Summer of the celebrity chef
Spring has set in and the warmer weather (torrential rain and the occasional storm notwithstanding) calls to mind leisurely outdoor dinners on long, light nights.
If you need inspiration for imminent barbecues, Yotam Ottolenghi is your man. The Israeli chef and father of two, known for his way with vegetables, has recently released a luscious-looking cookbook, Simple, with cooking for crowds in mind. The book, his seventh, alleviates oft-expressed frustrations from fans and detractors alike, who have long bemoaned Ottolenghi’s penchant for lengthy, exotic ingredients lists.
Emblazoned with a sunshineyellow lemon, Simple’s recipes are coded according to whether you are short on time, feeling lazy, have fewer than 10 ingredients, or can make it in advance.
The hallmarks of Ottolenghi cuisine remain: international ingredients, particularly from the Middle East, married in ways that defy genre or trend; an aesthetic of generosity – bright, colourful dishes, piled on platters; a light-handed approach to cooking, favouring grilling and shallow-frying over slower methods, and surprising flavour combinations.
But in Simple, ingredients are less obscure, and recipes require fewer of them, with little to no prep. Dishes work in concert or alone. An impromptu weeknight dinner party is even easier to throw together with Ottolenghi’s meal and feast suggestions at the back of the book.
Rachel Khoo’s Little Swedish Kitchen claims to ‘‘celebrate every season’’ and in it you’ll find a fresh take on ingredients, and probably be introduced to some you’ve never used before.
London-born Khoo, formerly resident in Paris, now lives in Sweden, where they’re less likely to throw another shrimp on the barbie than they are to crack open a jar of pickled fish. Don’t panic, however: Le Cordon Bleutrained Khoo is firm that the book reflects her own spin on Swedish cuisine. Who knows? Perhaps chilled soups and Vasterbotten pie will become staples in your household. Tina Makeriti poses some enormous questions. What do we mean by ‘‘civilisation’’? What is the difference between ‘‘civilised’’ and ‘‘savage’’? What is ‘‘normal’’? ‘‘Subnormal?’’ She sets herself some bold goals.
Her tale, though fiction, is drawn from history. A young Ma¯ori boy is orphaned in tribal warfare and is adopted by a Pa¯keha¯ family. He is drawn to a visiting British artist and accompanies him back to Britain, where he is exhibited in a ‘‘show’’ of freaks.
The James Po¯neke of Makeriti’s tale is modelled on Hemi Pomare, who travelled to England in 1846. Beyond those bald facts, Makeriti extrapolates further.
Po¯neke discovers the nefarious underworld of early Victorian London. He is led astray by Billy Neptune and his companion, Henry
Nominative determinism suggests it was only a matter of time before Reese Witherspoon put out a cookbook.
In Whiskey In A Teacup, her comprehensive homage to Southern living, the woman who brought us Legally Blonde returns to oppressively pink outfits. But hear me out. Lock. Henry, in reality, is Henrietta, masquerading as a man.
When Po¯neke is put on display with a family of dwarves, some of the ticket-buying public are amazed he is not ‘‘savage, no halfbeast’’. Po¯neke grows tired of being a ‘‘professional spectacle’’, a ‘‘specimen’’ of the ‘‘hierarchies of men’’. He becomes aware of the ‘‘layers of men’’ into which he has been categorised. The viewed becomes the viewer.
Makeriti’s big questions, however, might be too challenging and she is not able to offer much more than that we are all the same, despite our superficial differences.
Like her previous Where the Rekohu Bone Sings, this novel relies on scrupulous research.
It, too, revives the dry bones of history and turns it into a living and fascinating story.
Sure, there’s a whole chapter devoted to Dolly Parton, but the the actor, producer and Time’s Up crusader has plenty of practical tips for making the most of warmer climes that Kiwis would do well to appropriate. Recipes for sweet tea, lemonade, mint juleps, and canapes – yes please!