Like many people, I read a lot during the Covid-19 lockdown, and one of the books I enjoyed most in those strange, silent months was a memoir by the novelist Michèle Roberts called Negative Capability: an account of being alone, but not lonely. In the face of what people on social media like to call (ugh) self-care, Roberts wrote of her efforts to be good to herself after a painful rejection without recourse either to self-pity or to yoga. Four years on, I still sometimes pull it from the shelf when I’m feeling embattled. Radiant and meditative, a few pages are all I need to get going again; to remind myself to pay attention to everything, and by doing so both to recognise and to give thanks for what great good fortune I have.
I was, then, pleased but not wholly surprised to learn that Roberts is shortly to publish a cookbook: a charming little paperback that smells lightly of roasted endives and anchovy butter (obviously I’m speaking metaphorically; my early copy carries the scent of fresh paper, though I predict this will change quite soon). To make a proper supper for yourself is, after all, a kind and tender thing to do if you’re under pressure – and her book contains only recipes for one person. For the absence of doubt, however, I must stress it isn’t the kind of manual that has you making lasagne, to be frozen in individual portions. The dishes included are at once more simple and more luxurious than that. Mussel salad with ravigote sauce. Rabbit with mustard. Steak with bordelaise sauce. So many micro feasts, and every one of them nourishment for body and soul.
