In my family, we’re very big on stockings at Christmas. Far from being just an appetizer, in my parents’ house, the stockings are the main event. Truthfully, I could take or leave the stuff under the tree (but don’t tell them that). All year long my Mum picks up little things she thinks we’ll like, and on Christmas morning the result is an eclectic selection of goodies, ranging from the practical to the indulgent.
Anyway, moving swiftly on. Where I’m going with this is, often my foodie family is gifted with small kitchen- and cooking-related items, which are always a highlight. Two years ago, my Mum found these River Café Pocket Books while on holiday in the UK, and, diligently thinking ahead to Christmas, purchased three of them.
Written by Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers of the The River Café restaurant in London, there are four books in this series: Pasta & Ravioli, Fish & Shellfish, Puddings, Cakes & Ice Creams, and Salads & Vegetables. I recieved the last one, probably as I wasn’t yet a vegetarian at that point, and my Mum was worried that I wasn’t getting enough leafy greens. (She really has no right to complain that I’m difficult to feed now- look what she started!)
The book is, as it says on the tin, one of those long, thin, “pocket-sized” numbers. This in itself has always confused me- surely nobody really carries around cookbooks with them, for a little light train-reading? The size also makes it impractical to cook from; these books never stay open by themselves, necessitating a knife, plate, or other heavy object precariously balanced on top to keep the page open. Other than that, I have no qualms with the look of the book: the layout is clean, the typography modern, and the photographs good, if nothing particularly special.
In that way, this book is much like the River Cafe itself: substance over style, and for that I can hardly fault it. The recipes here are simple and honest, relying on the flavour of a few key ingredients, rather than lots of fancy seasoning. Fresh produce is definitely the word of the day here, which makes most of these recipes extremely seasonal. In some cases, this actually works against the book, because where on earth am I going to find fresh borlotti beans in London, at any time of year?
The dishes I have made the effort to try, whether by seeking out the elusive fresh ingredients or by cheating and using (shh) canned, have been lovely. I particularly liked Broad Beans braised in Milk with Sage (#42) which, eaten with garlic toast, is a great simple dinner. Potato and Pancetta Gratin (#101) is delicious, as are Grilled Leeks with Thyme (#36).
To be honest, I don’t cook from this book that much anymore. Since I stopped eating meat, the need for vegetarian sides has receded, and these days I’m mainly a one-pot-meal kind of girl. I assume my former omnivorous prejudice had relegated Salads & Vegetables to side-dish territory, and written it off for that reason. Flipping though the book right now, though, there are loads of things I could make, many meals in themselves. Ricotta and Chard on Pasta Frolla (#96) seems right up my alley, but for some reason, I know it’s low on my to-cook list.
After much consideration, I’m going to give this book three stars. If you’re looking for a small but varied guide to cooking vegetables, and have access to lots of fresh produce, you might love it; I certainly can’t fault the recipes themselves. For me, though, it doesn’t draw me in enough for top marks.
