroma transports her back to the Red City. A plate of lamb cutlets is flavoured with Senegalese Yassa with its base of citrus, Dijon mustard and caramelised onion. There’s a lovely Poulet Yassa and a Zanzibar-inflected Spice-Island Coconut Fish Curry. In her notes on Jollof, she reminds us that “there are some dishes that must come with bells and whistles, marching bands and circus troupes with a reverence that cuts across borders and ethnicities. Jollof is one of them.” What follows is a clearly-delineated recipe for a Smoky Jollof that uses smoked paprika cooked into oil as a ‘cheat’ if you cannot cook over fire and also serves as another ‘cheat’ if you cannot find African-produced red palm oil locally. A Candied Peanut Butter Cake is enriched with dates, and peanuts are also deployed in a celebratory recipe for Smashed Plantains and Peanuts, which also uses her smoked paprika and oil trick and is a dish whose roots lie in the Akan and Ga people of Ghana and the Ivory Coast. ‘My Golden Ugandan Rolex’ has a name that is a malapropism of rolled eggs, she writes, describing a meal where smoky tomato and date jam, bacon, and fried greens garnish a rolled egg omelette with a fried chapatti topper, traditionally sold tightly wrapped in newspaper. Just brilliant.

(A useful read on African red palm oil.)