Recipe for Disaster? Restaurant-Branded Cookbooks
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If you are anything like me, cookbooks tend to serve appearances rather than appetites. They sit on my shelf with clean, white pages free from the splatters and residues of chaos, which are characteristic of cookbooks which are put into practice in the kitchen. But refrain from the assumption I never skim through these fictions of flavours, folding the corners of recipes I like and taking in each photo of the final dish like art in a gallery. Perhaps it is a condition of my academic experiences where I am forever researching and reading, or just the condition of my being in general, who possesses an ingenious way of producing something disastrously different from the intended outcome, but I am comfortable simply tasting the words on the page and folding corners of possibility. Trial and error can only produce so many edible meals, and despite my love of food (which tends to be the eating primarily), I can never faithfully follow a recipe because I inevitably cut corners and change tactics to accommodate my often-sparse shelves and generic spice range as someone who is on a student budget with a tendency to always involve garlic in my affairs (purée form, too, I’m afraid).
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I call my cookbooks “fictions of flavour” for two reasons. The first being they are, in my view, creative pieces of work equal to novels with creativity found in the combination of ingredients rather than words, and the other, that they rarely exist off the page on a plate - just as books exist in our imaginations - and never stumble into reality. Times when I have followed a recipe have always proved problematic, and maybe it is my experiences as a student who is committed to analysing the English language for its hidden meanings, because I find the misleading simplicity of the step-by-step formula is undercut by the tentative and generic instructions. Phrases such as, “your mixture might resemble”, “place in the oven anywhere between…”, “add a generous splash”, are some of the examples where I find vast room for differing interpretations and possible mistakes. I can never live down my failed attempt at baking a cake for my partner’s birthday during lockdown, the seemingly easy box-cake recipe fooling me more than poetry and causing me to panic purchase two madeira loaves to sandwich together. The fireworks display of candles distracted from the landslide of jam and cream. But perhaps, moving forward, I should stick to savoury recipes.
Keeping in mind both those who browse cookbooks for their aesthetic and narrative value, and those who use it as a practical tool in the kitchen, it seems that cookbooks published by restaurants would more or less satisfy both parties until the old normal returns. After the announcement of a charity cookbook entitled Chefs at Home in support of Hospitality Action after this tough year, I personally began to rethink my approach to cookbooks and started to look for the kinds published by chefs and restaurants.
During lockdowns, I have found myself becoming trapped by the monotony of my meals. I always find myself preparing the same dishes week after week, from a chicken stir fry, sausage casserole, spag-bol, and a curry of each colour of the rainbow. In desperate hours when my sparse shelves were even more sparse, my head would be in the freezer as opposed to my university books scrambling for anything to accompany microwaveable mashed potato.
This only makes me miss the restaurant experience more, wherein I could substitute these multiple decisions for just one, what I would be ordering for my main course (no potato decisions necessary). But all the ambition and drive required to begin a recipe is stalled by that missing ingredient, the utensil you cannot find in all the draws, an improper sized dish, and an obscure spice which would be bought once and never used again until it is mistaken for cinnamon in the early hours of the morning (I would not recommend a Chinese Five Spice infused porridge to start your day). Yet, the changing circumstances incited by lockdown, forced the majority of the hospitality sector to close, meaning our “dining out” experiences for many of us have been split between takeaways and M&S romantic ready meals.
In the meantime, however, recipe books centred around restaurants would seem to be a release from the repetition of my dinners as well as keeping me satisfied until this moment where I can dine out once again. But while I am intrigued by the concept of these kinds of cookbooks, the question of whether these books are of any benefit to the restaurants themselves remains to be discussed. In opening a dialogue between the dishes and the diners in the form of recipes and divulged secret ingredients, it appears these books could both provide an added income and ensure the return of customers after a difficult year. In a lockdown where many have experimented in the kitchen to pass the time and greatly missed the social occasion of dining out, there could be a renewed interest in cookbooks - especially those written by restaurants.
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Many restaurants have already undertaken this publishing process, “top ten” lists featuring on review magazines detailing the best to buy during lockdown. Examples include Dishoom: From Bombay with Love from the growing Dishoom chain which includes “no compromises in authenticity” meaning “sometimes tricky-to-get-hold-of ingredients and complicated techniques or long, slow cooking”, Gloria which is an Italian restaurant chain with step-by-step dishes from classics to desserts, and even The Ritz from the famous London restaurant which includes “all the pomp and majesty of the fine-dining restaurant’s menu.” In many ways, there appears to be greater variety when it comes to restaurant inspired cookbooks, it is more than the face of one chef but the personality and heritage of a cuisine and business. While there is scope to argue these recipes may be more technical, for some (those like me) we are happy to still read these books as a story detailing the journey of passion to plate and the array of skills and techniques oblivious to diners. There needs to be a degree of skill and technicality to respect restaurants for what they do, and it is this which keeps diners returning rather than chefs of their own Ritz kitchens.
Nevertheless, while these books may be creatively satisfying for both restaurants and readers, the question of whether publishing a cookbook is financially sensible is another aspect. There seems to be an emerging theme suggesting cookbooks are a gamble for restaurants, the secret ingredient to success being luck. Especially after the financial difficulties faced by restaurants, the likes of Gordon Ramsay claiming his restaurants have lost $80million, it is imperative to earn money from any additional venture they pursue. While there seems to be no risk in terms of returning customers from the publishing of these cookbooks, there remains an indisputable financial risk.
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In an article by The New York Times, it is believed the “cookbook business is not struggling” with sales growing by 24 percent in 2018 compared to 6 percent in 2016. But this is the outcome of a long financial and creative process, often requiring advances from the restaurants and chefs themselves before publishers consider offering assistance. Thus, is it only a worthwhile investment if you are a small chain with the desired combination of a unique menu and sufficient funds? Just how many restaurants, small chains included, will be in this position after the pandemic?
It is only after financially committing, and losing in some circumstances, that money can be generated after publication. When talking to The Huffington Post, Karlene Karst, author of The Kitchen is for Dancing, said “the financial rewards come from other doors and ventures that have been made possible from being an author and an ‘expert’ in a particular area. Usually a book is a means to something else, and in my experience it will open up other fruitful doors.” In terms of money, cookbooks do not seem like a short-term solution to the long-term impacts of pandemic closures, but creatively they offer a short-term solution to chefs and restaurateurs to pass the time and interact with their diners once again. Thus, while it is difficult to say with certainty whether cookbooks are worth the risk, what can be said with certainty is we should purchase these books when in the market for a new recipe book. Not only is it the purchasing of another fiction of flavour to fold corners from, but it is helping someone else’s kitchen as well as decorating your own.
The reality of the matter is recipe books cannot rescue restaurants alone after a difficult year, but they can provide a small additional revenue in the long-term to assist the long-term implications of lockdown closures. However, it requires the combination of money and faithful customers to produce this intended outcome.
While I return to my favourite restaurants now restrictions are easing, I will still continue to dabble with my cookbooks, flicking through the pages of those listed in the top ten lists and found in my local bookshops, hopefully creating dishes rather than disasters.
Emily Coleman
Emily is a Masters student, studying English Literature at the University of Exeter, whilst working part-time in the hospitality sector. She loves writing about all things cuisine - examples of this can be found on her website @ www.emilyacoleman.com.