Tender is actually a two-part publication, the first volume of which focuses on vegetables. In Volume II, which is due out next year, the emphasis will be on fruit. As fruit doesn’t interest me nearly as much as vegetables (I dislike it cooked, anyway), I’m thrilled that Nigel saw fit to start at the beginning.

And “at the beginning” is apt: in the vein of Jamie at Home and others like it, Tender is as much about growing vegetables as cooking them. The introduction speaks of Nigel’s love for growing food, and in particular for his west London garden, which was transformed over several years to provide him with a generous, if not entirely self-sustaining, amount of fresh produce with which to cook.

This introduction (all 12 pages of it) is strangely one of my favourite parts of the book. It’s not that I find the subject matter all that interesting, but the prose is a treat to take in. Nigel Slater is beloved by the British in part due to his wonderful writing, which is at once charming, self-deprecating, witty and honest. He even manages to make a section titled “Slugs, snails and other buggerances” sound amusing, which I imagine is quite a feat.

While all of Nigel’s books are wonderfully readable, Tender is probably one of the prettiest to date, at least in my opinion. Printed on beautiful matte paper, the pages are full of simple type, wonderful photography and enough clean white space to bring it all together. The photos especially, mainly of food but occasionally of Nigel’s garden or some raw ingredients, are considered and elegant without being styled to death. In short: this is my kind of book.

Broken into 30 chapters, each covering a different vegetable, the books is large but hardly an exhaustive vegetable lexicon. Of course, it wouldn’t be; Tender is all about eating locally and cooking seasonally, so it only covers those vegetables grown by Nigel here in Britain. This makes it especially useful for those of us who buy produce at farmers’ markets, or who grow our own food.

Each chapter follows the same basic formula: an introduction, some information about growing the vegetable in question, a “diary” following the planting, growing and harvesting in 2008, and some information on the different varieties available to gardeners. Following this is a bit about cooking with the vegetable (methods, classic flavour pairings, tips and things to try), and around 5-10 recipes using it. This may sound like rather a lot of “extra stuff” taking up room in a cookbook, but it’s far more interesting than it sounds. In fact, there are just as many ideas for dishes hidden in these sections of prose as there are recipes themselves.

Now, about those recipes. While I haven’t been cooking from Tender for all that long, I don’t need to cook everything here to know it will be delicious. Nigel’s recipes rarely disappoint me; in fact, I’d consider him one of my most trusted food writers, in terms of “doing what it says on the tin”. And he hasn’t strayed far from his trademark cooking style here, relying heavily on fresh ingredients, simple cooking methods, and the occasional indulgence. (Nigel seems to be a man who likes a good dose of cream or cheese now and then.) While the recipes aren’t strictly vegetarian, non-meat-eaters will find little to complain about, as it only makes a rare and subtle appearance here. Additionally, very few things read as “sides” to me, leaning instead toward being meals in their own right.

I first tackled A Rich Dish of Sprouts and Cheese for a Very Cold Night (pg. 126), which was so good that my boyfriend went back for thirds (quite something, considering that he’d previously claimed to dislike Brussels sprouts). Pasta with Sprouting and Cream (pg. 114) was also a success, as was Kale with Golden Raisins and Onions (pg. 321). I hope to try the Carrot Cake with a Frosting of Mascarpone and Orange (pg. 179) soon, and I’ve currently got some chickpeas on the stove for tonight’s dinnner of Chickpeas with Pumpkin, Lemongrass and Coriander (pg. 506).

The negatives of this book are few and far between. If you aren’t interested in gardening or eating locally it probably won’t be for you, as you’ll get more bang for your buck with a larger, more comprehensive vegetable cookbook. I suppose Tender could contain more recipes; I mean, four broccoli dishes is hardly all the vegetable has to offer, is it?

Still, what Tender does, it does very well. This is a collection of reliable recipes, made from ingredients local to many of us living in the Northern Hemisphere. I’m giving Tender a solid four stars and a strong suggestion that you check it out. While cooking from this book might not feel exactly like sitting down to dine with the author, it’s as close as I’m likely to get.

First of all, I need to impart, but am not sure I can adequately put into words, just how freakin’ gorgeous this book is. As somebody who is generally aesthetically-led, I like my instructional manuals with a little eye candy on the side. Having said that, I can appreciate many different styles of cookbook, from spare and encyclopedic to colourful and over-the-top, if done well. Jamie at Home, however, is hands-down my current favourite, combining superb photos, charming illustrations and gorgeous typography. The photos alone are enough to sell it to me- not limited to the dishes themselves, there are also pictures of Jamie’s own garden in Essex, animals frolicking in the British countryside, and wild mushrooms sheltering in idyllic woodland. Printed on quality matte paper, and with as much attention to detail as to abundance, it’s 400 pages of pure gastronomic joy. 

First impressions aside, the content of this book is also something to behold. Divided into Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, each part is further broken down into mini-chapters on seasonal produce. Asparagus for Spring, Beans for Summer, Game for Autumn, and so on. Because Jamie at Home is not simply a recipe book but a kitchen-garden manual of sorts, each mini-chapter contains a lot of information, in addition to the recipes. Everything from nutritional facts to an in-depth “How I Grow…” section, which gives instructions and tips on planting and harvesting the veg in question. Not very helpful to me, with my precisely zero square feet of outside space, but I can see how this would be immensely useful to someone who had the space and inclination to grow their own food. 

Now to the good stuff: the recipes. Almost everything in this book looks incredible, making it difficult to decide what to try first. The recipes are mainly British with a strong Italian slant, but Spanish, French and other flavours are also employed here. Obviously, there is a strong emphasis on local, seasonal ingredients, so the recipes that I’ve tried so far are mainly from the Autumn and Winter chapters. Among them, there have been some real winners- Butternut Squash Muffins with a Frosty Top (pg. 364) were so good I blogged about them on Kitchenist, English Onion Soup with Sage and Cheddar (pg. 146) was silky and flavourful, and Pappardelle with Slow-Braised Leeks and Crispy Porcini Pangattato (pg. 333) has become a real staple in my house. In the spirit of eating seasonally, I am waiting until warmer weather brings the ingredients I need to make some of the other dishes I’ve been eyeing, including Incredible Smashed Peas and Fava Beans on Toast (pg. 156) and Warm Strawberries with Pimm’s and Vanilla Ice Cream (pg. 201)

Of course with the good often comes the bad, and there is no exception here. Some recipes I tried fell short of my expectations; the enticing Italian Bread and Cabbage Soup with Sage Butter (pg. 388) delivered a slimy, salty disappointment, and my boyfriend announced that Jamie’s recipe for Calzone (pg. 180) tasted like “farm”, and not in a good way. (I had no idea what he was talking about at first, but as I ate on, I had to agree, and the calzone was left unfinished. Perhaps I’m just incredibly impressionable?)

It’s also all a bit “meaty” for my liking. Besides that actual meat, poultry and game recipes, Jamie always seems to be adding meat to things that would otherwise make lovely vegetarian dishes. A few slices of proscuitto here, some chopped pancetta there, some anchovy fillets in this sauce- the man just can’t help himself. While I really don’t have a problem with this in theory (I simply leave out the offending ingredient), I find it strange that a book which presents itself as being all about vegetables contains so few truly vegetarian recipes. Of course, if you aren’t vegetarian, this won’t matter at all to you- more meaty bang for your buck, right? 

In all likelihood, however, I won’t be letting a few failed recipes turn me off. Now that I’ve dived in, Jamie’s beautiful books and down-to-earth writing style have made an impression on me, and I’m looking forward to reviewing more of his books in the future.

As for Jamie at Home, I’ll be working my way through it as the seasons change, hoping for more hits than misses. The gardening sections will certainly be helpful if there is a backyard somewhere in my future, meaning that for now at least, this book is a keeper.