First published in 1962, Elizabeth David's culinary odyssey through provincial France forever changed the way we think about food. With elegant simplicity, David explores the authentic flavors and textures of time-honored cuisines from such provinces as Alsace, Provence, Brittany, and the Savoie. Full of cooking ideas and recipes, French Provincial Cooking is a scholarly yet straightforward celebration of the traditions of French regional cooking.
Born Elizabeth Gwynne, she was of mixed English and Irish ancestry, and came from a rather grand background, growing up in the 17th-century Sussex manor house, Wootton Manor. Her parents were Rupert Gwynne, Conservative MP for Eastbourne, and the Hon. Stella Ridley, who came from a distinguished Northumberland family. They had three other daughters.
She studied Literature and History at the Sorbonne, living with a French family for two years, which led to her love of France and of food. At the age of 19, she was given her first cookery book, The Gentle Art of Cookery by Hilda Leyel, who wrote of her love with the food of the East. "If I had been given a standard Mrs Beeton instead of Mrs Leyel's wonderful recipes," she said, "I would probably never have learned to cook."
Gwynne had an adventurous early life, leaving home to become an actress. She left England in 1939, when she was twenty-five, and bought a boat with her married lover Charles Gibson-Cowan intending to travel around the Mediterranean. The onset of World War II interrupted this plan, and they had to flee the German occupation of France. They left Antibes for Corsica and then on to Italy where the boat was impounded; they arrived on the day Italy declared war on Britain. Eventually deported to Greece, living on the Greek island of Syros for a period, Gwynne learnt about Greek food and spent time with high bohemians such as the writer Lawrence Durrell. When the Germans invaded Greece they fled to Crete where they were rescued by the British and evacuated to Egypt, where she lived firstly in Alexandria and later in Cairo. There Gwynne started work for the Ministry of Information, split from Gibson-Cowan, and eventually took on a marriage of convenience, more or less as her aunt, Violet Gordon-Woodhouse, had done. This gave her a measure of respectability but Lieutenant-Colonel Tony David was a man whom she did not ultimately respect, and their relationship ended soon after an eight month posting in India. She had many lovers in ensuing years.
On her return to London in 1946, David began to write articles on cooking, and in 1949 the publisher John Lehmann offered her a £100 advance for Book of Mediterranean Food, the start of a dazzling writing career. David spent eight months researching Italian food in Venice, Tuscany and Capri. This resulted in Italian Food in 1954, with illustrations by Renato Guttuso, which was famously described by Evelyn Waugh in The Sunday Times as one of the two books which had given him the most pleasure that year.
Many of the ingredients were unknown in England when the books were first published, as shortages and rationing continued for many years after the end of the war, and David had to suggest looking for olive oil in pharmacies where it was sold for treating earache. Within a decade, ingredients such as aubergines, saffron and pasta began to appear in shops, thanks in no small part to David's books. David gained fame, respect and high status and advised many chefs and companies. In November 1965, she opened her own shop devoted to cookery in Pimlico, London. She wrote articles for Vogue magazine, one of the first in the genre of food-travel.
In 1963, when she was 49, she suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, possibly related to her heavy drinking. Although she recovered, it affected her sense of taste and her libido.
In the area of post-war Britain where I grew up, olive oil came in small brown dropper bottles supplied by the pharmacist for softening earwax and tended to be rancid. Red wine wasn’t available in off-license stores, let alone on supermarket shelves. In fact there weren’t even any supermarkets. Garlic? No one grew it locally, grocers didn’t carry it. Ditto mushrooms. Ditto olives, green or black, pitted or otherwise. Capers were what kids got up to and anchovies something that cropped up in Lord Peter Wimsey stories. Parsley to one side, herbs were found, if they were found at all, dried and ground. Seasoning amounted to plain rock salt and powdered white pepper. Pasta. nowhere to be seen.
So Daube de Boeuf Provençal was always going to be a challenge. And even though Elizabeth David was reassuring about how the dish could be warmed over, getting home from the office, no one I knew came home from the office.
But for me, all those years ago, cooking the recipes was never the point. What her book did was to introduce a completely alien culture - exotic, exciting, tantalizing. Overwhelming. A glimpse of somewhere else. A hope for a brighter future.
I grew up reading through cookbooks as if they were novels. I spent a lot of time in my Seattle grandmother's kitchen, or my family's kitchen, sitting on the floor and reading cookbooks and looking at pictures (when I wasn't doing sous chef duties). Cooking or baking occurred throughout these times, as did conversation on many topics, but the cookbook in my lap always had a lot of my attention. I still read them like novels.
I learned to cook and bake through osmosis - watching and helping and eating and talking about all kinds of good food, what made it good, and why certain choices were made. Once I was on my own I really started cooking. My primary tools were The Joy of Cooking and L'Escoffier along with others that I picked up on my own.
Still I often think of Elizabeth David, especially reading A Taste of the Sun on a rainy winter evening, or even a bright summer day. She's up there with Julia Child and James Beard as my favorite writers of what we call food porn in my family. There's something so lovely and conversational about Ms. David, always writing in clear precise prose with sketches of recipes rather than the precise lists that we're used to - Ingredients/Serves/Recipe. I realized when reading this book again that that's the way recipes are shared over the table. "How'd you make that?" "Oh, I took the chicken and did this with it with these herbs and oils and cooking techniqued it for however long." My father and grandmother were very fond of this kind of recipe exchange and for a long time I had sketches like this on the back of envelopes or on notebook pages or whatever else came to hand - these lay around in various places until I wanted them. Once I committed them to memory (by cooking them over and over again) they went the way of all things on the backs of envelopes.
If you haven't read David, you must. She's probably more familiar in England than here (although that may have changed). Her style is anecdotal, but exacting - full of details that may seem picky, but that prove their worth when you use them. Honestly, I think Nigella Lawson wishes she was Elizabeth David - not to criticize Lawson, but David is obviously the template for much of what she does.
What a wonderful read and a great book for building technique and ideas. One word about format - I bought this for my Kindle for the ease of novel reading, but may buy a printed copy depending on how well cooking from this goes. I'm not sure the e-book format has the right feel for cookbooks which should be hefty, well-used, and covered in places with sauce stains.
Elizabeth David is the british equivalent of Julia Childs. They were both exploring French cuisine while living as expats in France during the 1950's (David also lived in Italy, and Greece). She gathered traditional french provincial (think simple) recipes back to England. This book, published in 1960, had the same revolutionary effect on english cooking that Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking had on american.
It is a fun read and the recipes are quite good. The recipes are not what we're used to in modern terms though. They're more simple instructions than actual step-by-step directions. I've found this to be true in Italy too, so it may just be a cultural difference. Mainland europe doesn't have standard measurements either, i. e. tablespoons, cups, etc. They use whatever utensil or glass is on hand.
This is an excellent cookery book, filled with recipes and flavours that to this day still haunt my palette.
I've eaten most of the original recipes contained in this volume, all of these cooked for my family by Elizabeth David herself when I was four years old. We were her test subjects at the time, gladly helping her to check the size of the portions. Back then, we were living in post Second World War poverty in Sandwich near Ham, Kent. Most of the time our food was dull, boring and scarce. In fact, at times we were so hungry, my brother and I would resort to stealing. To suddenly have these luxurious, large, delicious meals on the weekends then, was something like christmas coming early. They made such an impression on me that later, as a student, I cooked many of these recipes and had the master copy to compare my own versions with. One particular recipe, the red cabbage, apple and red wine stew, stands out in my mind. I still dream longingly of it. As for Elizabeth David herself, she was always generous, giving me cans of olive oil, pots, pans and recipes and encouraging my love of good food. For this especially I will be forever grateful to the writer.
Added References:
Below is a letter from Elizabeth David to George Lassalle, my father and also prize winning cookery writer on fish and Middle Eastern food. After meeting at the Cairo library during the Second World War (aprox. 1940), where my father was stationed as an intelligence officer, Elizabeth and he began a relationship. The letter, dated May 16th (and I know that the year is 1953), comes from a while later, when my father - then back in England and encouraging Elizabeth to continue writing cookery books - was asked to go to Egypt to spy on the new President Nasser for British Intelligence. Aware of the impending trip, Elizabeth asks him to do some research on Arab cuisine for her.
This is a classic cookbook for making French bourgeois dishes (as opposed to haute cuisine), written for a British audience in 1960. The fundamental philosophy – local, fresh, and seasonal – is the one California believes it discovered in the 1970s with New American Cuisine. I have the 1999 Penguin edition with a foreword by Julia Child. Otherwise, the book is just a reprint of the original.
David includes tables for converting among French, UK, and American measures but, for myself, I wrote inside the cover that a dessertspoon is 2 teaspoons (she even says a half dessertspoon rather than a teaspoon) and that an after-dinner coffee cup is 2-3 ounces, since these come up often. There’s the usual aubergine=eggplant and courgette=zucchini hoopla. (You will be helpfully informed that courgettes are “very small mallows.”)
Probably 80 percent of the dishes are within the abilities of the average home cook. She gives you good alternatives for things like obscurely specific French pans, a few simplified techniques, and ingredient substitutions. In other areas, where she thinks it is important, she is a stickler for traditional preparation, but then she steps you through the process carefully.
Near the beginning, David provides a lightning-quick tour of French regions and their classic dishes, local foodstuffs, and drinks. This section is alright but if you’re really interested, I recommend Waverley Root’s (1958 [1992]) The Food of France in preference.
I think this was the book that taught me how to cook. It's opinionated, dirigiste, superbly written and selected, and if curse all the recipes not only work - they take you off to a France that went out when a DS was a very sexy car, not a games console.
love her aristocratic style, curt, take no prisoners. she assumes you know the basics and would not deign to describe how to chop an onion. has no use for 'chefs' it is after all just cookery. the inclusion of excerpts of other writers, some of them very old, is delightful. and yes, the recipes are great.
hm, her writing about food and experience is amazing, her insights about packing the piehole--oh what joy! but unfortunately this person is, ahem, of her times and extraordinarily racist and classist. total fader, babes.
This took me months to get through, and I treated it like reading a classic or historical novel. It was interesting enough that I finished it. As a storybook, it was great. As a cookbook, not so much. There were some parts that stood out in its disagreeability, because I guess it just came from another time.
Stuff like cooking live lobsters is the only way to do it properly. I don't cook lobsters, is that true? That just seems a little cruel.
The book used imperial units.
She wrote beautifully: "Put them into an earthernware jar filled with water; the olives must not be closely packed but must swim at their ease."
But as a non-cook, the instructions would not be ones that I could follow. "Change the water every day for 6 to 8 days, and when the olives have lost all their bitter taste change the water for the last time, adding 8 to 10oz. of melted salt and a big bouquet of fennel." Do I taste the water? Do I taste an olive? How do you melt salt? How do you measure melted salt?
As a storybook, excellent: "The noble lady after whom it is called was the rich and beautiful Marquise de Valromey, who married her brother-in-law, the Marquis de Valromey, after her first husband had divorced her to enter holy orders." Woa what?! Way juicier than the actual recipe it appeared in- "hare stewed in red wine"!
Food tastes also change. Back them, it seemed like every bird was roasted after wrapping in bacon. All fruits seems to be cooked. "Usually I only find bananas acceptable when they are fried as a vegetable, or cooked in butter and rum.." Maybe this reflected a time when food storage and logistics made it not possible to enjoy fresh bananas?
If you're interested in food history, I recommend the show "Back in Time for Dinner" by on ABC tv (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) where an Australian family prepares and eats the food of a particular decade for a week.
You should read this if you want a foundation in (European) cooking.
One of the great food writers of western cooking in the 20th century. And Elizabeth is a great writer. The book is educationally delivered, but the stories surrounding dishes are often with wit and bounce. The fondness she has for the food on the page is clear, and the times she is forthcoming about a dish, even when she’s not particularly interested in it, are even more pronounced.
An extremely well-researched piece, with the glossary and bibliography being more than 50 pages alone, Elizabeth knows her stuff. Much of the technique and ingredients in this book are not in use today. I'm curious how much we forgot, versus we as a society decided to move away from - for taste or ease or economics. I'm also curious if this is how we use to cook and shop. Whether this was sequestered to the french bourgeois or the average American home cook was also thinking about cooking in these terms.
French Provencal Cooking really changed how I think about food in a lot of ways. A lot of the technique presented here comes from necessity (lack of refrigeration, etc) and we no longer need to think about food handling in quite the same way. But that doesn't mean old/outdated technique should be cast aside. I'm curious which of this is still deeply delicious, coupled with any extra burden, compared to what/how we cook now.
If you’re very interested in cooking, I can't recommend this enough. Additionally, if you’re interested in history (particularly food history post-1850) I would doubly recommend this. A great read.
I havn't over-rated this book not because I don't love that the recipes are the real deal, harvested from the real Provence but because it's not such a practical book for today's home cook. However it is perfect for somebody looking to do a deep dive into genuine country, family French cooking and the culture of the region.
I’ve needed a new copy of this book for some years now; the spine of the book I own has more than cracked; it has entirely separated down its length into two halves; facilitating a number of the bolder pages to detach and rashly make their individual bids for freedom. Two elastic bands tentatively hold all together. But for how much longer?
This is one of the books which taught me how to hunt through the London markets of Covent Garden and Leadenhall, and how to cook what I found there. Why was I not using an English book? Well, for a start, Elizabeth David’s style of writing had a lot to do with the attraction. She’s a great communicator. Even if the reader is rash enough never to cook anything from this book, the knowledge shared within these pages is more than enough to ensure confidence ordering in a French restaurant (everyday cooking, not haute cuisine).
This is a ‘nose to tail’ type of book. After an Introduction, and a discussion of French cooking in England, Mrs David progresses to describe the style of cooking in each geographical region, kitchen know-how, then the recipes from sauces to meat, what to do with any left overs, sweet dishes, and finally finishes with a flourish of cookery books, bibliography and index. One doesn’t have to cook to enjoy this book.
I like the Observer’s (a national British broadsheet newspaper) comment that …One could cook for a lifetime on the book alone. I feel guilty that I am fortunate to have such a large library of cookery and cookery-related books; yet from each I have cooked barely a handful of recipes: probably because I tend to gravitate to this book first (which could explain why it’s falling apart). Take, for example, “La Queue de Boeuf des Vignerons (Oxtail Stewed with White Grapes) (pp. 409-410), which tastes every bit as good as it sounds, and is not technically difficult.
The other good thing about cooking from a book like this is that it keeps my local butcher alert and interested. I occasionally have give him advance notice of the cuts I want; but I haven’t yet found myself asking for any French cut that would be uneconomical for a British butcher to cut (the two countries do divide the carcasse differently).
In 1964 this book cost seven shillings and sixpence (equivalent today to £6.44 new pence, calculated using http://www.thisismoney.co.uk/money/bi... ). That sounds like good value; and more so given that today the RRP is £12.99 (i.e. inflation of nearly 100% over fifty years), with Waterstones pricing at £9.79 with free delivery. No, I’m not advertising Waterstones; just using a bricks and mortar shop for comparison.
Possibly the best French cookbook ever written in English. David, an Englishwoman, provided an introspection into French country cooking before Julia Child captured America's heart with it—in fact, as I understand it, David was an inspiration to Child. There's not a bunch of fancy color photos here, instead, you'll find mainly pen-and-ink line drawings, but there's a wealth of text, good recipes, and pithy details on how and why things were done the way they were in provincial France. Remember, David wrote this in 1960 so she encountered truly traditional methods to cooking before French cooking, like all cooking, changed due to microwaves, two-income families, and all else from the 1970s onward. The historical value of this book cannot be overstated, but every recipe I've cooked from it also has come out great. It's published by Penguin Classics as a paperback so it's also cheap compared to the huge coffeetable cookbooks of today.
Before my French provincial mother passed away, I forgot to ask her to pass on the recipe for a particularly delicious chocolate cake that she would sometimes make. I thought this cake was lost for all eternity until I stumbled upon it in this book.
One of the few cookbooks that contains recipes for dishes that aren't particularly great, but allow you to dispose of glut fruits and vegetables. Invaluable if you get a veg box delivered!
Worth reading as literature even if you aren't planning a meal.
If you care about food, hunger for authenticity and context, and you're not afraid of a little ambiguity, you owe it to yourself to read Elizabeth David's Italian Food and French Provincal Cooking. Elizabeth David's books, along with Richard Olney's Simple French Food, were the inspirations behind Chez Panisse and indirectly helped to spark America's interest in what it puts in its mouth.
Elizabeth David is credited with revolutionizing the way England cooked and ate, championing simple food made with fresh ingredients and lovingly prepared. In French Provincial Cooking, she takes her readers through a culinary tour of the provinces of France, presenting both the history of and recipes for some of France's most famous dishes.
Excellent cookbook. My favorite kind, with no pictures except a few line drawings. Good receipes, cooking techniques (both specific to said recepies and general), and food theory. The only useless (to me) parts were a lot of commentary on the post-war availability of various ingredients in France and England - which is probably not accurate in 2012.