LETTER TO MY FOOD HERO

Letter writing is an endangered art. In the rush to email, text or tweet, sitting down to put pen to paper is a rare indulgence. To change all that we invited three food writers to pen a note to someone – living or deceased – who’s inspired their cooking. It’s not something that can be done in 140 characters or fewer, and it’s so much better as a consequence

PHOTOGRAPHS MAJA SMEND FOOD STYLING LOTTIE COVELL STYLING TONY HUTCHINSON

Thane Prince writes to… Marcella Hazan

Marcella had a reputation for being forthright and exacting – a New York Times obituary admiringly described her as “a tough biscotti with a raspy voice, who didn’t suffer fools gladly”. One of the foremost Italian food writers, she was born in Emilia-Romagna in Italy in 1924. She earned a doctorate in biology and natural sciences before marrying wine writer Victor Hazan and moving to New York in 1955. She’d never cooked before she married but taught herself using Italian cookbooks. She began giving cookery lessons in her apartment and contributed recipes to The New York Times. Her first book, The Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking (1973), has become a standard text on the subject. She went on to write five more books before she passed away in 2013.

Dear Marcella

It was over 30 years ago that we met and talked, but so much of you has followed me through my cooking life. You were three years younger than I am now, grey-haired with smiling eyes and accompanied by your husband Victor who was your biggest critic and inspiration. I saw you then as old. What little I knew.

You, like me, came to cooking late and out of necessity. Wanting to eat well you realised you would need to learn to cook. Self-taught, you became one of the leading exponents of the food of your native Italy. When I taught cooking in Italy I always kept your books at my side, your voice in my ear. You loved both simple food and the more complex, but it instilled in me a discipline. Not for you the handful here, handful there school of thinking. Your soul, rooted in the food of your Italian childhood, knew instinctively that certain pasta shapes best served certain sauces. It was you who taught me that fresh pasta is different from, not better than, dried pasta and indeed that most often dried pasta is what you will be cooking. But not overcooking. The pasta must be firm, you told me, introducing me to the term al dente, meaning firm to the bite.