I was surprised, then, to find out how much I liked the idea of this book. Vefa’s Kitchen was published this year by Phaidon Press*, and is the London-based publisher’s Greek equivalent to its previously-published Italian food bible, The Silver Spoon. Vefa Alexiadou is, as Google tells me, much like a Greek Delia Smith or Julia Child: a cookery writer and television presenter for 30 years, she is considered the leading authority on Greek cuisine.

*In the interest of transparency, a disclaimer: Some of you might have noticed that I’ve reviewed several Phaidon books here. Though I do have a friend who works for the company and gets a (very much appreciated) employee discount, all are paid for and none are freebies. As a sucker for good design and good food, I just really like them!

To start off, let’s talk about that good design. I loved the look of this book from the first page. While slightly less playful with type and illustration than its Italian counterpart, Vefa’s Kitchen more than makes up for it with wonderful photographs. They cover everything you’d want in a book like this, from evocative images of postcard-perfect Greece to simply-styled, modern but timeless food photography. The rest of the book is lovely too, with a watercolour “Greek key” cover design and matching page-keepers.

Like any good foreign-food manual, Vefa’s Kitchen kicks off with an introduction to Greek cuisine, which includes an informative (and surprisingly interesting) breakdown of the different Greek regions, their histories and native foods. It then moves on to its 21 recipe-filled chapters, which include Mezedes, Pasta, Shellfish, Pork, Lamb, Bread, Cakes, Candies and Preserves, and Menus from Celebrated Greek Chefs. Phew.

I was surprised, perhaps naively, by how approachable many of the recipes here seemed. While there is an awful lot of pickling, frying and yes, stuffing things into other things, there are also many dishes which are familiar and comforting to a Western palate. Feta Omelette with Egg Noodles (pg. 271) is just Greek enough to make you feel like you’ve achieved something new, while Sesame Bread Rings (pg. 528) look like little Greek bagels. If it’s Greek food you want though, Eggplant Fritters (pg. 100), Octopus Stifado (pg. 332), Moussaka (pg. 419) or Sweet Cheese Tarts (pg. 548) will do you nicely.

The recipes here are also very well organized, with a ton of information included. Incredibly (and usefully) all weights and measures are given in both metric and imperial, and oven temperatures in Celsius, Fahrenheit and Gas Mark. I particularly like the attention paid to the recipe names: each one is given in English, in Greek and phonetically.

Of course, not everything is calm seas and smooth sailing. Like The Silver Spoon, Vefa’s Kitchen suffers somewhat from a lack of space. While the type and layout here make the recipes easier to read, instructions are still crammed into a too-small space in a paragraphical format. Numbered steps or shorter paragraphs would have been preferable, particularly when dealing with foreign ingredients and techniques.

Perhaps it’s unfair of me to keep comparing Vefa’s Kitchen to The Silver Spoon. After all, if you like Greek food but hate Italian (or vice versa), they’ll be no contest. I simply can’t help it though; these two tomes are from the same publisher, and both are attempting to summarize a nation’s cuisine in fewer than 1000 pages.

Taking that into account, I’ve decided to give Vefa’s Kitchen a three-star rating, one less than its sister. The look, photography and draw of this book make it more appealing, but given that I haven’t quite been converted from my all-consuming love of Italian food, I’ll probably use it less often. Someone who loves Greek food might feel differently though, so if that’s you- you can’t go wrong with this one.

Regular readers of my blogs know that I adore Italian food, and this adoration tends to extend to most Italian cookbooks. But although I’ve had The Silver Spoon in my possession for almost nine months now, I’ve delayed reviewing it here. Frankly, this thing is so huge and comprehensive that I’m a little intimidated by it, and somewhat stumped as to how to present a well-rounded critique. To simply tell you about the dishes I’ve cooked from this book would be futile; with over 2000 recipes, it’s only ever going to be a tiny percentage.

Visually, The Silver Spoon is somewhat dry. Though published by the design-centric Phaidon Press, it’s not favourite cookbook of theirs; it certainly doesn’t fill me with delight like my copy of Breakfast, Lunch, Tea. With so much content to work with, the designers clearly had to make compromises to avoid ending up with a book the size of a small car. As a result, the recipes themselves are somewhat cramped, and what scant photography there is contributes little to the overall feel of the book. 

There are things I do like about the design though, including the use of type in the section headings, and the charming line drawings scattered through the pages. Many of the most successful visual devices here are actually in the name of organization; for example each section is colour-coded, and clever tabs along the top of the page allow you to quickly find what you want. If you can keep track of 15 different colours and what they mean, of course. 

Yup, The Silver Spoon contains an astonishing 15 chapters, beginning with the standard Cooking Terms and Tools and Equipment, before moving into those including (but not limited to) Antipasti, Appetizers and Pizzas, First Courses, Meat and Offal, Cheese and Desserts and Baking. Each chapter is further broken down by ingredient, and then by recipe. At the end of the book, there’s a sizable Menus chapter, which contains Italian-themed menus and recipes by celebrated chefs from around the world.

As for the recipes themselves, they’re delightfully varied: in the Vegetables section, for instance, you’ll find three for Dandelions (pg. 435), four for Pumpkin (pg. 575), and 17 for Tomatoes (pg. 538). All the classic Italian favourites are present (including Bruschetta, pg. 95 and Milanese Risotto, pg. 330), along with some that are slightly less, er, mainstream. (Brain Roulades with Truffle, pg. 855, anybody?) But neither is The Silver Spoon a tour of stereotypical, cookie-cutter Italy. The presence of many international dishes like Indonesian Rice (pg. 318) and English Bread and Butter Pudding (pg. 1027) are a testament to how varied the country’s cuisine really is.

Be warned, though: while this book may teach you how to cook Italian food, it won’t teach you how to cook. Unless you’re at least somewhat confident with the ins and outs of a kitchen, you’ll find The Silver Spoon confusing, as explanation and clear instruction is somewhat lacking. I also find that there’s rather a lot of jumping around between recipes, with certain dishes almost nothing more than a combination of others. Not that I really mind this; it’s simply a book that assumes you know how to cook, and are using it first and foremost for the recipes.

Well, I do know how to cook, and still I’ll admit: I haven’t used this book nearly as often as I first imagined. Oh, don’t get me wrong- I love reading it, and I’ve used it as a reference countless times, but it’s not the first book I reach for when I need a new recipe. Whether that’s because of its intimidating size or lack of visual enticement, I can’t really say. I do have a hunch that The Silver Spoon is more of a long-term love than a quick fling, though, and I’ll probably be using and treasuring my copy for years to come. After all, generations of Italian brides can’t be wrong. 

With careful consideration, I’ve decided to give this book four stars. Deserving of top marks for its breadth and authenticity, The Silver Spoon nonetheless loses out for the depth of its instructions, and for failing, just slightly, to draw me in. Still, if you’re looking for the mamma of all Italian cookbooks, this is it. 

I do, however, have Breakfast, Lunch, Tea, the cookbook written by Rose Carrarini, one of the co-founders of Rose Bakery. I was lucky enough to receive this book as a Christmas present , and have been soaking it up since then. The look of the book is typical of its publisher, Phaidon: modern and pared-down, with beautiful photographs and attention to layout. The photos, a mixture of food shots and scenes of bakery life, perfectly evoke the buzzy, friendly, slightly bohemian vibe of the bakery itself. 

Rose Bakery is known for a strong focus on quality, fresh ingredients, something that the introduction of Breakfast, Lunch, Tea deals with at length, though not in boring or prescriptive way. The fact that so many delicious commercial recipes (and that is what these are, essentially- just scaled down) are made with such simple ingredients is truly something special. I can’t even begin to imagine what goes into some of the baked goods you find in London- a little synthetic preservative here, a little citric acid there- you get the idea.

A collection of Rose Bakery’s most popular recipes, the book is divided into three sections. Breakfast is a perfect mix of sweet and savory, featuring cereals, scones, pancakes, fruit and egg dishes. The Lunch chapter is also, and perhaps surprisingly, enticing and varied: soups and salads, tarts and risottos, even some more substantial fish and meat dishes feature here. Tea, however, is where this book really shines. The chapter is filled with delicious-looking and -sounding tarts, cakes, biscuits, bars and puddings.  

All this deliciousness probably delayed me actually cooking from this book. For the first two months it was in my possession, I was content to simply read Breakfast, Lunch, Tea, being, if I’m honest, a little too intimidated to try the recipes. I can now attest, though, that I’ve been well and truly cured of that, and this book is one of my favourites to bake from now. I started with the best-selling Carrot Cake (pg. 128), which I made for my sister’s birthday. Everyone who tasted it loved it, and I will go so far as to say that it was the best carrot cake I’ve ever tasted, let alone made. The breakfasts I’ve made have been winners, too; both the Plain Scones (pg. 58) and Maple Syrup Scones (pg. 62) were delicious, though a bit crumbly-er than some might care for. From the savory recipes, I’ve made the Squash Tart (pg. 89), which I adapted and blogged about, and the Celeriac and Porcini Soup (pg. 73), both of which turned out well. 

I actually struggle to think of anything negative to say about this book. It isn’t trying to be a one-size-fits-all baking manual, but rather a collection of the bakery’s most popular recipes, so I can’t very well complain about things left out. Every recipe I’ve made has delivered, so nothing wrong there. Even my fallback complaint, that a book is too meaty, clearly isn’t going to help me. The best I can do in terms of complaints is say that most of the recipes, oh, aren’t that healthy, but even I think that’s a weak one- it’s a baking book, for heaven’s sake!  

Someone looking for a comprehensive, only-baking-book-you’ll-ever-need type tome might be better off to keep looking, but if all you want is a well-edited selection of lovely recipes from a tested source, however, you can’t go wrong with this book.