An Ode To Nigel Slater

[mf_blockquote layout=”left”]”The beauty of a single lettuce, its inner leaves tight and crisp, the outer ones opened up like those of a cottage garden rose; the glowing saffron flesh of a cracked pumpkin; the curling tendrils of a pea plant; a bunch of long, white-tipped radishes; a bag of assorted tomatoes in shades of scarlet, green and orange… ”[/mf_blockquote]

And of course, I love his food. Slater, who writes frequently about his kitchen garden in books and magazine columns, has spoken about how growing his own vegetables changes the way he thinks about cooking. “It’s just the pleasure of growing something,” he says, “of watching it start out as a seed and then turn into something that you can cook.”

Nigel Slater’s newest book, available on Amazon.

He is a grower’s cook, letting simple ingredients shine, and he also brings a gardener’s pragmatism to the kitchen; he never makes me feel like I’m letting that glowing saffron pumpkin down. In both his recipes and in his chatty asides and suggestions, he comes across as someone who won’t look askance at, say, a slightly charred potato, or mind if you double (or triple) the amount of curry in one of his dishes. “Cooking should, surely, be a lighthearted, spirited affair,” he writes in the introduction to his latest cookbook, “Eat: The Little Book of Fast Food,” which made it’s U.S. debut last week. Yes, surely!

In the book, Slater provides recipes that are quick enough to avoid hunger-induced rage without the carelessness that would make you feel sad about yourself. If you’re out of turnips for an orzo dish, use eggplant. Making fried rice? Throw a leftover in there (just not all your leftovers; his goal is to be practical without being sloppy).

This past weekend, I made a generous serving of potatoes with spices and spinach and eggplant curry from “Eat” for the vegetarians at an Eid al-Adha celebration. While I didn’t grow the food, I did get the eggplants and potatoes from nearby Blue Star Farm, and they deserved to be showcased. The potatoes, drizzled with yogurt and topped off with cilantro, were, as Slater advised, “hot, cool, crisp, soft.” In an addendum to the recipe, he noted that a can of chickpeas could extend the curry: I took him up on it.

Slater’s approach here is to describe the recipe the way you would to a friend, over the phone (some of these recipes began as tweets, he writes). While some, like me, will find this relaxing (even liberating), a less experienced cook might feel daunted by the lack of instruction. Potatoes are roasted “until crisp,” and measurements get vague for some lesser ingredients. My advice would be to experiment and not worry too much about making a few mistakes; as Thomas Jefferson – who also approached his table via the garden – once said, “the failure of one thing [is] repaired by the success of another.”

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Ingredients: potatoes, cayenne, red pepper flakes, turmeric, cumin, garlic, spinach, shallots, yogurt and cilantro.

Cut 1 ¾ pounds large starchy potatoes into big pieces and cook in a large pot of salted water for about 15 minutes, till approaching tenderness. Peel 5 large shallots and halve them lengthwise. Drain the potatoes, then put them in a bowl, add the shallots, and toss with half a teaspoon of cayenne, a teaspoon of red pepper flakes, a teaspoon of crushed garlic, and a teaspoon each of ground cumin and turmeric. Add 2 teaspoons of sea salt flakes and 4 tablespoons of peanut oil, then transfer to a roasting pan and bake at 400 degrees F until crisp. Wash a couple of large handfuls of spinach. Put them in a pan over moderate heat, cover with a lid, and leave for a minute or two to wilt. Toss with the crisp potatoes, a little yogurt, and torn cilantro.

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