Top summer reads for food and drink lovers

Hyper Drinks by Angelos Bafas

£28, Ungarnished

In an age of social media-driven cocktail trends and the resulting global homogeneity in drink styles, Hyper Drinks by London bartender Angelos Bafas is a breath of fresh air. The part-manifesto, part-recipe book stands out as a definitive work that passionately champions British produce – homemade strawberry bitter aperitif? Delightful – and highlights the salience of locality and freshness in order to develop cocktails with a sense of place. It’s a core philosophy reflected at the London bar he runs, Nipperkin, where many of the featured recipes originate.

The meticulously crafted volume, edited by award-winning drinks writer and author Millie Miliken, charts Bafas’s evolution from growing up in Greece where, unbeknownst to him at the time, his appreciation for his regional produce began, to his arrival in London in 2019 where he refined his understanding of flavour and quickly developed his unique cocktail style.

With over 75 detailed recipes, Hyper Drinks showcases an impressive range of cocktails and seasonal components for readers to embrace; in fact, I even used his elderflower cordial template to make my own at home with foraged elderflowers – superb. His Super Raspberry Liqueur, which conjured childhood memories for Bafas of foraging raspberries in the mountains of northern Greece with his parents, is a simple three-part recipe that reinforces the value of one of Bafas’s favourite ingredients: time. Other seasonal serves, like the Elderflower Bee’s Knees, highlight multiple foraged elderflower preparations, encouraging readers to abandon the supermarket for the forest in search of one of spring’s most aromatic plants (not only is the book a figurative breath of fresh air, it also requires some literal fresh air to safely source some ingredients). Each recipe underscores the possibilities inherent in utilising native botanicals and seasonal bounty.

Overall, what really differentiates this book is its emphasis on classical and analogue techniques, such as maceration to elevate local ingredients and preserve the season’s bounty, without relying on advanced culinary equipment typically found in modern-day cocktail bars. Bafas demonstrates that exceptional cocktails arise from respect for natural cycles and resourcefulness, and a deep understanding of the optimal ways to extract flavour from fleeting foods, rather than exoticism or complexity for the sake of it.

Whether you are a cocktail-obsessed bartender or a nature-loving cocktail enthusiast, Hyper Drinks is an essential resource. It sets a new standard for the use of provenance and seasonality to create distinctive cocktails; and if you aren’t sold yet, just try the drinks he and his team serve at Nipperkin in London – you’ll have ordered this book before you get the bill. Tyler Zielinksi

The Cynic’s Guide to Wine by Sunny Hodge

£25, Académie du Vin Library

I first came across Sunny Hodge in 2018 when I was peddling wine from a broken suitcase at his new venture Diogenes the Dog in Elephant and Castle. I knew nothing about him at all except that he was a nice bloke rumoured to be into ‘natty’ wines. This was a time when a war was raging over natural wines (one that continues today).

Hodge did not appear to be a member of the militant natural-wine mafia at all; softly spoken, well groomed, elegant and beautifully polite, he was incredibly kind to my chaotically crap salesperson self. He had an amazingly open mind and was willing to try any wine I proffered, provided it proved as enigmatic as he is. I thought he was a tad eccentric.

Natural wine was introduced to the London wine scene by a motley group of characters collectively known as Les Caves de Pyrene, which opened London’s first natural wine bar – Terroirs – near Charing Cross in 2008. They became infamous for a lack of pretension, yet natural wine came to be considered the very definition of pretentiousness. Hodge is not a militant natural purist at all and his writing reflects this – he is something very different but I didn’t understand how different until I read this book. The Cynic’s Guide to Wine is not about natural wine, nor is it trend- or personality-driven. This book hits a relatively new target in the wine world: logic.

Hodge has an academic mind, an engineering degree and his cynicism serves him well in his quest for truth. His cogent writings reflect a personal quest to decode wine and explain the science far more invitingly than I have ever seen done before. My only irritation is his use of the word ‘demystify’, a word I find hackneyed, much like ‘geek’ and the phrase ‘deep dive’, which makes me feel ill.

Hodge has worked in senior hospitality roles in Michelin-starred restaurants, making his way up from the very bottom and far from being an esoterica-obsessed rube, he constructs a brilliantly practical philosophy that completely bypasses wine bullshit: try wines with no pedigree whatsoever.

In removing all familiarity from his lists, he subverts ‘ego, pretension and assumption’, his focus on low intervention wines (not ‘natty piss’, a cynical descriptor of unstable wine without sulphites) and unusual bottles from unsung regions allows for wine without dogma to rule. His writing is dogma-free too and I highly recommend it. Lisse Garnett

The Curious Bartender’s Agave Safari by Tristan Stephenson

£25, Ryland Peters & Small

Tristan Stephenson’s latest instalment in his acclaimed ‘Curious Bartender’ series sees the author, podcaster and bartender add agave to his writing on whisky, rum, gin, coffee and other drinks. The Curious Bartender’s Agave Safari is a captivating exploration not just of Mexico’s agave spirits but of their history, heritage and the characters behind them, showcasing a series of biographies of the people and the places behind Tequila, mezcal and the more unusual, rarely found raicilla.

Part travelogue, part reference book, Stephenson embarks on a journey through six Mexican states, delving deep into the heartlands of agave spirits production. His narrative is engaging and the information included seemingly endless, weaving together evocative descriptions of the local landscapes, cultural traditions, and the distillation and consumption of locally made distillates.

Beautifully illustrated, with photos by celebrated drinks photographer Addie Chinn who joined Stephenson to document this romp across Mexico, the Agave Safari treats readers not only to the histories and philosophies of various agave producers but also to a curated selection of cocktails. There are perfected versions of the Margarita and Paloma, as well as more obscure creations such as the Distrito Federal (a Mexican take on the Manhattan).

The Curious Bartender’s Agave Safari offers a comprehensive and engaging look into one of the world’s most exciting spirit categories, which is often misunderstood and misrepresented, redressing the balance with this year’s definitive guide to Mexico’s national spirits. Joel Harrison

The Heart-Shaped Tin: Love, Loss and Kitchen Objects by Bee Wilson

£18.99, Fourth Estate

Bee Wilson, a multi-award-winning food writer, is also a respected academic but this highly personal book, charting the importance of familiar household objects and the memories they hold is prompted by the grief she suffered after the end of her marriage and death of her mother.

The heart-shaped tin is the dish in which she baked her wedding cake, ‘a clanging metal symbol of rejection’. There are many other mementos, hers and others: her friend Subha’s battered rice pan she brought from Kolkata 40 years ago; the vegetable corer that enabled a Syrian refugee to recreate the stuffed vegetables of his homeland; the hand-shaped tongs that were nicknamed ‘Happy Hands’.

All of us can relate to at least some of the objects. In my own case, the rotary whisk which, like Wilson, I hadn’t thought about for years. Not much cooking went on in our house but I was allowed to whip the cream. Then there are the much-loved vintage plates that my late husband had collected, sitting safely but hidden away in a cupboard. As her friend, cookery writer Roopa Gulati, suggests, rather than keeping them for best I might as well enjoy them ‘because now might be the best and only time’. I suspect the book will trigger memories for you too.

Some of the items are quite bizarre. Baby food scissors, for example. Who knew baby food scissors were a thing? I found it interesting that in general the book features more recollections and stories from women than men – you could argue due to the domestic nature of the subject matter but more likely, I suspect, because women attach greater significance to gifts and inherited objects.

The life-affirming epilogue to the book, which takes the form of an open letter to her mother, is that Wilson bakes in the heart-shaped tin again. ‘It was a relief to be able to look at [it] again without wincing’ she says. I’m so glad that she can. Fiona Beckett

Taste the Limestone, Smell the Slate by Alex Maltman

£35, Académie du Vin Library

I like Alex Maltman. I like him because he is a professor (of geology), yet he calls himself Alex, and I really like Alex Maltman because he has written a book that is the antidote to wine guff. It’s guff that I have gorged on and been a party to; fashionable guff that is the mainstay of much wine analysis.

In this book, Alex delivers the facts about the link between vineyard geology and wine flavour, the cold hard truths that are somehow bypassed by all of us who draft copious tasting notes and peddle our thoughts on terroir. The truth is that we cannot really taste the bedrock in the glass, nor can we taste old vines. Our vivid proclamations of flavour do not make any geological sense whatsoever…

And yet… I know we can. Am I and countless sommeliers and pretentious wine writers just full of ourselves? Well yes but how is it that we are suffering from precisely the same delusions; have we been unknowingly taking the same hallucinogenics? Maltman does not argue against our ability to detect flavour, he simply says we cannot taste rock. I’ve seen sommeliers pinpoint a vineyard in the glass, and I have tasted graphite in Bordeaux and salty minerality in Chablis.

Maltman explains that the vine cares only about the soil, not the bedrock we cite so much. What the vine requires is water-holding capacity, an anchor and sunlight. He cites the right mix of climatic factors as fundamental to the success of a vineyard and debunks ‘charismatic myths’, a term he uses to describe the allure of rocks like limestone, tuffa and schist.

Deconstructing terroir is impossible. Microbiology tends to be ignored in favour of grandiose references to rock types. Soil does influence grape quality but attributing ‘gravelly tension’ to gravel is hogwash. Vines cannot take in geological minerals and in any case, minerals have no taste. Tasting notes are metaphors for something discernible but impossible to logically define. Vines are made from air, carbon, hydrogen and oxygen – that may not sound as sexy as some of the industry’s favourite allusions but Maltman is interested in evidence over anything else. LG

Sunny Days, Taco Nights by Enrique Olvera

£29.95, Phaidon

Hooked by the title alone (who doesn’t love a taco?), this is chef Enrique Olvera’s deep dive into the world of tacos, with a bit of history, loads of recipes and a lot of love for the ultimate fast food. Arguably Mexico’s most famous chef and owner of Mexico City’s hugely influential Pujol restaurant, which celebrates its 25^th anniversary this year, Olvera shares his thoughts on this most democratic of foods, which he declares ‘the greatest of equalisers’.

Sold on food stands, from food trucks and in restaurants from Korea to Los Angeles, the taco has attracted some big-name-chef attention, from Denmark’s Rene Redzepi to Chicago’s Rick Bayless. And El Califa de León, a taquería in Mexico City, even won a Michelin star.

Essentially Olvera’s love letter to the taco – ‘it’s a way of life’, Olvera declares in the introduction – the book offers 100 taco recipes and is split into two main sections. ‘Classics’ features key Mexican street tacos, while ‘Originals’ is his innovative take on a taco (Brussels sprouts taco with spicy peanut butter, anyone?), with the final chapter focusing on tortilla and salsa recipes.

Particularly fascinating is the explanation of the different styles, from Baja-style fish tacos, with its lightly battered, deep fried fillings, to Yucatan-style, with pork marinated in orange and slow-roasted, the lot all mouth-wateringly photographed. And yes, Olvera sells tacos too, at his Mexico City affordable alternative, Molino El Pujol.

Whatever your taco preference, you’ll find it right here. And if the book doesn’t encourage you to instigate a regular taco night (or send you running to the nearest taco truck), you’re a stronger person than me. As the man himself says, ‘it’s always taco hour’. Fiona Sims

Sama Sama by Julie Lin

£28, Ebury Press

I often think there is no better book than the first one into which a new author pours all the thoughts, ideas and stories they’ve ever wanted to share. Certainly, Julie Lin will be hard pushed to write a better one than Sama Sama, a collection of recipes – aptly described in the streamline as ‘comfort food’ – that pay tribute to her Malaysian/Scottish roots. Frequently in the same recipe.

Each is introduced by an engaging story as to how it came about. The hugely tasty chilli crisp puttanesca (which I’ve made very successfully at home) that resulted from a fridge-and-store-cupboard raid when she didn’t feel like venturing out on a cold winter’s night, and the grilled lemongrass chicken thighs – the recipe her parents used to let her make in their family kitchen then deliver to her street food stall – to name just two.

There’s plenty for solo diners (my pet peeve is that cookbooks religiously stick to the idea that we always cook for four) and some very useful general tips, not least the section on substitutes for what might, for some, be hard-to-find ingredients. Regular basil plus aniseed for Thai basil, white wine vinegar plus sugar for rice vinegar. There’s also a handy flavour map that highlights interchangeable ingredients you can use to achieve particular tastes. What is described in Malaysian as ‘agak-agak’, as Julie puts it ‘seasoning until you feel it tastes right’.

‘Sama Sama’ apparently means ‘you’re welcome’. Thanks, Julie – that’s how you made me feel. FB

The Wines of Lebanon: The Journey Continues by Michael Karam

£70, Académie du Vin Library

Lebanon is a tiny mountainous country the size of Yorkshire that borders the Mediterranean on one side and Syria on the other. Ancient civilisation flowered here in the fertile crescent of the Levant where grapes flourish. The Phoenicians founded their trading empire in this region, sating the ancient cradles of civilisation with knowledge, culture, language and wine.

The coastal city of Byblos was the epicentre of Egyptian papyrus trade and where the Phoenicians first recorded their alphabet, the ancestor of Greek, Latin and English. It is therefore fitting that this sumptuous volume [a follow up to his book Wines of Lebanon published in 2005] should have been written by Michael Karam, a man with a Lebanese father, an Egyptian mother and born here in England.

The Lebanese are massive Francophiles: French is spoken everywhere, and the two countries have a lengthy history of economic, cultural and political fraternity. This love has played a major part in wine styles over the years, but producers today increasingly value indigenous varieties and are moving in their own maverick direction.

Karam is a great champion of Lebanon’s white indigenous grapes Merwah and Obaideh, as well as varieties that were originally planted and nurtured by Jesuits; old vine Cinsault, Carignan and Grenache. The gigantic success of Château Musar, a blend of Cinsault, Carignan and Grenache validates his thinking. Less extraction, less oak and leaner, fresher styles are increasingly prevalent, and whites are particularly exciting.

This book is a pertinent read, which naturally interweaves Lebanon’s wine story with the geopolitical landscape. Reading it engenders a greater understanding of contemporary political tensions, in an unusually enjoyable way. Intriguing historical photographs and wine-related images by the war photographer Norbert Schiller make this work vivid and powerful. I found welcome perspective and hope, the juxtaposition of time over human folly conveyed in a beguiling beautifully format – soothing mead for a thirsty soul. LG

Food You Want to Eat by Thomas Straker

£20, Bloomsbury

There was a time you couldn’t go on social media without seeing Thomas Straker sensuously shaping lozenges of whipped butter on his feed. Hashtag #allthingsbutter. It resulted in a multimillion Instagram and TikTok following, a product line, a restaurant and now this lavishly illustrated book, which includes butter, obviously, but also a hitlist of the kind of food you imagine every Zoomer/Gen Z-er would like to make at home. Chilli cheese smash burger, whole lobster with burnt chilli butter, chicken caesar, mussels with n’duja and lemon – it’s all mouthwatering stuff.

There are more elaborate recipes that would take time, such as the beef short rib ravioli, oxtail pie with smoked cheddar and jam doughnuts, but on the whole the recipes are short, do-able and refreshingly uncheffy, the author’s view being that ‘the best dishes are those where you do as little as possible to the ingredients you’re serving and let them sing’.

Although Straker, who appears in a lot of the shots, is a bit of a poster boy, and the photography, by Issy Croker, enticingly lush. my feeling is that a book that assumes readers have a pizza oven is primarily designed for well-heeled guys of Straker’s age or younger who want to show off their cooking skills. (The crab flatbread by the way, looks dreamy.) Buy a copy for your best friend or 20-something-year-old son… though on second thoughts maybe not: they might ask you for a pizza oven to go with it. FB

The Spanish Pantry by José Pizarro

£28, Quadrille

Everybody’s favourite Spanish chef, José Pizarro, has lived in London for more than 25 years and now runs seven restaurants, mostly in and around the capital, including three on Bermondsey Street. The Spanish Pantry is Pizarro’s seventh cookbook and it’s a cracker of a concept: 12 ingredients, 100 simple recipes.

Anyone familiar with Pizarro’s food knows his shtick: minimum fuss, maximum flavour, and the recipes in the book follow a similar format, with a mix of modern and classic dishes, this time based around the 12 key building blocks of Spanish flavours, from onions and tomatoes to chickpeas and rice. ‘They are the foundations of countless traditional recipes, leading us through the rich, diverse and delicious landscape of Spanish cooking,’ he explains in the introduction.

Instantly evoking scents from his mother’s kitchen in the pretty village of Talaván in Cáceres, Extremadura, where Pizarro grew up, he introduces us to each of his hero ingredients, from peppers that are ‘transformed into sweet, smoky perfection’,  and saffron ‘our golden treasure’, to sheep’s milk cheese Manchego, which he declares ‘Spain on a plate’. Jamón, too, is rewarded with its own chapter, ‘with its deep nuttiness and tender, melt-in-the-mouth texture, it represents the pinnacle of Spanish craftsmanship’.

The history of each ingredient is touched upon, too, as is Pizarro’s passion for wine as many of the recipes come with a suggested wine match. My personal favourite? Green peppers stuffed with slow-cooked star-anise-scented pork ragu (his twist on traditional stuffed piquillo peppers), paired with a glass of Bobal from Valencia. ‘Its richness will beautifully complement the bold flavours of this dish,’ enthuses Pizarro. It did, too. FS