"A lot is said about simplicity in modern, Fench-influenced cookery. I find it very difficult to find a suitable definition of a simple dish." Stephanie Alexander
I confess I'm not really a Stephanie Alexander fan but nevertheless I have several of her books, one of them signed by the lady herself, and of course I have The Cook's Companion. And I still use her pesto and tzatziki recipes regularly. But I can't say I have actually made many things from her books, and I also can't say that she's one of those reliably never fail people. Not like Delia or Robert Carrier or Ottolenghi.
Why am I not a fan even though I remember her first restaurant as being an absolute pleasure? I never dined at her fine dining establishment in Hawthorn although I think David did once. I think it's partly her personality which is somewhat forbidding - at least for me, and also rather snobby.
I have just been reading some of her words in the book above - my next First Recipe book, which may well end up in the street library at the end of this post. In this particular book anyway, she has something of the superior schoolmarmy tone of Elizabeth David, but not quite her skill with words. Here are a couple of examples from the Preface to the book and the introduction to this first menu:
"at the end of it all, when I sit down and eat my favourite dishes, I do see again and again the evidence of a personal style. There is clarity and strength, the broths sparkle and the taste is deep, satisfying and real. The joy in home and hearth is never far way - many of the dishes have been enjoyed for a long time - so tradition, family, love, comfort and warmth all seem to be part of my personal style."
The sentiments might be right, but there's a huge element - to me anyway - of self satisfaction - in a bad way.
"To take short cuts that compromise quality or to misunderstand basic technique or the spirit of a dish are not acceptable reasons for producing sloppily executed, so-called 'simple' dishes."
"To produce a successful simple dish is perhaps the height of artistry, but 'successful' usually means that a great deal of thought, technique and care have been lavished on the dish without being apparent."
Of course that was then, when she was young and still cooking for and running a fine dining establishment. Today the image, and possibly the personality are completely different. For after retirement she, like Jamie Oliver in a way, dedicated herself to getting kids interested in growing and cooking food with her Kitchen Garden Foundation which has done wonderful work in schools all around Australia. Hence 'simple' these days, does indeed mean what we all understand as simple and the fact that Coles - a supermarket catering to all and sundry, the vast majority of whom are what can only be described as 'ordinary people' - is a benefactor and features occasional recipes in their magazine epitomises this.
Time changes us all.
So let's return to her long ago (1991) thoughts on simplicity and that first recipe - well menu.
"Simplicity will succeed because of quality. A soft-boiled egg in a perfect tarragon-infused jelly is a simple dish. If the egg has been boiled one minute too long so that the yolk does not spill when the fork touches it, then the dish is unsucessful. If the jelly is imperfectly clarified, it is unsuccessful. If there are specks of fat left on the surface of the jelly, it is unsuccessful. If the jelly is without sufficient flavour, it is unsuccessful."
For a start the dish being described here is not a simple dish. When was tarragon infused jelly ever simple - or everyday. I assume it was a jelly made from a stock infused with tarragon. I think she is talking about this sort of thing - she does say 'in jelly'. How on earth can you describe this as 'simple'? It's extremely fancy and complicated and the kind of dish you only find in very fancy restaurants. I mena how do you get the egg in the jelly and would you like a cold soft-boiled egg? I'm not sure I would.
So let's move on to that first recipe - Steamed oysters with sea-lettuce. Now I am also not an oyster fan - in fact I just can't come at oysters - the thought of eating something alive is repulsive to me not that these are presented alive - they are steamed after all. I did once, unknowingly, eat a smoked oyster and even before I knew what it was I thought it was repulsive. So obviously I am biased.
However, many people love oysters and it is the first recipe. There is no photo - there are very few photos in the book - in fact many of her books have very few photos. This one here is a dish of steamed oysters with pickled sea lettuce however, so, close.
She begins her piece on the dish by pointing out the stupidity of Australians in holding to the only eat oysters in months with an R in the name rule, because in summer (no letter Rs in the Northern Hemisphere) the oysters are "in their reproductive season ... and the flesh becomes milky and soft." But Australian seasons are in reverse and the R rule does not apply. Our summer months have Rs.
Then she goes on:
"One must go to considerable trouble to obtain oysters still swimming in their liquor. You must either gather your own or buy them not only unopened but, as they say in the trade, 'unrumbled'."
Then follows a distressing (to me anyway) description of the harvesting and processing and keeping alive the oysters, before we get on to the sea lettuce:
"The next ingredient you must locate is sea-lettuce. ... It is found in clean water by divers who collect sea-urchin, periwinkles and other shellfish. You can sometimes collect it yourself from rock pools"
Admittedly she does give substitutes here but still you get the impression that this is a bit of a cop out. But on it goes through the rest of the menu.
At the end of the actual recipe we have:
"Each guest now tucks in, ladling a little butter onto each oyster, slipping it down, drinking the juice and nibbling at the greenery. Absolutely delicious - the essence of oyster."
Urgh say I, but then as I said, I'm biased and I really can't even think about eating oysters. And yet I've eaten snails and enjoyed them. Apparently:
"This entrée was once described by an ecstatic customer as being like eating oysters at the bottom of the sea."
Which I find somewhat self-congratulatory.
So no this book is not for me and it doesn't endear me to Stephanie Alexander more than I felt before. In person at that book signing restaurant meal she was not endearing either. Nevertheless I will acknowledge the magnificent work of the Kitchen Garden Foundation that she started in Collingwood in a school at the base of Housing Commission tower blocks, and indeed I have occasionally wondered at buying her last book Home.
I will also reproduce here a quote from John Ruskin, who looks a bit like Abraham Lincoln, that begins the book:
"What does cooking mean?
It means the knowledge of Medea, and of Circe, and of Calypso, and of Helen, and of Rebekah, and the Queen of Sheba. It means the knowledge of all herbs and fruits, and balms, and spices; and all that is healing and sweet in fields and groves, and savoury in meats; it means carefulness, and inventiveness, and watchfulness, and willingness and readiness of appliance; it means the economy of your great-grandmothers, and the science of modern chemists; it means much tasting, and no wasting; it means English thoroughness, and French art, and Arabic hospitality."
Which is all of a piece with Stephanie;s writing really. Sort of old-fashioned and high-minded, yet with (and I say this somewhat grudgingly with reference to Stephanie) something deeply true at its core. I'll add it to my Quotes page.
POSTSCRIPT
Yesterday we had another of those fridge raid dishes which was absolutely delicious, but which Is basically unrepeatable and therefore not written down. Also unphotographed. In summary I was using up the last of the grated tomatoes from Ottolenghi's tomato toasts. To this I added some tomato purée and oil, something that I think was chermoula lurking in the back of the fridge, some kashmiri chilli and some, coriander stalks, cumin spice mix and yoghurt. This was a marinade for a cut up chicken breast, which was then cooked like a curry - a quick fry of onion, garlic, ginger, add the semi-drained chicken and fry, add the rest of the marinade. Cook until done and top with some crispy onion slices that I tossed in flour and fried until crisp. Serve with rice and pickled onion salad.
Unrepeatable because I'm really not sure whether the chermoula was chermoula. I could get close though. The crispy onions on the top were a brainwave.
Tonight it's leftovers of leftovers - Shepherd's pie reheated. Simple.
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