Do you ever look at a recipe and think, 'Where am I supposed to get hold of bream?' Or, 'I'll never be able to pull that off!' On average, people cook no more than two dishes from each cookbook they buy. Why? Because most of the other recipes seem just too daunting. This is where Nicholas Clee comes to the rescue. He shows you a new approach to cooking, teaches you how to experiment with ingredients, and gives you the confidence not to have to follow recipes to the letter. Don't Sweat the Aubergine tells you what other cookbooks leave out, answers the questions you always want to ask and clarifies all those maddening inconsistencies - why do some writers tell you to wash and soak rice before cooking, while others never mention it? Why won't mince brown the way they tell you? Will an aubergine taste better or cook more easily if you sweat it with salt beforehand? Written in Clee's easy, wry style, and packed with his own selection of jargon-busting recipes which will deliciously broaden your range of standbys, this is the last cook book you will ever need to buy...
What a truly awful and pointless book. No self-respecting cookbook author should include recipes that they themselves admit they have not tested. This book is contradictory, suggests techniques that do not work (an experienced chef in the household tells me) and includes recipes lifted from other chefs, some of which have been incorrectly copied - eg. a Raymond Blanc clafoutis recipe that called for 200g of flour when the original recipe only asked for 20g, which I only realised after having made a horrible rubbery concoction and then going and finding Ramond Blanc's original to find out what went wrong. This author usually writes True Crime, which tells you everything you need to know.
That cookery books date is an oft overlooked truism. Good pork is unobtainable unless one rears the pig oneself. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read (not in this book) to ‘fry bacon until crisp’ Fried crispness of supermarket bacon or lardons is unachievable using supermarket bacon or lardons, which have been pumped full of a polyphosphate solution. It gets no better when trying to brown skirt steak bought from the butcher, for a stew. I never cease to be amazed at just how much water commercial processes have succeeded in incorporating. Here I am, the end consumer, and I resent being charged the price of beef rather than water.
Nicholas Clee hits the nail, on the head by urging his reader to THINK before following a recipe; the instruction may simply refer to cooking processes and a quality of ingredient (whether bacon or aubergines) that are out of date; recipe directions copied from an unscientific source; or simply unhelpful to the reader whose kitchen is (invariably) stocked with different equipment to that of the author.
Clee entertainingly teaches a way of thinking that all cooks, domestic or professional, whether inexperienced or experienced, would do well to take note of, learn and emulate. I love both his easy, chatty, style of writing, and that he doesn’t stop at how to do [something], he also explains WHY to do it this way. To me, as a scientist, its painfully obvious that it is so much easy to acquire a skill if one knows why it’s best done ‘this’ way & not ‘that’ way. I also TOTALLY love the complete absence of page-wasting glossy photographs.
Clee justifies his praise for (amongst others) Harold McGee, Shaun Hill, Elizabeth David, Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall. He is less complimentary, again, giving specific reasons. about specific guidance given by (amongst others) Delia Smith and Heston Blumenthal. Yet. we, the masses, are constantly told by Delia how tested, tested, and tested again her recipes are. A little scepticism and humility in a cook is a worthy quality.
A word of caution must be injected at this point. I found plenty to both agree and disagree with in this book, which I have borrowed from my public library. I read the first edition (2005). A second edition of “Don’t Sweat The Aubergine” (does the date of 26 April 2012 refers to the date of the second edition, or to the latest printing?) has since been published; so I have high hopes that Mr Clee has discovered how useful microwave (or combination) ovens are, and has surely read Harold McGee’s awesome major revision of “On Food And Cooking.” I’ll leave him to his food processor. I’ll stick with my wonderful Swiss Bamix & associated accessories.
I have taken an awful lot of words to convey a simple message: If you cook, whether you enjoy cooking or not, THIS title deserves a permanent place on your bookshelf, and to be frequently taken off the shelf, read, and used. Though this is probably NOT the book to buy as a “Thank-you for inviting me/us to dinner” it would be an excellent present for anyone setting up their first home.
Entertaining and amusing, with some really interesting information about how cooking actually works. I read through from start to finish, and there was some repetitive information - but perfect if you were using as a reference to look up specific items. Not at all dry and boring, but entertaining and informative.