Photo by Yuki Sugiura
I may have said this quite a few times, but I feel it bears repeating: bitterness is the most undesirable of attributes, except when it comes to food. The antiquaire Nicky Haslam once said that all rooms needed something ugly in them to keep them interesting, and that’s rather how I feel about bitterness: it’s the element than brings depth, complexity and balance to everything it partners. My 'bitter tooth' is pronounced: I love chicory, endive, radicchio, kale, liquorice, marmalade, coffee, tea, Campari — all of it. Unsurprisingly, one of the most cherished cookbooks in my unruly collection is the brilliant Jennifer McLagan’s Bitter, published in 2014 and, as far as I know, the first foray into this particular aspect in eating, and it’s the reason I gravitated greedily towards Alexina Anatole’s book of the same title now.
It is the attribute of bitterness that makes people habitually describe foods that possess it as ‘an acquired taste’, and while this is certainly a book that rewards those of us who have acquired that most enthusiastically already, it also gives a multiplicity of entry points for those who perhaps are yet to be convinced. Let me give you a few delectable examples, many of them from the sweet side of things: Duck Confit with Bitter Orange Salsa Verde; Marmalade Steamed Pudding; Individual Negroni Pavlovas; Burnt Aubergine Dip; Asparagus with Sesame Seed Dressing; No-Churn Tahini Ice Cream with Caramelised Walnuts; Stout Sticky Toffee Pudding; French Chicory; Blistered Tomatoes with Anchovy-Walnut Dressing; Ancho Coffee Short Ribs; Coffee and Biscoff No-Bake Cheesecake; Bitter Chocolate Torte with Passionfruit Sauce; Pineapple, Rum and Liquorice Upside-Down Cake. I would have been happy to share any of these (and more) with you today but, in the end, it just had to be this compelling Chicory Gratin!
Bitter by Alexina Anatole is published by Square Peg.
Photograph by Yuki Sugiura.
