When Jeremy Lee received the very first copy of his new cookbook from his publishers, he immediately threw it in a drawer, then cycled from his home in east London to get on with his day at Soho’s Quo Vadis, where he is chef-patron. The book, Cooking: Simply And Well, For One or Many, was the result of many years of work, on and off, and he wasn’t quite ready to face its reality.

Arriving at Bibendum, years later, I was overjoyed to discover that Simon Hopkinson had an ace almond tart as a permanent fixture on the menu. At Alastair Little it was an exemplary prune and almond tart, the prunes steeped in Armagnac for days (they were equally excellent in ice cream, which was often how they were served up too). I think it’s worth noting that it is a long time since I bought almonds already ground, preferring by far the resulting coarse crumb from grinding whole almonds myself. I favour the whole blanched Marcona almonds from Spain, where the almond is almost a religion. If the almonds are unpeeled it is not such a chore to steep them in boiling water to loosen the skins to facilitate peeling. The difference is remarkable. But almonds are not only for confectionery and puddings, creams and ices; they are also good company in compounds redolent of a pesto – leaves and nuts and cheese ground with olive oil. I wanted the book to have that arbitrary touch that Jane Grigson’s Good Things is so notable for. That and Julia Child’s The Way to Cook were very much in my mind. I really like the freeform of Grigson’s recipes and notes and Child’s forthrightness. Trim the beetroots, retaining any leaves still fresh enough for the salad. Place the beetroots in a steamer, or simmer in a pan of water until tender. It also came very naturally because somehow I was so fortunate to dodge the ferocious bullet of working in restaurants where you were constantly pummelled. I somehow always worked in kitchens where we were encouraged to read cookbooks and we read them like thrillers. So much of that lodged in my subconscious like that. I want to be somehow charmed by a recipe. Your book is a love song to simple dishes crafted with the finest ingredients – where does this approach to food come from?A few rules, well, musings really, on the business of choosing, preparing and cooking beetroot. There are so many varieties of beetroot in gorgeous pinks, purples and a gold, a particular variety I love called Flaming Badger. The cook can indulge in all manner of variations with different varieties and colours. I like the small new season’s tender beetroots both steamed and baked in foil, or, if there is time to soak, in a diable. Steaming beetroot results in a delicately cooked vegetable, while roasting beetroot in foil or a diable results in a rich intensity. Ensuring the beetroots are of a similar size and shape and regardless of which method of cooking chosen, beetroots take roughly the same time to cook. Larger beetroots, later in the season, are best boiled until tender. This gluten-free meringue is spectacular and very easy – a pavlova flavoured with toasted hazelnuts and filled with cream rippled with raspberries. I got the idea from Jeremy Lee, the chef-proprietor of Quo Vadis restaurant, who makes a similar meringue but with almonds. The addition of the nuts makes it twice as nice, in my view, but obviously if you are serving the meal to anyone who can’t eat nuts, you can just leave them out and it’s still a thing of splendour. The meringue itself can be made ahead of time (even 1-2 days ahead), and then all you have to do is whip the cream and assemble it with the fruit.

Technically, the ratatouille I now make is not ratatouille at all. It is – as requested by my youngest son – based on the one eaten by the food critic Anton Ego in the Pixar movie Ratatouille. Properly, it should be called a tian, because unlike classic ratatouille, it is not stewed in a pan but constructed from very thinly sliced vegetables, baked in the oven. It looks much fancier this way but the flavours are the same: the gentle fragrance of sweet garlic mingling with oil and aubergine and tomato. You can get it ready ahead of time and reheat, if it helps. Lee made his bones under Simon Hopkinson and Alastair Little, among the architects of the renaissance in modern British cooking. Alongside contemporaries such as Fergus Henderson, of St John, Lee takes as much credit as anyone for the extraordinary flourishing in our national cuisine over the past few decades. A glimpse at Lee’s bookshelves provided within the book give as good as clue as any to the kind of chef he is and the type of cooking that inspires him. While a few modern books can be seen – Nigella Lawson’s How to Eat​, Nuno Mendes’ Lisboeta​, and St John’s Complete Nose to Tail​ to name but three – his shelves sag under the weight of far older, well-thumbed books from the likes of Julia Child, Jane Grigson, Elizabeth David and Madhur Jaffrey. As he describes the recipes in Cooking​ himself, this is home cooking rediscovered after a lifetime spent in professional kitchens.

Books

At the restaurant, we like to spread marmalade on a tart case, dot with frangipane, then strew with chocolate and bake. Served with cream, ice-cream and custard, this is very good in those last days of winter when a treat is often much needed. A thought for the cook is to prepare it the day before, as frangipane cooks best when refrigerated. Any leftover pastry can be sliced thinly, laid on a baking sheet and baked in a low oven until crisp and lightly coloured, making rather wonderful biscuits. Peel and core the apple, halve it, slice the halves thinly and toss in lemon juice. Lay these concentrically and fairly evenly over the pastry. Brush the apple with melted butter. Evenly sugar the apple slices. (These keep remarkably well in the fridge if necessary.) It seems that so many chefs are looking to invent new ways of doing things. Every recipe in this book feels like something we have been — or should have been — cooking all along. The recipes in Cooking are arranged by favorite ingredients and occasions and include an introduction emphasizing the importance of the quality and provenance of ingredients. From plum compote with ricotta and hazelnuts to perfect anchovy dressing, this stunning collection of recipes is a love song to simple dishes crafted with the finest ingredients.

Place the rolled salsify on a baking sheet. Bake for 6-7 minutes on one side, then flip and bake for a further 3-4 minutes, until golden brown and crisp. Remove from the oven, place on a board, cut in half, then put on a plate and strew with more grated Parmesan. While the pork chop is cooking, grind the garlic, lemon zest, thyme and rosemary with the fennel and celery seeds in a pestle and mortar and set aside. I can map the course of the year through the fruits that grace an almond tart, from the first forced pink rhubarb of January to the damsons, medlars, quinces and sloes of autumn – a succession of fruit advancing with the seasons. Peel and finely chop the shallots and garlic. Place in a pan with the anchovies and olive oil. Sit this upon the gentlest heat and warm until the shallots have softened and the anchovies have melted. Jeremy Lee joined us at Wilderness Festival 2022 to host one of the Long Table Banquets for a feast that went down in spectacular style. Here, we caught up with Jeremy to discuss his fabulous new book, his approach to cooking, and how to be a wonderful host: A conversation with Jeremy Lee and his new book, Cooking: Simply and Well, for One or ManyLightly oil and season the skin side of the sardines, then lay them in the onion pan, skin side down, and cook undisturbed for 3-4 minutes, until the flesh turns pale. Flip and cook for no more than 1 minute on the other side. I have often thought about a copper mould for making this lovely dish, as pleasing to look at as it is to eat. A wider, shallower cake shaped and cooked in a cast-iron skillet or frying pan is as delicious as those cooked in hatted moulds. It seems almost redundant to point it out, so obvious is it, but I’ll say it anyway: Cooking by Jeremy Lee is the cookbook of the year. If you know anyone at all who loves spending time in the kitchen, buy them this book. Ingredients are as key to recipes as the inspiration itself. Produce inspired by the seasons, from favourite suppliers, producers, growers, shops and markets, inspire just as much as the thought of sitting a great crowd of friends down around a big table, or sitting solo at home. Place the fillets of hake in a deep ovenproof dish, lightly season with salt and white pepper and lightly dress with a soup spoon of olive oil. Pour in enough cold water to cover the bottom of the dish.

It is as much indebted to Lee’s Dundee childhood as his years at the stove in smart Sassenach restaurants. And while many of the recipes in the book were developed in professional kitchens, it is home cooking, and the home cook, that his book is about, and for. He starts with the ingredients, always, and keeps things simple, also always. The book is as much a hymn to nature’s fecundity as it is to the pleasures of preparing food. It is arranged alphabetically, and Lee exults in seasonal vegetables from first, artichokes (“kitchen thistles”) to last, wild garlic (“a most exuberant not to mention abundant leaf”). Along the way he indulges in biscuits, blood oranges, chocolate, fish (“shiny darlings lifted from the deep”) offal, potatoes and soup, among other delights. SALSIFY APPEARS AS WINTER’S GRIP TIGHTENS. It’s a vegetable that has an elegant and delicate flavour at odds with its appearance – a dark, earthy root, long and slender, enclosed in a covering of bark echoing the barren, bleak silhouettes of trees in the thrall of winter. It looks as though it’d be more at home in an apothecary’s storeroom. But a scrape of the peeler reveals a surprising whiteness that will discolour swiftly after being pared. Plunge it into a bowl of water with a couple of slices of lemon to prevent that happening, but beware, too much lemon and the delicate, elusive flavour of salsify will disappear.Jeremy’s book is a joy and his lively writing style and infectious enthusiasm make COOKING my favourite food book of the year. This handsome volume is both instructive and enjoyable, a warm invitation to share Jeremy Lee’s cooking in your own kitchen.