I must confess, while it is an affront to every ounce of feminism I possess, I am just a little bit in love with Gordon Ramsay. Yes, I know he’s ridiculous, and loud, and utterly boorish, but in a very primal, ugg-ugg cavewoman kinda way, he’s hot.
So I didn’t want to like this book.
His perfect, gorgeous, intelligent wife and ridiculously cute, smart and vivacious children appear on almost every page of this book, which should be grating, but is actually very endearing. Her recipes – unlike her husband’s – are interesting, but crucially, very attainable. I don’t want to buy recipe books which are filled with unpronouncable unobtainable secret Covent-Garden-sourced ingredients. I want food I can prepare quickly, simply, and enjoyably.
Mrs Ramsay does this in buckets with this book – it’s fun, fresh and very very family-oriented. This book sits in my Mum’s house next to one of Gordon’s (she bought it at a neighbourhood garage sale, discovered too late it belongs to the local library, and now hides it at home, guiltily), and you can probably guess which one is growing dust and which one has the comforting food speckles of a well-used recipe book.