It feels trite to be musing on the niche or whimsical end of ones interests in cooking when a deranged despot is busy wreaking devastation and ruining people’s lives in Ukraine. I have never visited Ukraine, nor Russia for that matter, but have been shown the beauty and bounty of its country and its people by Olia Hercules, a London based food writer, via her cookbooks and social media. I feel a sense of horror and deep sadness, as do we all, for what is happening right now, as I type. Olia’s Instagram highlights the initiatives she is supporting and putting in place, and many more like Olia are doing the same.
At times of heightened emotion, either personal or communal, it seems, as humans, we are hardwired to lean towards food and cooking as a way to raise awareness, raise funds, support and restore. Initiatives, cookbooks, pop-ups; Syria, Afghanistan, Ukraine, the pandemic response; food, supplies, cooking, feeding.
Running a social enterprise for a homelessness charity at the start of the pandemic, I ended up being seconded to a team running the pandemic response across Westminster. We established a central kitchen to produce and distribute thousands of meals a day to the make-shift hotels and shelters across London. During this effort, the volunteers, donations, logistical support and sheer volume of hours that were offered to us was staggering. Individuals and businesses who were being hit personally still stepped up and offered their support in any way they could. I guess for many, it felt like the most vital and immediate support one could offer. Of course, a staggering humanitarian effort is underway in Ukraine as we speak, again Olia has shared many of these resources here.
I was recently alerted to the work of Giles Duley, a photographer, humanitarian and chef. Through his work documenting war zones, he has visited Ukraine consistently. A recent documentary available here is illuminating in terms of Ukraine's history, its almost constant conflict on its eastern border, but also, (with war between Russia and Ukraine imminent rather than fully-fledged when the documentary was made,) how Ukrainian citizens across the nation use food for comfort, joy, and even hope.
These past few days, I find myself, during quieter moments, drifting towards my bookshelves and pulling down cookbooks that contain passageways to happier times. It is a purely selfish pursuit, but one that calms. The dishes within that offer the most hope are always those that suggest gathering, cooking and eating as a group; food as a celebration to be shared, enjoyed in the company of others, be they near and dear, or unknown and in need.
I thought I would share the books I have been drawn to below. I know it doesn't help in any way - for that, one must engage with and donate to the efforts highlighted by Olia and others like her - but at a time when it is easy to get despairingly lost in the rolling news coming at us from our myriad screens, it might enable you to stop for a while; consider how fortunate we are really, here in the UK; contemplate the importance of open dialogue and sharing, an act promoted best over a table with offerings of love masked as sustenance.
Why not cook something, if the feeling takes you, and if you do, perhaps reach out to someone you don’t know that well, or haven’t seen in a while, and share it with them, or give it away to someone who might appreciate it as much as you do. Or, eat it and take restorative joy in the act of the cooking and the eating.
You’ll return to the worried doom scrolling, we all do, but you might have a new perspective, or a renewed sense of vigour to go do something about it. There is little downside to restorative cooking and eating, and you never know what good it might do you, or others around you.
The Cookbooks:
Be it his children's stories, short stories or this book that he and his wife created to record their thoughts on food and cooking (normally for groups of family and friends,) Roald Dahl has always been my go-to for comfort, but also for the livening spirit that can turn a mood or bolster a resolve. This book goes up and down the register, from high style to base pleasure, and there is plenty to recommend.
Written by American gourmand and food writer, Richard Olney, this book documents the kitchen, and its formidable owner, at Domaine Tempier, a notable vineyard in Provence. There are few better books for whisking you away from whatever stupor you’re in and depositing you at a table, miles away, a warm breeze playing about your ears, a lunch of simple pleasures laid out to share. I was introduced to this book via its swiss chard gratin, a dish of quite some renown, but once inside I am stopped every few pages by something else I want to cook for someone in particular. It is all in here, brandade, pissaladiere, bagna cauda, and plenty more too. Lulu’s ways with fish and meat are all wonderful, but it is often her preparations of vegetables that I am most drawn towards. High with garlic and liberal with good oil or butter, you know they will sate and restore.
Sometimes a book imbues a spirit, and this one is slightly punk rock and anarchic, and as such, it is something I reach for when I am feeling a little bit ‘fuck-it’. No longer there, Railroad was a small cafe on the corner of Morning Lane in Hackney that was run by Lizzie Parle and Matt Doran, and it was simply wonderful. Their book captures everything that made the cafe such a vital place, enabling you to recreate at least some of that joy at home. The food takes in Europe, Sri Lanka, India, Mexico and more, the spirit of each dish being that it feels as if it was made by your grandma if she happened to be an incredible cook and from the country of the dishes origin.
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