Читать книгу A Long and Messy Business - Rowley Leigh - Страница 7

quite extraordinarily annoying. He will make me

do things, whether it is repeating one simple

action or holding something for a ridiculously

long time, or standing in some unnatural

position so that I do not spoil his light. It is

galling for a chef who is accustomed to having

his own way in the kitchen to have to play

second fiddle.

If this was not bad enough, Andy has bad habits.

Long after he has left the building – we always

do the photo shoots at my home – I find things.

A clutch of mussels will be basking in the sun

on a faded iron chair in the garden. Rabbit

entrails will be splayed out on the butcher’s

brown paper in the window of the sitting room.

His own expensive equipment will have been

meticulously stashed in his rucksack as he

climbed on his racing bike but his dirty plates

and half-finished mug of coffee will have been

left casually about the place. I asked his mother

about this pattern of behaviour: she just gave

a sort of knowing sigh.

And yet every week I forgive him because he

takes extraordinary pictures. One of the reasons

he is such a pain is that he will only ever use

natural light. This means a short working day

in the winter, and my having to work with no

artificial light in the kitchen. It is also why his

pictures have such a painterly quality. The

contrast is scaled down, the colour – and I rarely

cook by colour – is often slightly washed out but

there is depth. He will take hours over a shot but

you forgive him because he is in communion: he

is not taking a picture but getting to the essence

of the thing, whether it is a raw ingredient or a

finished dish.

Working with this man has its drawbacks, but

the process has given me a new lease of life.

Apart from the fact that actually cooking the

food makes the result a great deal more real,

working with this fastidious creature has raised

my game. I always cook the real thing: there

are no tricks and no shortcuts. Not only would

Andy’s camera find me out, but also we always

eat the dish afterwards – or at least Andy does.

He has, for a slim man, a considerable appetite.

This book is a selection of our work over five

years. It is arranged by month because I think

that provides a more compelling narrative. Some

dishes are starters, some ‘mains’, and some

puddings, but as often as not they are just

something to eat when you are hungry.

One last note. What matters in a cookbook is

that it, and its recipes, work. I hope that is the

case. I owe their accuracy and precision to a

number of kind and patient editors, especially

to Natalie Whittle who nursed the column from

the period we started in the magazine until

very recently. I should also thank my legion of

supporters who have waited a long time for this

volume with stoic endurance and can only hope

they are not too disappointed with the result.

However, if there is an award for patience it must

go to my wife Kate, who has been long suffering

in too many ways to detail here.

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