Cook, Eat, Repeat

1. Cooking is a Continuous, Life-Giving Practice

Cooking is not something you do, and then it’s finished with.

A woven thread. Cooking is presented not as a chore with a finite end, but as an ongoing, essential thread woven through the fabric of our lives. It encompasses memory, desire, and provides both physical and emotional sustenance. The repetition inherent in cooking, from chopping to stirring, builds ease and instinct, acting as a balm for a busy mind.

Meditative repetition. The seemingly mundane, repeated actions in the kitchen can be deeply soothing and meditative. Peeling potatoes or stirring a pot requires just enough focus to quiet the "chattering monkey-mind," allowing senses like touch, smell, sight, and sound to take over from intellect. This practice builds intuition, teaching us to trust our senses in the kitchen.

Not a performance. Home cooking is a practice, not a performance, freeing us from the professional need for absolute consistency. Ingredients vary, moods change, and each time a dish is made, it's a unique iteration. This dynamic relationship between familiar repetition and spontaneous variation is at the heart of home cooking.

2. Recipes Serve as Guides, Not Rigid Rules

And so I gently remind myself, and you, that the recipe-writer’s role is to be a guide in the kitchen, not its ruling monarch.

Language and precision. Recipes must convey information clearly, but precision can be misleading. Stipulating exact weights for ingredients like onions or carrots is often based on happenstance rather than critical necessity. The writer's role is to guide, acknowledging that variables like pan size, stove type, and even mood affect the outcome.

Evolving documents. A recipe is not a static, sacred text but a living, evolving entity. It starts as an account of how something was cooked once, but through testing and repetition, it's refined and improved. The best recipes demand their way into a cook's repertoire, becoming dishes returned to again and again.

Open to interpretation. While initial attempts might benefit from adherence, recipes are open to interpretation and adjustment to suit individual tastes or circumstances. The author encourages readers to play with recipes, seeing it as a rewarding conversation between writer and cook. Necessity, like restricted shopping during lockdown, forces this flexibility, prompting cooks to think about what an ingredient offers (sourness, fat, crunch) rather than just its name.

3. Embrace Food Pleasure Without Guilt

no one should feel guilty about what they eat, or the pleasure they get from eating; the only thing to feel guilty about (and even then I don’t recommend it) is the failure to be grateful for that pleasure.

Death to guilt. The phrase "guilty pleasure" is rejected as irritating and harmful. Feeling guilty about enjoying food diminishes the pleasure itself. Taking pleasure in food is framed as an act of gratitude, a celebration of life, especially in a world not always rich in joy.

Pure enjoyment. The goal is to maximize enjoyment, not just eat mindlessly. This involves savoring each mouthful, being intensely aware of the pleasure it brings, and stopping when the rapture recedes. This is distinct from "comfort eating," which is seen as a search for mind-numbing obliteration, food as a narcotic rather than a celebration.

Beyond good and bad. The Manichaean view of food as strictly "good" or "bad" is challenged. This binary leads to self-denial and shame. True pleasure can be found in a wide range of foods, from chocolate to garlicky spinach or a lemony salad. Snobbery and judgment, whether purist or inverted, are seen as puny acts that police the fundamental pleasure of eating.

4. Brown Food Offers Deep, Unsung Comfort

COLOUR FADES AS FLAVOUR DEEPENS; a metaphor for much of life, I suggest.

Beyond aesthetics. While vibrant colors in food are appealing and can lift spirits, brown food, like stews, often faces unfair aesthetic judgment, particularly on visual platforms like Instagram. However, brown food possesses its own beauty: richness, warmth, and subtle variegation, which are often lost in photographs.

Texture and depth. The discomfort some feel with brown food may stem from challenging textures or negative childhood associations with poorly cooked dishes. But a well-made brown dish, like a wine-dark stew, offers deep flavor and comfort derived from long, slow cooking. It doesn't demand attention but gently beckons with a whisper.

Quiet pleasures. Brown food provides a sense of calm and cosiness, a necessary counterpoint to the demand for everything to be a "showstopper." Many favorite foods, like black pudding, chopped liver, or slow-cooked greens, are not conventionally pretty but are beautiful in their brownness, offering quiet, profound pleasures that nourish the soul.

5. Anchovies: A Small Ingredient, Big Impact

Few other ingredients arrive in the kitchen with such confrontational pungency, and yet manage to imbue so many dishes with transformational subtlety.

Bacon of the sea. Anchovies, particularly the salted or cured variety, are celebrated as an essential ingredient. Despite their initial saltiness and pungency, they dissolve into dishes, providing richness, depth, and umami without tasting overtly fishy. They are the "bacon of the sea," adding a resonant savouriness.

Versatile enhancer. Anchovies can transform a wide array of dishes, from simple bread and butter to complex stews and sauces. Melting them in oil or butter at the start of cooking adds a rounded, almost oaky saltiness that enhances other flavors. They pair wonderfully with:

• Bread and butter/toast
• Roasted peppers
• Cream sauces (for steak, vegetables)
• Lamb
• Plain cooked meat or fish
• Steamed vegetables (potatoes, kale, broccoli, spinach)
• Eggs
• Gravy

Beyond the fillet. The Anchovy Elixir, made with salt-packed anchovies, garlic, lemon, oil, and water, is presented as the "apogee of anchovydom," a pure celebration of their qualities. This grey sauce, while not beautiful, is intensely flavorful and versatile, perfect as a dip or sauce for meat and vegetables.

6. Rhubarb: A Bright, Tart Seasonal Joy

Yorkshire forced rhubarb, which is started off outside, but then transplanted inside, cultivated in the dark and harvested by candlelight, is one of our greatest culinary treasures.

A sign of hope. The arrival of pink forced rhubarb in bleak midwinter is a moment of uplift and hope. Its vibrant color, tender texture, and pure, vibrant tartness make it a culinary treasure, distinct from the later, greener summer rhubarb. The author's obsession has led to numerous recipes over the years.

Showcasing tartness. Roasting rhubarb simply with sugar is the best way to preserve its shape, color, and intense tang. The sugar doesn't overwhelm the sharpness but highlights its fragrant sherbettiness. This compote is versatile, pairing well with:

• Custard
• Marzipan Loaf Cake
• Yogurt
• Crêpes
• Pavlovas
• Cheesecake
• Ice cream

Beyond sweet. While often used in sweet dishes, rhubarb also shines in savory contexts. A simple rhubarb sauce is excellent with oily fish or fatty meats like pork or duck, offering a tangy counterpoint. It can also be incorporated into tarts, crumbles, puddings, salsas, and even stews, demonstrating its broad culinary appeal.

7. Dinner is a Daily Ritual of Decompression

I fervently believe that the evening meal has the power to do this, too.

Blunting the day. The evening meal, like a martini, has the power to "blunt the day and polish the night." It's a vital decompression chamber, offering immersion and escape from external pressures. Cooking provides structure and pleasure, turning feeding into a civilized ritual.

More than just food. While delicious food is important, the mark of a good evening, especially when entertaining, is the warmth of friendship, lively conversation, and shared laughter. The food facilitates this connection but is not the sole measure of success. The focus shifts from performance to companionship.

Manageable and enjoyable. The recipes presented are designed to be manageable and enjoyable to cook, whether for oneself or others. They aim to usher in a sense of animated serenity, providing cheer, comfort, and contentment through delicious deeds in a sometimes dark world. The daily question "Shall I roast a chicken?" holds the same comforting resonance as "How about a nice cup of tea?"

8. Leftovers Offer Joy and Resourcefulness

Nothing makes me feel happier in cooking than making a meal out of repurposed scraps.

A source of happiness. Making a meal out of repurposed scraps is a source of genuine happiness and satisfaction. This thriftiness, perhaps inherited from a generation that experienced rationing, is a habit of cooks, regardless of extravagance. It feels wrong to waste food.

Creative repurposing. Leftovers aren't just about avoiding waste; they offer opportunities for creativity and new dishes. Ingredients are repeated and reworked to make something new and different. Examples include:

• Banana skins used in a curry
• Potato/pasta water used for bread or soup
• Bacon fat, beef dripping, schmaltz saved for cooking
• Stale bread turned into breadcrumbs or used in soup/pudding
• Leftover stew meat shredded for pasta sauce
• Cooked vegetables repurposed in salads or soups

Daily pleasure. Leftovers provide near-instant, enduringly blissful solo suppers or quick meals. A festive fridge forage, unwrapping crunkled foil packages and decanting food into smaller tubs, is a particular seasonal joy, measuring out the days by the diminishing supply of holiday food.

9. Cooking for Yourself is Liberating

When you cook for yourself, the burden of feeling you have to perform or impress is taken away, and you can, in your own time, find a way of being in the kitchen that makes sense to you.

Freedom from judgment. Cooking for oneself removes the pressure to perform or impress others. It allows the cook to find their own rhythm and way of being in the kitchen, focusing solely on pleasing themselves. This absence of external judgment is enormously liberating.

Developing intuition. Cooking solo is an excellent way to build confidence and develop intuition. It allows for experimentation and the freedom to make mistakes without fear of criticism. The focus shifts entirely to the food itself, rather than its reception.

New discoveries. Cooking for oneself can lead to new combinations and reawaken old enthusiasms, which in turn reanimate cooking for others. While the author often doesn't follow strict recipes when cooking solo, it's a space for feeling one's way and following one's bliss, leading to discoveries that enrich the wider repertoire.

10. Food and Recipes Tell Our Stories

I sometimes think that the appetite for recipes, for reading and writing about food and how we cook it, says just as much about our hunger for stories – these little condensed chronicles that say so much – as about our hunger for pleasure and sustenance.

Condensed chronicles. Recipes are more than just instructions; they are condensed chronicles that tell stories. They can be practical documents, social history, anthropological records, family legacies, autobiographical statements, or even literary exercises, fusing our hunger for stories with our hunger for pleasure and sustenance.

Living testimony. Recipes connect us to the past and to those who cooked before us. The poignant example of recipes shared by women in the Terezín concentration camp highlights how food and recipes can embody identity, memory, and hope, serving as a living testimony even in the face of extinction.

Shared enthusiasm. A successful recipe that takes root in many kitchens is seen as a magical undertaking and a hopeful act of communality. Despite different tastes, cultures, and prejudices, a shared recipe allows for a collective experience anchored in practicality and entered into with abandon.

11. Specific Dishes Embody Comfort and Connection

The recipes in this chapter – and indeed, throughout the book – are to help usher in that sense of animated serenity, whether you have guests around the table or not.

Culinary anchors. Certain dishes become anchors in our culinary lives, repeated for their comfort, joy, and ability to connect us to others. These aren't necessarily elaborate but are deeply satisfying and often linked to specific memories or people. Examples highlighted include:

• Spaghetti with Chard, Chilli and Anchovies
• Celeriac and Anchovy Gratin
• Crab Mac 'n' Cheese
• Wide Noodles with Lamb Shank in Aromatic Broth
• Fish Finger Bhorta
• Smoky Squid and Beans
• Fried Chicken Sandwich
• Marzipan Loaf Cake
• Lemon and Elderflower Drizzle Cake
• Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake
• Rice Pudding Cake
• Basque Burnt Cheesecake

More than ingredients. These recipes are presented not just as lists of ingredients and instructions, but as dishes that embody the author's philosophy of cooking and eating. They illustrate how simple ingredients, thoughtful preparation, and a focus on pleasure can create food that nourishes both body and soul, whether shared or eaten alone.

Building repertoire. The dishes included are those that have demanded their way into the author's repertoire, proving their worth through repeated making and eating. They are offered as potential additions to the reader's own list of comforting, reliable dishes, contributing to the ongoing practice of cook, eat, repeat.

12. Christmas is a Time for Culinary Ritual

We human beings need ritual; for me, at Christmas that need is met in cooking and at the table.

Tradition and repetition. Christmas is a time when the need for ritual is particularly pronounced, met through cooking and sharing meals. Family traditions, from specific menus to shared jokes and films, provide structure and comfort, linking generations. The repetition, often seen as drudgery, becomes a source of solace and overexcitement.

New memories. While tradition is important, Christmas also provides opportunities to create new memories and rituals. Introducing new dishes or adapting old ones keeps the season vibrant. The focus shifts slightly in challenging times, emphasizing the privilege of cooking for others and the importance of companionship over elaborate perfection.

The joy of leftovers. A key element of the Christmas culinary ritual is the abundance of leftovers. The festive fridge forage, measuring days by diminishing tubs of food, is a particular joy. Leftovers are not just about thrift but provide opportunities for creative repurposing and cherished, near-instant meals, especially sandwiches, extending the festive pleasure.

Last updated: May 21, 2025