45 Books Like Catalan Cuisine

After President Nasser expelled her family along with most of Egypt's Jewish population in the 1950s, young Claudia Douek, art student in London, began to collect memories and family recipes from her fellow refugees.

The subtext is what it means to be a woman - young or old - obliged to create a new life in an alien land. I once asked Claudia why it is that so many cookery writers are of Jewish descent (as am I): "Simple. We need to remember who we are." 

A stylish writer with an artist's eye who's also a serious historian, Middle Eastern is the book I treasure not only for culinary inspiration (authenticity guaranteed), but for the accuracy and accessibility of her beautiful prose. 

When Maria Lourdes, a popular tv chef, invited her audience to send in their household recipes, the response - at a time of political turmoil after the death of Portugal's dictator, Salazar, in 1968 - was overwhelming.

A fragile democracy and proposed membership of the European Union led to fears that the nation would lose its identity. Portugal's geography has led to historical isolation from her neighbours: on the one hand, a stormy Atlantic coastline, on the other a barren, mountainous interior. 

Portuguese housewives have always known how to make the best of what was available: out of some 8,000 contributions, half were for a left-over bread-dish, açorda, never found in restaurants. As a sea-going nation with strong culinary ties to her former colony, Brazil, Portuguese cuisine is surprisingly exotic.

A first-person account of the culinary habit of rural Britain gathered in the aftermath of WW1, Ms. Hartley set out to collect rural recipes at time when the countryside had been emptied of their young men, leaving young women without hope of a husband. 

Resourceful and independent, Dorothy travelled the length and breadth of her native land, sleeping under hedgerows, huddling round peat-fires, always with pen-and-ink and paper in hand, notebook at the ready. The finished manuscript complete with evocative illustrations didn't see the light of day until ten years after the end of WW2.

I well remember post-war rationing and terrible school catering in the 1950s, source of the nation's reputation for inedible food. Ms. Harley's recipes prove the reverse (particularly the baking). 

Ada Boni's culinary bible, Il talismano della felicità, first saw the light of day in 1928, six years after Benito Mussolini had succeeded in uniting Italy's quarrelsome regions under the banner of fascism.

Specifically targeted at the nation's housewives - ordinary folk on whose support El Duce rose to power in 1922 - this collection of nearly a thousand simple, practical traditional recipes for regional dishes became the dictator's favourite cookbook, as it did for generations of Italian women (still does). 

I first came across it on an Italian friend's recommendation while researching European Peasant Cookery and attempting to unravel the complicated traditions of a land that remains as fiercely partisan in the kitchen now as then. 

Death in Spring is a tiny book containing a bigger, more intricate world than many a doorstopper, for all that the whole story set in a small, nameless hamlet.

Life there too is made of strange, violent rituals, only not the ones we know. We follow a boy growing up and learning them, and being scarred by these mysteries—what do they fill the mouths of the dead with, before they are killed and put into a tree forever? (It’s cement.)

Rodoreda wrote in Catalan, and Tennent’s translation is fluid and beautiful.

Perfection is a rare thing; if you want to see what that looks like, here you go.   

Most books on cookery in Spain are little more than a mish-mash cobbled-together collection of other people’s recipes. Vicky Hayward’s visit to the 18thc via this Spanish Friar’s collection of recipes is an astonishing work of anthropology whose modernity and relevance to Spanish cooking today is extraordinarily prophetic.  If you want to see the future of Spanish cooking – the world’s most celebrated cuisine – go back to the past. To its roots.

Tormented Voices often brings me close to tears. Although based on records from 800 years ago, it feels very immediate in its account of the lordly oppression that often blighted peasants’ lives.

The records detail villagers’ complaints against knights who had violently forced them to hand over grain, money, or animals. The villagers say that heads were broken, a woman’s nose cut off, houses made uninhabitable, and so on. The villagers employed scribes to write out these complaints to send to their Count-King in Barcelona, but we don’t know if he even replied, let alone if anything was ever done.

By restoring the peasants’ voices, the book does what it can to right the wrongs done to them so long ago. 

Written well after the event, this is a memoir of Orwell’s experiences right in the thick of the Spanish Civil War. What I liked most was the way I got a fulsome, heads-down immersion into the action. Orwell describes with harrowing detail the skirmishes across hostile territory, the injuries of battle, and the comradery, as well as the suffering where food was in short supply and guns did not always fire.

It is only at the end of the book that I had a chance to see all this activity in context, with fifty-three pages of appendices to explain the various factions involved. But you could skip that if you wanted in order to enjoy a record of on-the-ground reporting of the complex conflict that was the Spanish Civil war. 

As someone who has traveled widely in Mediterranean countries, I love Patience Gray’s infectious enthusiasm for the extraordinary wild bounty of the region’s fields, forests, and shorelines. Moving from one small home to another with her sculptor husband across borders, she learns the landscapes and how to forage for the next meal.

She offers identification tips and ways to adapt traditional cooking methods to more contemporary contexts, and she immerses us in the rich history plants carry in their names, common and specific. She noted their use as medicinals and purposes for dyes and fiber. I was enchanted by the drawings, the folklore (Carrara saying: Who wants to eat a good supper should eat a weed of every kind), and the window she opens wide to a beautiful green world.

I love to read books about women travelers whose lives take an unusual path. Lucia Graves is the daughter of poet Robert Graves and his second wife. Her parents moved to Majorca after World War II, and their daughter—like many ex-pats—had to bridge the cultures between the land of her birth, England, and the land of her heart, Spain.

She was raised in a Bohemian household but educated in the strict Catholic schools of Franco’s Spain. Her book A Woman Unknown explores the sense of dislocation and disorientation of her bifurcated life. “I found myself creating an imaginary land where I spent much of my time.”