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We all have a classic repertoire–and mine includes that chilli I've been knocking out since university
I n the corner of my kitchen is a set of shelves， crammed with recipe books. None of these is for show. Every single one is dog-eared and sauce-stained， as if they were once collateral damage in a passata factory gas explosion.
我家厨房的一角，有一整排的书架，上面摆满各形各色的菜谱，而哪一本也不是只摆摆样子用的。每一本菜谱，都被我翻得起了卷角，还难免带着各种酱汁的污渍，仿佛它们曾经历某家番茄调味酱工厂煤气大爆炸后的酱的洗礼。
I'm sure this doesn't surprise you. After all， I am known for living my life mouth first and accordingly I can't bear to put the same damn thing in there night after night. Every evening is a quest for novelty， for invention， for the shock of the new. If it's a wild mushroom risotto one night， you can be certain nothing involving rice or fungus will go near me for months to follow. I leap gaily from Thai fusion one night， to French classicism the next； from handmade dhosas， to Peruvian staples to the sort of fermented fishy offcuts that your average Icelander would regard as a seriously good night out.
这些相信对你来说也不足为奇——咱毕竟是吃货界里的名人了嘛，一辈子就图个嘴上痛快。这也是为什么，我无法容忍，日复一日地喂自己的嘴吃同样的菜。我觉得，每一个有晚餐的夜晚，都该是一场追求，追求吃什么的新鲜感，对新吃法的追求，和对种种新意带来的吃的震撼的追求。假如我有一个晚上享用了野山菌米饭，那么一个月内你别想看到我坐在有米饭或菌类的餐桌旁。我如果这个晚餐尝尝混搭泰国菜，下一个就会迫不及待地去赴地道法国大餐的宴；今儿来点儿手工做的印度飞饼，明儿就去试试秘鲁三宝——嘿嘿，就算是那些发酵的鱼片啊什么的边角料的菜，也会让你们这些没见过南美洲的冰岛人觉得今宵太美妙。
Or not as the case may be. I really do have shelves of cookbooks. I am lucky enough to get sent them and they are often very pretty. There's page after page of glossy， red hot cooking action. But almost all the time they remain just that， a classic kind of gastro porn to be examined and fantasised over rather than acted upon.
好吧，言归正传。我确实拥有填满一整排书架的菜谱。我人品好，人们会免费给我寄这些书，而且通常包装得颇为养眼。每本菜谱书里的精装光面纸上满满印着的是一页页色味俱佳的美食攻略。只可惜，到了我手里，这攻略的色味魅力也就止于一页页纸了，我看它们，就好比凡夫俗子看重口味A片——也就得空翻翻，哥们儿是不会动真格儿的。
Meanwhile， in my real kitchen， I return night after night to my compact repertoire， my culinary missionary position. For me it's the chicken thighs roasted with lots of fennel seed， garlic and lemon juice. It's the garlic-free spag bol made to the four-hour recipe which I picked up from some bloke I met near Cardiff. It's braised peas and lettuce， whole pot-roasted cauliflower， sausages with soupy white beans， that chilli con carne， a version of which I've been knocking out since university.
纸上谈吃之余，真实生活中的我，其实日复一日地，在我那真实存在的厨房里，像个烹饪圣教士一样忠诚地重复烹煮的，是我最简单不过的几样保留菜式。这些包括：茴香籽（量要多！）大蒜加柠檬汁烤鸡腿；那道我有一回在卡迪夫附近碰上的一家伙教我的得花足四小时做的不加大蒜的番茄牛肉酱意粉；文火炖的豌豆和生菜；小火烤花菜；带汁的白豆配腊肠；还有那道如此这般做法的，让我从上大学至今，吃它千遍也不厌倦的墨西哥辣牛肉酱。 It is all of these things. In rotation. Of course， there will be some show cooking for dinner parties， a braised shoulder of lamb here， a big Thai fish soup there. But then it's back to the favourites. I imagine I'm expected to be embarrassed about this， but I'm not.
我的保留菜式就这几样了。我会轮番着煮它们吃。当然，为了应付晚餐派对，我也会来些搞效果的菜，炖羊羔子腿啊，泰式鱼片汤啊，诸如此类。不过事后，就又是这些最爱的老三篇。作为一个资深吃货，我还以为承认这点会让自己很羞愧难堪——但貌似完全没有啊。
Because it is this repetition that roots us and reminds us exactly who we are. It's especially true now， in the depths of February， when winter has become stubborn and brooding and you begin to wonder whether it will ever give way to spring. This is when we nest， and when we return to the dishes that we know will never let us down.
为什么呢？因为其实对事物包括食物有着重复性的喜爱，会让我们感到踏实而有归属感，并时时提醒我们对自己的定位。这点，在二月将尽的现在，当严冬固执地徘徊不肯离去而你开始对它什么时候才肯挪位给春姑娘感到茫然，尤其重要。因为这正是适合我们关门闭户，在家好好品尝那些我们煮它千遍也不厌倦的菜肴的时节。
A while back I received a call from the then editor of my restaurant column. Apparently I'd ordered grilled sardines in three of the four previous restaurants I'd reviewed. I made an impassioned speech about how the grilled sardine was a brilliant test of a kitchen's suppleness and subtlety； that it took real skill to grill a sardine well. This was cobblers. In truth I was simply really into grilled sardines. I liked the way the crisp skin gave way to the oily flesh beneath and the slight bitter tang of left-behind gut.
前阵子，我餐馆评论专栏的编辑专门打电话找我，问为什么我在之前连着去做点评的四家餐馆里，竟然有三家都点了同一道菜——烤沙丁鱼。对于这一疑问，我给予了激情四射的回复，包括点烤沙丁鱼这道菜如何是对餐馆厨房里储备是否充足和周全的一项绝佳测试；而能否烤好一条沙丁鱼又是如何如何考验厨师的手艺，云云。咳，那都是些屁话啦。真相是，我点这菜因为我就爱吃，烤沙丁鱼。那脆薄的皮，连着底下那层油腻腻的肉，若即若离，我爱那些烤鱼上似乎清理不掉的不明内脏物留下的，稍带苦味的那股子冲劲儿，我也爱死了。
If you have a proper appetite once is not enough. Once is never enough. You need to come back and back. Just to check. Just to be sure. You need to know you haven't lost your religion. All those jokes I make about wanting to get chin-deep in pork belly， scratchings and chorizo？ They would only really be jokes if they were in some way an exaggeration， but they aren't. There really is quite a lot of rendered pig in my life. I imagine there always will be. It's just who I am. Don't judge me.
如果你是个食欲正常的人，爱一样菜只吃一次是不够的。一定不够。你得一次次地，吃它，再吃它。看看，再看看，还爱吃不。确认，再确认。你必须像确认自己的信仰那样地，一次次确认你对这菜的食欲。记得你们都当我开着玩笑说的，说我其实就想能天天埋头苦吃五花肉，猪肉饼，西班牙大肉肠？这可真不是玩笑话，因为但凡玩笑话总得有些夸张的地方，而我当真没夸张——在我的生命里，确确实实地存在着对许许多多的猪肉制品的钟爱。而且，我坚信这份爱会经久不衰。这，就是我，我为自己代言！?
I n the corner of my kitchen is a set of shelves， crammed with recipe books. None of these is for show. Every single one is dog-eared and sauce-stained， as if they were once collateral damage in a passata factory gas explosion.
我家厨房的一角，有一整排的书架，上面摆满各形各色的菜谱，而哪一本也不是只摆摆样子用的。每一本菜谱，都被我翻得起了卷角，还难免带着各种酱汁的污渍，仿佛它们曾经历某家番茄调味酱工厂煤气大爆炸后的酱的洗礼。
I'm sure this doesn't surprise you. After all， I am known for living my life mouth first and accordingly I can't bear to put the same damn thing in there night after night. Every evening is a quest for novelty， for invention， for the shock of the new. If it's a wild mushroom risotto one night， you can be certain nothing involving rice or fungus will go near me for months to follow. I leap gaily from Thai fusion one night， to French classicism the next； from handmade dhosas， to Peruvian staples to the sort of fermented fishy offcuts that your average Icelander would regard as a seriously good night out.
这些相信对你来说也不足为奇——咱毕竟是吃货界里的名人了嘛，一辈子就图个嘴上痛快。这也是为什么，我无法容忍，日复一日地喂自己的嘴吃同样的菜。我觉得，每一个有晚餐的夜晚，都该是一场追求，追求吃什么的新鲜感，对新吃法的追求，和对种种新意带来的吃的震撼的追求。假如我有一个晚上享用了野山菌米饭，那么一个月内你别想看到我坐在有米饭或菌类的餐桌旁。我如果这个晚餐尝尝混搭泰国菜，下一个就会迫不及待地去赴地道法国大餐的宴；今儿来点儿手工做的印度飞饼，明儿就去试试秘鲁三宝——嘿嘿，就算是那些发酵的鱼片啊什么的边角料的菜，也会让你们这些没见过南美洲的冰岛人觉得今宵太美妙。
Or not as the case may be. I really do have shelves of cookbooks. I am lucky enough to get sent them and they are often very pretty. There's page after page of glossy， red hot cooking action. But almost all the time they remain just that， a classic kind of gastro porn to be examined and fantasised over rather than acted upon.
好吧，言归正传。我确实拥有填满一整排书架的菜谱。我人品好，人们会免费给我寄这些书，而且通常包装得颇为养眼。每本菜谱书里的精装光面纸上满满印着的是一页页色味俱佳的美食攻略。只可惜，到了我手里，这攻略的色味魅力也就止于一页页纸了，我看它们，就好比凡夫俗子看重口味A片——也就得空翻翻，哥们儿是不会动真格儿的。
Meanwhile， in my real kitchen， I return night after night to my compact repertoire， my culinary missionary position. For me it's the chicken thighs roasted with lots of fennel seed， garlic and lemon juice. It's the garlic-free spag bol made to the four-hour recipe which I picked up from some bloke I met near Cardiff. It's braised peas and lettuce， whole pot-roasted cauliflower， sausages with soupy white beans， that chilli con carne， a version of which I've been knocking out since university.
纸上谈吃之余，真实生活中的我，其实日复一日地，在我那真实存在的厨房里，像个烹饪圣教士一样忠诚地重复烹煮的，是我最简单不过的几样保留菜式。这些包括：茴香籽（量要多！）大蒜加柠檬汁烤鸡腿；那道我有一回在卡迪夫附近碰上的一家伙教我的得花足四小时做的不加大蒜的番茄牛肉酱意粉；文火炖的豌豆和生菜；小火烤花菜；带汁的白豆配腊肠；还有那道如此这般做法的，让我从上大学至今，吃它千遍也不厌倦的墨西哥辣牛肉酱。 It is all of these things. In rotation. Of course， there will be some show cooking for dinner parties， a braised shoulder of lamb here， a big Thai fish soup there. But then it's back to the favourites. I imagine I'm expected to be embarrassed about this， but I'm not.
我的保留菜式就这几样了。我会轮番着煮它们吃。当然，为了应付晚餐派对，我也会来些搞效果的菜，炖羊羔子腿啊，泰式鱼片汤啊，诸如此类。不过事后，就又是这些最爱的老三篇。作为一个资深吃货，我还以为承认这点会让自己很羞愧难堪——但貌似完全没有啊。
Because it is this repetition that roots us and reminds us exactly who we are. It's especially true now， in the depths of February， when winter has become stubborn and brooding and you begin to wonder whether it will ever give way to spring. This is when we nest， and when we return to the dishes that we know will never let us down.
为什么呢？因为其实对事物包括食物有着重复性的喜爱，会让我们感到踏实而有归属感，并时时提醒我们对自己的定位。这点，在二月将尽的现在，当严冬固执地徘徊不肯离去而你开始对它什么时候才肯挪位给春姑娘感到茫然，尤其重要。因为这正是适合我们关门闭户，在家好好品尝那些我们煮它千遍也不厌倦的菜肴的时节。
A while back I received a call from the then editor of my restaurant column. Apparently I'd ordered grilled sardines in three of the four previous restaurants I'd reviewed. I made an impassioned speech about how the grilled sardine was a brilliant test of a kitchen's suppleness and subtlety； that it took real skill to grill a sardine well. This was cobblers. In truth I was simply really into grilled sardines. I liked the way the crisp skin gave way to the oily flesh beneath and the slight bitter tang of left-behind gut.
前阵子，我餐馆评论专栏的编辑专门打电话找我，问为什么我在之前连着去做点评的四家餐馆里，竟然有三家都点了同一道菜——烤沙丁鱼。对于这一疑问，我给予了激情四射的回复，包括点烤沙丁鱼这道菜如何是对餐馆厨房里储备是否充足和周全的一项绝佳测试；而能否烤好一条沙丁鱼又是如何如何考验厨师的手艺，云云。咳，那都是些屁话啦。真相是，我点这菜因为我就爱吃，烤沙丁鱼。那脆薄的皮，连着底下那层油腻腻的肉，若即若离，我爱那些烤鱼上似乎清理不掉的不明内脏物留下的，稍带苦味的那股子冲劲儿，我也爱死了。
If you have a proper appetite once is not enough. Once is never enough. You need to come back and back. Just to check. Just to be sure. You need to know you haven't lost your religion. All those jokes I make about wanting to get chin-deep in pork belly， scratchings and chorizo？ They would only really be jokes if they were in some way an exaggeration， but they aren't. There really is quite a lot of rendered pig in my life. I imagine there always will be. It's just who I am. Don't judge me.
如果你是个食欲正常的人，爱一样菜只吃一次是不够的。一定不够。你得一次次地，吃它，再吃它。看看，再看看，还爱吃不。确认，再确认。你必须像确认自己的信仰那样地，一次次确认你对这菜的食欲。记得你们都当我开着玩笑说的，说我其实就想能天天埋头苦吃五花肉，猪肉饼，西班牙大肉肠？这可真不是玩笑话，因为但凡玩笑话总得有些夸张的地方，而我当真没夸张——在我的生命里，确确实实地存在着对许许多多的猪肉制品的钟爱。而且，我坚信这份爱会经久不衰。这，就是我，我为自己代言！?