10 Years of 'Nose to Tail Eating'

Those who know me well know my love of cookery. Generally speaking, they also are aware of my interest in minimal techno music. What friends and acquaintances may not know is that I am quite passionate about ‘minimal’ cooking. What in the world, you say, is minimal cooking? Certainly there is an element of seasonality and sustainability in this approach to cookery, but minimal cuisine goes beyond the ‘slow food’ movement. It is an approach that, like minimal techno, focuses on key textures and combinations – flavours in this case - rarely exceeding twenty ingredients (even this is quite a long list of provisions for a ‘minimal’ recipe). Minimal cuisine can be thought of as the antithesis of overly complex fusion and molecular cuisine. This is not to deny the merits of these approaches, as culinary vanguards are always needed to keep things interesting, but to remember that good food always comes back to basics. There has been no greater advocate or chef in recent history for the merits of minimal cooking than Fergus Henderson of St. John Restaurant in London. Ten years ago, he published his first book of cookery entitled Nose to Tail Eating – A Kind of British Cooking and the culinary world was never the same. Let us take some time to look back and reflect upon the incredible impact of this compact black and white book, itself an exercise in a sort of minimalism.

To delve into Nose to Tail Eating is to experience a literary wonder that happens to include recipes in its repertoire. Austerely presented, just as the restaurant and food served inside it is, the book is neatly organised into rather efficient categories: soups, salads, starters, meat, birds and game, fish, puddings, and baking. I can think of no other chef or cookery writer who has such an elegant way with his or her prose. Oft repeated phrases include ‘let your ingredients get to know each other’ and ‘take care to be gentle with the ingredients’ giving the book an almost paternal approach to cooking that never veers to proselytising or condescension. At times there is something almost wonderfully Etonian about the whole exercise minus any hint of elitism – chopping offal to bits is not in the realm of the aristocracy. You know that Henderson wants look out for you without being overly precise or scolding. The lack of precise measurements (what is a hot oven?) is very much a reflection of this approach – who knows better than you how to work around your own kitchen?

Henderson himself, trained as an architect, has an improvisational approach to cookery. That Nose to Tail Eating is written in this manner is not accident and nor is it an impediment to the aspiring home chef. I am a great fan of chefs as varied as Marcus Samuelsson, Thomas Keller, and Heston Blumenthal, yet in perusing cookbooks by these eminent culinary masters, the text comes off as cold, technical, and unwavering. Henderson’s almost ‘DIY’ approach can only serve to ground all dishes with fundamental techniques and flavour/texture combinations allowing the reader to experiment with ingredients. It is this structural method (perhaps a result of his architectural background?) that is minimal. In this respect it is perhaps the friendliest cookbook to slow food advocates, as the seasonal possibilities are endless with such basic and beautifully austere recipes. Henderson is perhaps an eccentric Julia Child with the addition of a biting British wit and shameless appreciation for offal and fat. Nose to Tail Eating can read like a culinary edition of The Economist at times, with humorous pictures of global leaders replaced with animal appendages in awkward and ironic arrangements.

One can scarcely avoid ‘adventurous’ dishes like pork belly these days when dining at more respectable restaurants. We are all indebted to Fergus for this shift in the culinary map. Along with Alice Waters, he is, to me, a hero in the world of cookery that deserves both respect and careful consideration. With this brief ode, let us celebrate ten years of Nose to Tail Eating and its sumptuous prose that forever changed the literary landscape of cookbooks. Minimal cooking is just entering the mainstream culinary discourse and has a long way to go. So bring out your tripe, marrow, and headcheese – I’ll bring the claret – and let’s have a party. To Fergus and the enduring legacy of minimal cookery!