If you drive up to Monte Igueldo, one of the twin hills which stand over the bay of San Sebastián like guardians of its security, and then follow the road for a few kilometres, you come to a restaurant in a spectacular setting. On one side, far below, lies a valley broken up into fields and dotted with small homesteads. On the other, is the open expanse of the great Cantabrian sea. This restaurant, Akelarre (also spelt ‘Akelaŕe’), is one of the cornerstones of modern Basque cookery and Pedro Subijana, its chef-proprietor, a cheerfully down to earth man instantly recognizable by his huge moustache, is acknowledged throughout Spain as one of the most important figures in the renaissance of Basque cooking through the nueva cocina vasca, the new style of cooking.
At Akelarre, which means witches’ sabbath, tradition and modernity have gone hand in hand. In the small, but highly organized kitchen, the new and old stand together side by side. Old utensils such as earthenware casseroles, cazuelas, are used as often as a whole range of the most up-to-date cooking equipment – double bottomed stainless steel pans, steam and convection ovens, microwaves and contact operated induction ovens. Cast iron frying-pans are used less, but from time to time a miniature version is used to prepare an apple dessert or another speciality of the house. On a long shelf stand dozens of different types of vinegars – Jerez, Modena or locally made cider vinegar – used in the new style of salad dressing and sauces. Nearby, on the floor, are stacked boxes of fresh ingredients, evidence of Pedro’s daily morning shopping excursion to the market where he competes against the town’s housewives and other chefs for the best of the day: tender baby carrots, zizak in a wicker basket, a selection of farmhouse cheeses and large wooden boxes of fish.
Out in the restaurant itself every table has a spectacular view of the sea through large windows. The tables, with immaculate ivory linen tablecloths and fresh flowers, are arranged around the pentagonal shape of the building and on two levels: an outer ring and a raised inner one. In winter, a large fireplace, situated on the raised gallery, becomes the centrepiece. A great stained glass partition in Art Nouveau style separates the dining-room from the lounge where after dinner drinks are served. No detail is spared. A design of an enormous antique fruit dish piled high with dozens of different fruits, a smaller dish containing sweetmeats and next to the dish half a dozen small bottles of vinegar, is printed on the white window blinds, the menu and on the restaurant’s writing paper.
Pedro takes all the orders himself, giving his personal attention to every table. If the customer is already a friend, he will recommend the day’s speciality; if he is new to the restaurant, Pedro introduces himself first and will try to guide him through the menu. When the customers ask him what he recommends he always talks to them first for a few minutes, so that he can find out what sort of appetite they have, what mood they are in and what the occasion is – repaying somebody, a business engagement or a romantic one. ‘There are different dishes for different people and also for one and the same person on different occasions’, he explains, smiling broadly behind his moustache. ‘You meet lots of people every day and those who are not already friends soon become so. It’s such an important part of the job, both to give pleasure and to learn yourself. Your customer or friend will tell you his reaction to a particular dish. Once you have heard several people’s views you know straight away whether you are working in the right direction.’
Pedro grew up with the love of good food in his blood. San Sebastián, where he was born and has always lived, is one of the great restaurant cities: a frontier city, influenced gastronomically and in many other ways by France, and the capital of the cider houses and gastronomic societies, where a restaurant must always look to its laurels. Here the housewife is continually trying to present dishes which will pull her husband back to his own table, away from the gastronomic society or evenings out in the bars with his friends. Nearly everyone is an aspiring chef, a chef at heart or an apprentice chef.
Pedro studied at the Catering School in Madrid, under Luis Irizar, one of the fathers of present day cuisine, then worked his way through several restaurants to perfect his skills and after ten years, set up Akelarre. In 1983 he won the National Prize for Gastronomy awarded to the best chef in Spain. Despite success and fame, he is very much a working chef who lives as much in the kitchen as at home. The long working day, which means from nine in the morning through to the early hours of the following day, leaves little time for relaxation. By nine in the morning, he is on the phone placing orders and giving instructions before climbing on to his motorbike to ride into one of the markets, in the centre of town. Here he searches out the best to add to the menu that day, buying in small quantities here and there. Later, somebody will call with the Akelarre van to pick up whatever Pedro has bought: game, good vegetables, beef, excellent fish, delicious fruit from the Navarrese plain, or good farmhouse cheeses from the mountains.
Today he is shopping in San Martín market. He moves from stall to stall, talking as much as buying. Everybody wants to sell him their best produce. He spots some wonderful young garden peas, ‘I picked them myself this morning’, promises the stallkeeper ‘and I am sure that I shall have some more tomorrow, too, if you like them.’ He pays and asks her to put them on one side. Then he notices a basket of perfect Russula mushrooms. A special dish for the day begins to take shape in his mind: he can cook the little peas, wild russulas mushrooms and some magnificent lobster that were delivered the evening before. Pedro loves putting dishes together in this way. When the customers come in he tells them about the delicious things that he has found in the market. He tries to pass on his excitement and then they will try the dish.
Pedro’s most important purchases are at the fish stalls. The fish are carefully arranged so that the buyer can see their gills clearly; these should be bright red in colour and the eyes, bright and shining. Both these details indicate that the fish is fresh enough for it to be bought. At five in the morning the fishmongers meet for the auction on the quayside at the port of Pasajes and then drive straight to the market, to spend several hours preparing the fish laying it out on the slab. Sometimes the fish is too fresh and it needs to rest for several hours before cooking, otherwise neither the flavour nor the texture are at their very best. The variety is amazing, with all kinds of local rock fish and every size of hake. Pedro looks always for hake caught with a rod and line because this plays a very important role in the final quality of the fish. There is a world of difference between the hake caught by the fishing boats of Fuenterrabía or Bermeo and those which reach the market place via the dragnets of trawlers, where the fish die in the water. Pedro can judge this by the texture of the flesh.
On another stall a small basket of kokotxas, or cheeks, occupies a prime central position. This expensive ingredient described by the great Basque writer, José María Busca Isusi as ‘the fleshy parts around the gullet of the fish, that is the area between the two bony parts of the lower jaw’, began to make its appearance in gastronomic treatises only in the thirties. Since there is only one kokotxa per hake, they command very high prices. The traditional way of cooking them is in a green sauce (see page 145), but on occasions Pedro serves them simply coated in egg and flour. The only secret of this recipe lies in the freshness of the kokotxas and in frying them in really hot olive oil.
Usually Pedro is back at the restaurant by eleven in the morning with the outline for the dishes of the day shaped in his head. On his return he and his most experienced chef finally organize the new dishes. The menu, which changes seasonally, is a marvellous combination of traditional Basque cooking and the new style influenced by French nouvelle cuisine. The traditional dishes, not necessarily the simplest, constitute a third of Akelarre’s menu. This type of dish, cooked in Euskadi for a long time, is the food legacy of both the caserío, the farmstead, and the cocina marinera, the cooking of the fishing villages. There is seafood soup in the style of San Sebastián, a dish which, with small variations, may be found in most of the taverns along the coast; fish cooked on a griddle with garlic and parsley, just as you would find it in the sidrerías; plain but creamy mamia and arroz con leche as good as that from the mountain valley; cheeses from Idiazabal and Roncal to mention but a few. Beans are represented by alubias rojas de Abendano, accompanied by spicy chorizo sausage, fatty bacon, pig’s ear, pork ribs and cabbage. Traditionally these are served with a little dish of chillies in vinegar. The beans, small in size with very dark red skin, a variety grown in this area, are of excellent quality when used in the year they are grown and are called Abendano after the name of the caserío where one of the waitresses comes from. Her mother sows just one crop and sells them all throughout that year, so the quality is always high. Other dishes, like the morcilla cocida en berza con salsa de alubias, black pudding cooked with cabbage with a bean sauce, are Pedro’s own creations though based on traditional ingredients, in this case, black pudding, cabbage and beans.
Baked rice with clams in an earthenware dish, arroz con almejas, is one of the most traditional fish and shellfish dishes. It has a sensational flavour and dramatic appearance with the dark clams standing out against the bright white rice.
Another outstanding dish is hake in a sauce of kokotxas and clams, inspired by the popular hake in green sauce. The passion of Basque people for this fish, which is relatively undervalued in most countries, can only be understood when one is able to eat fish of the quality found in the markets of the Basque Country. Pedro also has a theory that the Basques have found a suitable recipe for it where others have not. This is the recipe he is referring to. There are many slight variations; sometimes peas are added or hard-boiled egg, clams or asparagus. This version, however has become particularly renowned.
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To prepare Merluza en salsa verde for six people we need 1 kg (2 lbs) of very fresh hake cut into reasonably thick slices, olive oil, 2 cloves of garlic and some finely chopped parsley. Put the oil with the sliced garlic into a traditional earthenware dish. For this sort of recipe it is very important that the oil should not get too hot and that the garlic should stew rather than fry. When the garlic has become slightly golden in colour, add the fish and sprinkle with the parsley. The cooking heat should be low. After a few minutes the hake will begin to release a little whitish liquid, at which stage you should begin to shake the dish gently so that, gradually, the sauce will thicken and the garlic and the oil emulsify after about fifteen minutes. |
In summer too, a special marmitako fisherman’s stew is available, (see p. 46). Pedro’s version includes two dried red peppers, uses less tunny and is made with fish stock rather than water.
At Christmas, when snails are traditional, he prepares caracoles sin trabajo con salsa de berros, effortless snails with watercress sauce. Effortless to eat rather than to cook, unfortunately, but delicious nonetheless. When using fresh snails, the first thing that you have to do is cure them, that is to say, wash them in plenty of water containing salt and vinegar in order to rid them of all the slime. This process will need repeating several times. Then put them into a pan of cold water and leave to cook for about one hour. Once they are done remove them from their shells and take off the soft portion which has a bitter flavour. If they still seem tough boil a little longer. This recipe should always be made with fresh snails.
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Pedro allows 10 snails per person for Caracoles sin trabajo con salsa de berros. Put a knob of butter and a few drops of oil in a saucepan. In this sauté 2 cloves of garlic. Add the snails and flambé with a little brandy and a similar quantity of sherry. Remove the thickest stalks from a small bunch of watercress and chop them finely. Add the cress to the pan, followed by 4 tablespoons of tomato sauce (see p. 113) and 2 of salsa espanola made with a brown roux, brown stock, diced belly of pork, vegetables, herbs, tomato purée and wine. Roll out two thin rounds of puff pastry, brush with beaten egg and place a whole snail shell in the centre of each. Place them in a moderate oven for about ten minutes and once they are ready cut them through horizontally and spread the snails and their sauce on the lower half. Replace the other piece of pastry with the shell on it to make a lid. |
The other strand of the menu at Akelarre has developed from the New Basque cooking – Euskal Sukaldaritza Berria – which began to take shape in the late seventies. Its fundamental precepts, raw materials of superlative quality and the strictly seasonal use of ingredients, as well as many of its techniques, such as shorter cooking times and reduced use of animal fats, are drawn directly from its older French cousin. Subijana and Juan Mari Arzak, the most flamboyant of the Basque chefs, found their new direction after hearing Paul Bocuse speak at the 1976 Gastronomic Round Table in Madrid. ‘Suddenly it became obvious,’ remembers Pedro ‘that Basque cooking possessed all the inherent elements to raise it to its proper place as one of the most interesting and original cuisines of the world. We realized that everything they were preaching regarding their cuisine was true of Basque cooking. It had been at the back of our minds for a long time, but without us really appreciating it.’ But the nueva cocina vasca is by no means simply an imitation of nouvelle cuisine. Pedro finds that the French version is much more homogenous than the Spanish, a reflection of the centralization of culture which makes itself felt as early as infant school. In Spain, where each autonomous region has kept its particularities, nueva cocina has been interpreted in very different ways. Certainly the dishes that the Basque chefs have created are, almost without exception, of Basque inspiration, their ingredients following the distinctive culinary tradition. This is hardly surprising. There are few places where chefs would think about cooking in quite the same terms of idealistic pride and ‘integrity’ as in the Basque Country. They firmly believe that cooking is part of the heritage of a nation or region and that the ritual of eating and drinking well are an essential part of Basque idiosyncrasy. They can be identified by the way they eat and cook. ‘It is only logical that we should defend the national identity, of which we are so proud, through some part of our culture’, says Pedro. ‘Over the centuries we have defended our identity against every attempt to absorb it which we have been subjected to. In any case, breaking with tradition does not mean losing your own culture. Each one of the dishes which have been added to the culinary repertoire and which today we think of as classic, was once new and a break with tradition. A good example of this is the baba-txikis soup (broad-bean), which after the discovery of America became red-bean soups or various potato stews.’
Tradition has not always been so carefully nurtured, at least not in San Sebastián, where over a century after the French Revolution international cuisine reigned supreme to the detriment of the more original, indigenous cooking. During the whole of the period, but particularly in the Belle Epoque, San Sebastián was the traditional summer holiday resort of the aristocracy. Their cooks and chefs, while spending the summer months cooking for their masters, would pass on their experience and techniques to the local people hired to help in the kitchen during the family’s stay in the north. Today, happily, the situation is reversed. The figure of the Basque chef has crossed both national and international frontiers and the specialities and characteristics of Basque cookery can be found in London, Paris and New York. In Spain itself it is unusual for a place with any pretensions to gastronomic excellence not to have one or more Basque dishes on its menu, presided over by a Basque chef, and the best restaurants in Madrid and many other provincial capitals, are Basque. Zalacain, considered to be Spain’s most prestigious restaurant, has a Navarrese chef, Benjamín Urdiaín.
The new recipes of the nueva cocina vasca, reflect this sense of regional identity. They have been evolved by chefs handling produce from the daily market, experimenting among friends while continuing to respect the preferences of their compatriots. It is striking, for example, that fish dishes still make up over three-quarters of any menu and have been the most successful of the new dishes. Here are three fine dishes which make the point. The first is Juan Mari Arzak’s recipe for a fish terrine made with cabracho, scorpion fish, called krabarroka in Basque. It was one of the great early successes of the nueva cocina.
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For a Pastel de krabarroka to feed six we need 500g (1 lb) of scorpion fish, cleaned and with the head and scales removed, 250 g (8 oz) fresh tomato sauce, 250 ml (8 oz) of single cream, 8 eggs, 1 leek, 1 carrot, a little butter, breadcrumbs, salt and white pepper. Peel the carrot and clean the leek and put them with the fish in a pan of water to simmer. When it is cooked remove the fish from the bones, flake it and set aside. Grease a mould with butter and sprinkle with breadcrumbs. In a basin beat the eggs, add the cream, the fish, salt and pepper and mix well. Pour the mixture into the mould and cook in a bain-marie in a moderate oven for just one hour. This recipe is served cold with a mayonnaise made with peanut oil and a dash of sherry vinegar. |
In the early days of Euskal Sukaldaritza Berria, since it was a complete break with tradition, Basque chefs began to add cream to some dishes which caused considerable comment. In some cases, certainly, it was used excessively, but in others it produced new classics. One of Pedro Subijana’s recipes, probably his best known, sea bass with green peppercorns, illustrates this perfectly.
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For Lubina a la pimienta verde we need for four people 4 boned sea bass steaks weighing 200 g (7 oz) each, 1 chopped shallot, 75 g (2 oz) green peppercorns, 15 g (½ oz) butter, 100 ml (3½ fl oz) of olive oil, 100 ml (3½ fl oz) of apple brandy, 200 ml (7 fl oz) of single cream. Place butter, oil and chopped shallot in a skillet and add the sea bass with the skin side up. Incorporate the peppercorns and flambé with the apple brandy. Pour over the cream and put in the oven for seven minutes. Take out the fish and reduce the sauce. Check the seasoning and pour the sauce over the fish when ready to serve. |
As a final example of traditional cooking set in a more up-to-date context, here is Benjamín Urdiaín’s recipe for sea bream with a white wine sauce. He uses a white wine with great character from Rueda, in the Duero region, so the dish reflects its character.
When the Basque chefs launched nueva cocina vasca, they also aimed to rescue traditional recipes passed on by word of mouth; they are followed accurately, with no frills. In this respect, there are far more Spanish than French Basque recipes passed down without any written versions since the southern part of Euskadi, on the Spanish side of the frontier, has always enjoyed a more lively and very distinct gastronomic tradition.
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Eltzekaria, a traditional soup from the province of Laburdi, or Labourdie, and popular on both sides of the Pyrenees, is one such recipe that the chefs have revived. For six people you need ¼ kg (8 oz) white beans, soaked overnight, a medium-sized cabbage – finely chopped, 150 g (5 oz) of finely chopped onion, 2 cloves of garlic-crushed, 80 g (3 oz) of lard, salt, pepper and 1½ litres (3 pints) of water. Melt the lard in an earthenware pot and sauté the onion until it begins to brown, then add the water, beans, cabbage and garlic. Cook slowly for two to three hours or until the beans are soft. Sometimes a few drops of cider vinegar are added before serving. |
Often, in nueva cocina, traditional recipes are interpreted rather than faithfully reproduced. It is not necessarily a question of a new version substituting the traditional one in every restaurant, but rather that different versions contribute to a more comprehensive, contemporary Basque cuisine. For example, eggs scrambled with wild mushrooms and fresh garlic might inspire a hojaldre or mille-feuilles of eggs scrambled with perretxikos mushrooms or traditional boiled cabbage may be stuffed with duck and served with a celery purée. Equally in Pedro’s kitchen a lettuce and tomato salad with a little canned tuna fish and olives becomes a salad of tomatoes from Igueldo with marinated fresh tunny fish, and twin pepper and tomato sauces. This, to my mind, is one of Pedro’s supreme recipes. It has the power to make you feel, immediately, that you are in the Basque Country.
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For Ensalada de tomate del país y bonito marinado you need for 4 people 400g (14 oz) of gutted tunny on the bone, 1 lemon, virgin olive oil, cider vinegar, 4 small tomatoes each weighing 80 to 100 g (3 to 3⅓ oz) and not too ripe, 2 very red, ripe tomatoes for the sauce and for the salad, 3 green peppers, several basil leaves and a handful of chervil leaves. First make sure the tunny is thoroughly cleaned and remove any dark patches. Cut the fish lengthwise into slices about 10 cm long and then cut very thin fillets, also 10 cm long, off these lengthwise, making them as wide as possible (usually 4–5 cm). Season with salt and pepper and put them to marinate with a little lemon rind and a few drops each of cider vinegar and olive oil. Leave in the fridge to marinate for at least five hours. Meanwhile chop the ripe tomatoes, season with salt and pepper and a few drops of lemon juice, strain and refrigerate. Do the same thing with the green peppers – though it may be necessary to add a little water to thin the consistency and then they need cooking a little since this improves its flavour. On each plate arrange a few very thin slices of tomato which have already been dressed with salt, oil and vinegar, but have been drained well. Gently pour over the tomato sauce and then the green pepper sauce, running the colour into each other. Arrange the slices of marinated tunny on top. Decorate with little basil leaves around the edges and some sprigs of chervil on top. |
In the majority of duck recipes cooked in the traditional Basque style, the duck is browned and later transferred to an earthenware pot to cook for a long time with wine and other ingredients such as onions, carrots, etc., always on the top of the stove. Pedro uses first class ducks which are tender and need very little time in the oven, and contrary to the old style of cooking in which the meat was dried and needed to be flavoured by the rest of the ingredients, Pedro’s ducks retained their own taste and the other ingredients, which in any case are also very different to ones used before, such as wine vinegar, green peppercorns, etc. just add complexity to the final result. He buys his ducks from a nearby farm where they feed them as though for their own table and this is an excellent guarantee.
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To prepare a Pato de caserío medio asado a la salsa de Cava, underdone roast farmhouse duckling in a sauce made with Cava sparkling wine, you will need 2 ducks, each weighing about 1 kg (2 lbs), 1 medium-sized onion, ½ a bulb of garlic, cut cross-wise, 100 ml (3.5 fl oz) of olive oil, 500 ml (17 fl oz) of Cava sparkling wine, 25 g (¾ oz) of sugar, a few drops of wine vinegar, a twist of orange rind and of lemon, a few green peppercorns, 100 ml (3.5 fl oz) of duck essense (juices previously reduced), 1 small glass of Cava wine. Dress and clean the ducks thoroughly, season them inside and out with salt and pepper and coat them well in olive oil. Place them on a suitable-sized baking tray and spread over the bottom of this the onion, cut into rings, and the ½ bulb of garlic. When the oven is really hot put in the ducks. It is important to keep an eye on the roasting process, basting the birds constantly with the fat which collects in the tin. They should be golden brown on the outside but almost raw in the middle. Cook for about fifteen minutes. Pour off the excess oil, pour in the Cava wine and transfer the duck to a plate or board. Cut off the breast and leg portion, cut the carcases into pieces and return to the roasting tin. Set aside the ducks’ joints on a serving dish. Add to the roasting tin the duck essence and green peppercorns and return to the hot oven. In a small saucepan heat the sugar, a few drops of vinegar and the orange and lemon rind until it begins to caramelize. Add the Cava wine and bring the mixture back to the boil, then strain the mixture from the roasting tin into the pan. The sauce is ready, taste and adjust the seasoning. Put the duck joints, skin uppermost, |
| under a hot grill to crispen the skin; then add the sauce and serve. Pedro Subijana recommends puréed watercress as an accompaniment to this dish. |
In the same way, Pedro has reworked ideas from traditional Basque pastelería into new ideas, like this millefeuille of figs with walnut sauce. His father was an exceptional pastry maker and he has inherited a love for this difficult speciality.
During the day Pedro rarely gets the chance to take a break. In the morning there are countless small but important things to do: he organizes the selection of desserts to be made, works with the souschef on any new dishes and keeps an eye on all the basic preparations. At half past twelve, everyone breaks for the staff lunch and, if he has the time, Pedro sits down briefly at the table. Half an hour later, Akelarre opens its doors and customers begin to arrive. It is a time of tension and haste: of vigilance to be sure that each dish is perfect. All the members of staff have to make use of every bit of their expertise. It is a team effort. Pedro, checking everything, has to be in the kitchen, in the dining-room, everywhere at once. Even when the rush is over he is busy, moving from table to table, asking customers if they have enjoyed their meal, gauging their reactions to new dishes, greeting regulars and friends. Sometimes he has to sit down and have coffee with some of them as they have come to talk to him. Finally, later in the afternoon, he goes home for a few brief hours of family life. They all have supper together, sometimes he has a rest, or sometimes he goes for a walk with the three children. By half past eight, though, he must be back in the restaurant again and ready for the evening session. Towards the end of the session, at about eleven o’clock, they check the stores and make up the orders, noting the most urgent telephone calls which will have to be made first thing the following morning. Once again he is lost amongst the tables talking now with a friend, now with a customer. At last the day draws to a close. There may be a moment to have a drink with a friend who calls in the evening. Brandy is one of Pedro’s idiosyncratic whims and in his office on a large shelf, he keeps fifteen different Armagnacs.
Sunday, his day of rest, is dedicated to his children. But this does not mean that he escapes the kitchen. He cooks their favourite dishes, for example grilled fish with garlic and cider vinegar or meat casseroles. He often asks his children to help him clean squid or prepare vegetables so that, almost in play, they get used to handling all sorts of ingredients and learn different ways of preparing them. ‘Even if you are not going to be a chef, it is a good thing to feel at home at the stove’, he says ‘because it brings enjoyment and it means that you are not dependent on somebody who probably does not cook things in the way that you like’.
During these relaxed Sunday cooking sessions, Pedro has formulated many of his best dishes. One, for example, a salad of pasta with elvers, he stumbled upon while he was trying to find an alternative to frying them. Substituting fresh oil for cooked makes the dish more digestible.
Other simple dishes he makes are more traditional. One in particular, the recipe for guibelurdiñas or russulas is a popular one which you can taste in asadores, or barbecues and bars. It can be used for all kinds of fungi.
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To prepare Russulas for four people you need 1.5 kg (3 lbs) of mushrooms, 200 ml (7 fl oz) of olive oil, 2 cloves of garlic, chopped parsley and salt. For russulas, Pedro removes the stalks, which he slices and soaks in salted water for a while, leaving the caps whole. Then he dampens the hotplate with salted water and begins to put the caps on it with the slices on top. The heat must be quite high and as they cook quickly he sprinkles them with a little salted water so that they do not lose their moisture. They only need cooking for two or three minutes on each side. Meanwhile he fries the garlic in oil until golden brown and adds a little chopped parsley. He arranges the mushrooms on individual heated plates with some of the slices on top and pours over a little oil with the garlic and parsley. |
Pedro’s most cherished success is neither the recognition by other Spanish, and French chefs, nor by the media, but that of a public which is closer to his heart, the people of San Sebastián who pack out the restaurant every Sunday for large family lunches. The recurrance of this, week after week, still gives Pedro a real thrill, for he knows that these are the most ruthless critics of all. For them, he knows he must provide a perfect blend of the old and the new and no less.
‘The love of good food is imbibed with a mother’s milk’, says Pedro. ‘You are born into a family where good food is considered important, where, from your tenderest years, you learn to be more demanding. Everything happens around the dinner table. This is not so much a cliché as a custom, and not a difficult one to understand since human beings spend so much of their lives eating. If they eat well and with enjoyment so much the better for them.’