Can you remember your first sherbet lemon? That cheek puckering, eye squinting bolt - the way your tongue twisted, unsure whether to escape the shock or chase it down. It’s that bright, electric jolt that Sour: The Magical Element That Will Transform Your Cooking by
captures and celebrates in so many forms.This award-winning book is an exploration of how we can use acidity in our cooking. A grimoire of sorts, Sour is a cookbook that’s woven with stories, anecdotes and golden nuggets of sage advice that invites us as readers to rethink sour not just as a flavour, but as something we can use in the kitchen that transforms our food.
I feel very honored to call Mark a friend, and having just spent a weekend with him and Diana Henry on a food writing residential, it felt only right that our next Cook the Books should be one of his.
It’s funny, I’ve owned several of Mark’s books for over a year now as he very kindly gifted me Sour, Herb and Spice for my birthday. But I hadn’t dared cook from them as I was afraid I wouldn’t do the recipes justice. That I wasn’t ready. But, something shifted during that weekend with Mark and Diana. I came home with a new found confidence and the shackles of doubt have well and truly been cast off.
And so, I find myself reaching for his book.
As always with Cook the Books, I’ll be testing a handful of recipes that will be split over two posts. I test the recipes, take some aesthetically (hopefully) looking photos and share thoughts on how they turn out: how easy/hard they are to make, what I’ve learned and any other points of note.
Right, let’s get cracking shall we!
Sweet and Sour Apricot Upside Down Cake (p.246)
I decided my first foray into Sour would be the Sweet and Sour Apricot Upside Down Cake. I adore apricots, yet I don’t think I’ve ever actually baked with them - so this felt like the perfect excuse to right that wrong.
The recipe is split into two parts: first up, roasting the apricots in an armful of larder staples. Then, on to assembling and baking the cake itself.
I began my day creating a curious potion and soon the kitchen was steeped in a warm, syrupy perfume - one of those smells that has you finding a reason to keep drifting back into the kitchen, smiling as you breathe in deeply. ‘That smells bloody good!‘
Note: you will have most of the ingredients tucked in the back of your cupboard. Anything else you can easily find in your local supermarket
My apricots cooked much quicker than anticipated - I could have taken them out of the oven a good 10 mins or so earlier. They had all but given up their shape, but luckily held together long enough to transfer them to the baking tin. I sneaked a taste of the sauce and… HOLY MOLY.
The mix of sharp sourness against the sweetness was unlike anything I’d ever tasted before. You know, that fizzy, vibrating feeling that radiates from the back corners of your tongue - almost like it’s been assaulted, but still… yearning for more?
Bake done, I then remembered I was supposed to be nervous about the flip. There was a good 4–5cm of space between the sponge and the top of the tin, so I knew there was a chance it could split or slide on the way down.
With a deep breath, knees primed in a squat position and quick twist… it fell with a graceful thud, perfectly intact. I’m pretty sure the squat was what did the trick.
The apricots had softened into the sharp tanginess of the sauce, with the edges of the cake just catching in the caramel. The sponge happily drank in every bit of flavour.
This was easily one of the most flavourful cakes I’ve ever made - I loved how the apricots turned jammy and sweet with a tartness that twangs at your tastebuds.
And a drizzle of cream, of course.
Kiwi, Lime and Ginger Labneh Cheesecake (p.242)
My second planned bake happened to fall on my birthday - and with cheesecake being my all time favourite kind of cake, this one felt like fate.
This recipe requires a little forward planning (a good 24 hours or so, in fact) as it begins with making your own labneh. Now, for the uninitiated like myself - labneh is made by spooning Greek yoghurt into muslin or cheesecloth, twisting it into a tight ball and letting it drain in a colander over a bowl in the fridge overnight. The whey slowly drips away, leaving behind something thick, creamy and with a gentle tang. It’s like a lighter, silkier cream cheese - and something I now know is a staple in Middle Eastern cooking!
It’s definitely one of those ‘trust the process’ moments. As a first timer, I’ll admit I didn’t think it looked like much more than a mess at first. Roll forward a day and I was so chuffed with myself, unwrapping his delicate looking parcel, that it had worked!
A quick blitz of ginger nuts and melted butter brought the base together very easily. It was then a case of bringing all the ingredients together in a bowl before baking for 20 or so minutes.
What I love about Mark’s writing is how he folds imagery into his instructions. He’s able to tell you exactly what you need to know, in a way that makes you smile as you do it.
Whizz the biscuits in a blender until they resemble the sand you tip out of your holiday shoes.
After cooling and at least a good two hours in the fridge (though let’s be honest, who isn’t hovering nearby counting down to the earliest acceptable moment?), it was time to assemble the kiwi mosaic. Another reminder to slow down and enjoy the process - slicing and layering up the pieces before finishing with a flourish of stem ginger syrup.
Chef’s kiss!
It was with the first bite that I realised that Mark is a genuine master of flavour. Not that I ever doubted him of course, but this bake confirmed it. Every element acts as a catalyst. The labneh gives a creamy, slightly tangy base. The kiwi slices offer brightness and bite. And finally the ginger anchors it all with its soft warmth and spice.
Each mouthful is pure pleasure.
As people know I love cheesecake, I’m often asked which is my favourite - and from now on, I’ll be saying this one.
Earlier this week, I started prepping cherries for fermentation ahead of the cherry clafoutis I’ll be attempting next. They were halved and pitted, massaged with salt, and left to weep before being tucked into a jar to do their thing.
I’d never heard of a pickle stone before (add that to the ever growing list of oddly specific kitchen tools I need to buy) and of course we were out of freezer bags, so a makeshift weight was crafted out of a muffin case filled with baking beans and then wrapped in clingfilm. Job’s a good’un!
My fingers are still stained red, but at least the kitchen no longer looks like a crime scene.
Be sure to come back for the next issue to find out how the cherry clafoutis turns out.
I wasn’t expecting the first few recipes would have me changing my thought process and make me fall in love with the ingredients themselves… but here we are!
Mark has a rare gift for writing about food in a way that slows you down, that draws your attention to the beauty of the process and not just the end result. What I’ve realised is that his recipes are a huge reminder that flavour is built moment by moment - and that’s where the real joy sits.
Thank you for reading, friends - next week I’ll be attempting that cherry clafoutis, some lime possets and a gooseberry and oat cake.
See you next time
Mark + Hiro 🐾
from the descriptive words to the nostalgia to the gorgeously swimming apricots....I'm swooning over here!
My mouth was literally watering reading about that cheesecake! 🤤 Love the cooking. Love the writing. Would love to sit at your table! 🤤🤣🤣🤣