Many of the reviews posted here bemoan the fact that the recipes in this volume are not "simple" enough... they require careful selection of raw materials, attention to detail, heightened sensibility, occasionally some difficult technique. But the reference to "simple" in the title is not, as some might assume, a sort of promise that "Anyone Can Cook." It is, instead, an affirmation of Olney's approach -- a relatively short list of ingredients, a few central flavors and textures and not a lot of fuss for the sake of fuss. No complexity for its own sake, and no piling on of flavors and "stuff" to make it big or showy or "ethnic" or whatever.
His approach is definitely not for the beginner who cannot boil water or doesn't know veal from stewing beef. It isn't for those who are looking for "20 minute meals to impress your friends" or how to make chef so and so's signature dish. Indeed, while there are recipes, much of the book consists of mere suggestions. Look, for example, at Olney's chapter on salads. He begins with some general ideas about dressings -- how to select a good quality oil, what sort of vinaigrette you might want to make to dress greens and what sort to accompany cold meats, when you might want to consider adding strong mustard and when you might think of something else. Then he describes crudites - no recipe, just a few paragraphs of ideas and things you might consider when you shop and when you begin to put together a platter. Ditto the entry on asparagus -- how to pick the most flavorful, how to peel and steam and cool; and then he will counsel to "eat it cold, toss it in butter, throw it into a salad or an omelet, cover it with bechamel and buttered breadcrumbs and gratinee it, puree the stems and mix with the tips into a souffle batter..." The entry ends with that ellipsis, I didn't add it. That's the way Olney does things. And the book goes on like this, interspersed with a recipe here and some general observations and advice and ideas there.
Every one of the recipes cries out for experimentation, modification, customization to match what's in the market, how much "technique" you are willing or unwilling to bring to bear to complete the dish. Many a "recipe" is really just a formula or "modele" -- some are even called simply "impromptu," to let you know this is one day's improvised performance but tomorrow's could and probably should be a variation on the theme. It's jazz in the kitchen.
I've had this book since I bought my first paperback copy, copyright 1977. It's covered with sauce, oil, butter, wine, stock. I have a hardback first edition that sits in a place of honor -- the paperback remains the working tool and it can get as sloppy as it wanna be. And it is from this falling from the bone paperback book, along with the Joy of Cooking and the two volumes of "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," that I went from a kid who didn't know that bread was something you could make at home with some flour, water, yeast, oil and salt, or that asparagus does not grow in cans, to a young adult confident enough to improvise and good enough to do so with success.
To use the book to greatest advantage, look at one of Olney's "you could do it this way, or you could do it that way, or you could do it this way and that way" recipes, like the "Saute-Type" formula (you really cannot call it a "recipe") in the Meats and Poultry chapter. You will begin reading Olney's meditation on "Stews (ragouts, daubes, sautes...)." That will get your juices flowing. Then thumb through the "Saute-modele for 4," which will give you a nearly infinite variety of options for the dish you will compose with Olney's guidance. He isn't giving you a recipe, he is helping you make your own "recipe," which you will then repeat, with this modification and that, for the rest of your life. He will tell you what you ought to do should you choose to use lardons in your daube, how to prepare and add various vegetables to add flavor and how to separately prepare vegetables to garnish the final dish, how you might want to use stock or wine or water as a moistening agent and eventual base for a sauce. You could start with veal, or lamb, or beef, or chicken, or rabbit -- and you just take off your training wheels, get up on your bike and go from there. If you fall, it won't hurt too much. You can try again.
I recall my first experience with this "saute-modele." I found a fresh local rabbit, cut up for braising. Carefully browned it in olive oil and butter, deglazed with wine, gently braised with homemade stock and a mirepoix, added a fresh bouquet garni, some garlic, some this and that and then, as Olney suggests, prepped and butter braised each of the vegetables I would use as a garnish for the final presentation, then strained and reduced the braising liquid, thickened with beurre manie, and assembled all on a large oval platter, ringed with triangles of fresh bread sauteed in foaming butter, the glistening crisp tips of the triangles dipped in finely chopped fresh herbs to make a crown all around, the sauce napped over all. It took a couple of hours or more, this is true, but the whole process was like going on vacation, with breaks to study for exams; and the eating, with a couple of bottles of excellent cru beaujolais and two couples at the table, was like landing in a very good bistro in Burgundy. Every time I have made this dish since then, it has been new, different, easier, never dull. Sometimes veal, sometimes rabbit, sometimes chicken, whatever.
Then there are some simple, elegant, "country cooking" recipes -- pork chops and apples in mustard sauce; fish filets with zucchini; fresh fig and mint salad. Every one of them requiring attention to detail for success, every one of them calling for just a few ingredients carefully chosen for freshness and flavor and amenable to improvisation.
Finally, some demanding terrines and charcuterie, or at least I've always thought they are demanding. Others may not.
So there you have it. Nothing is fussy, everything is "simple," but not undemanding. If you take some time, give it some thought, pay a lot of attention, this book will teach you to teach yourself to select and combine ingredients, to do your mise en place and prepare your meal, to take pleasure in a simple meal well conceived and executed, in a leisurely way, and paired with complementary wines.
Now I ask, what more could anyone ask for in a "cookbook?" No, it ain't a TV show knockoff. It won't tease you with glossy color photos of spreads prepped and lighted by a "food stylist" and a fashion photographer. There's no perky Rachel Ray on the cover or cutesy "yums" involved. But I promise you, slow down and listen to this book, work with it, and you will learn to cook and you will take pleasure in cooking and eating for the rest of your life.
That's what I call a great food classic. Olney wrote and edited a number of other books. Some are very good, but none of them comes close to this one. Five stars ain't enough.
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