Take 5 With Harriet Davidson

A peek into my world – it could look like books, words and a desk or it could look like knives, gorg produce and a kitchen. Food has long been at the centre of my world – beginning with food and travel magazine, Gourmet Traveller, I went on to be a freelance stylist and writer before chasing a burning curiosity that led me onto the floors and eventually, terrifyingly, into the kitchens of some incredible restaurants. It was two years ago now that I left for France, initially working on editing a cookbook from Marseille, then spending time in various artist’s residencies around France writing, cooking and learning about growing produce whilst deepening my understanding of France’s regional food. This past (European) summer brought much of this together through a project I’ve been working on in the South of France. Over the last six weeks I’ve been working alongside brilliant food creative Jeni Glasgow at Château de la Gonette to create daily moments and experiences around food drawing on the produce and traditions of the region, as well as our combined visions and experiences. La Gonette is a 17^th century residence owned by Australian writer Alice Nelson who is paying homage to the late custodian of the home, Robert Kime, a greatly celebrated textiles and interior designer, through creating a space for artists and creatives to seek solace and inspiration in through retreats and residencies held at La Gonette. It has been a most moving and stimulating project to be part of.

Have your travels in the last few years shifted your perspective on the way we eat, share, dine, cook, serve or even decorate a table? 

Absolutely. I think because I started my food life at a prestigious magazine with incredible editors and creatives where our job was largely about critiquing, making judgements and creating images of food that were flawlessly styled and shot, and then going on to work in highly acclaimed restaurants – experiences that I’m deeply grateful for – I’d unknowingly built an obsession that when it came to food, everything needed to be perfect and of an incredibly high standard. I’m pleased to have an understanding of those standards as I believe food and words are two things deeply deserving of our respect and efforts, but these past few years have led me to feel that actually food and feeding isn’t about everything being perfect, it’s about connection. 

Food is a vehicle to bring people together; to share ideas, concerns, laughter. It’s a way to connect people to each other, and to the land you’re on through food that draws from the produce, people and traditions of the place you find yourself in. And with this thought comes with the belief that more often than not, simple food is the most powerful – a plate of perfectly ripe sliced peaches and tomatoes from the Saturday morning market drizzled with locally produced olive oil, sprinkled with salt and served with bread from the bakery down the road and some goat’s cheese from the farm that’s been producing for the last 50 years; through one simple meal, you have the opportunity to honour the people, the produce, the history and the traditions of where you sit, and you have the opportunity to create connection at your table. Pay attention and the world around you will tell you exactly what you should be eating and how you should be dining. These last few years have reminded me of this over and over again.

Further to this, throughout these last few years, increasingly I’ve thought about the place of beauty and pleasure in a world that increasingly feels broken and tragic, but I do believe that it’s through beauty and pleasure that we can understand the importance of caring for our world and for each other, and to me, food is perhaps the purest form of beauty and pleasure in that regard. There’s a sentiment that food icon and pioneer, Alice Waters shared years ago that comes to mind on this: that beauty is a language of care. I love that thought – that setting a table, creating a thoughtful plate, cooking for people is such a pure way of showing people that you care, both for them and for the world.

Where did your love for food begin?

I grew up moving every three or four years, mostly between Australia and the islands of the South Pacific, with a stint in the U.S. thrown in there, too. My parents were diplomatic and part of their job was to entertain so they were endlessly throwing dinner or cocktail parties at home – I’ve got these fab parents who essentially have a PhD in hosting dinner parties. That definitely had an impact on me and my understanding of food, that it’s a very celebratory thing and a powerful tool to bring people from all cultures together. But also, as a family, the dinner table was always a place of familiarity, comfort and connection. As kids, we’d go off to school and often be the odd new kids with strange accents where everyone and everything was new and to come home to a meal my mother would’ve made in the same old blue Le Creuset pot with the same rituals and share a table with my little clan who completely understood me – that was always a joy and always soothing.

This love grew as I got older and discovered the world of food publishing through cookbooks and food magazines – I was instantly enamoured. I feel lucky that I found food – something to fall so hard and fast for that has led me to brilliant and beautiful people and places.

 

What or where is your newest favourite discovery in France?

The concept of have and do a little of everything, just in moderation. Oh and the importance of always having a jar of cornichons in your fridge.

What is in season right now that you are loving? What are you currently making and eating? What’s going on in your kitchen?

It’s a terribly obvious answer: plump, juicy tomatoes. They’re a true gift of the grounds, particularly in Provence. Sliced in a tart with chèvre, oregano, salt flakes and pepper; blitzed into an ice-cold gazpacho served with a sliver of pissaladière; sliced and tossed with cherries and basil and dressed with a sharp vinaigrette. I can’t get enough. I’ve been working with a brilliant woman, Jeni Glasgow, throughout this project and she’s introduced me to the magic of white Penja pepper – it almost has barnyard-like qualities that adds the most incredible flavour to fresh tomatoes.

What is your favourite recipe you've created for Styleware over the last three years?

Tricky. I do love the Roasted fennel and zucchini salad with green olive and herb dressing – I make a version of this salad regularly, replacing the produce with whatever is in season, sometimes having it as side and sometimes on its own. I do also love the Braised chicken with prunes, olives and lemon that’s up on the journal – I’ve made this a few times here in Provence lately. Oh! and the Honey and hazelnut birthday cake – Happy Birthday Styleware <3.

Food has such an ability to transport us to places we’ve never been or to transport us back to places and tables of our past tapping into deep etched memories. Would you share with us a meal you’ve eaten or created that provides one of these visceral experiences? 

It’s so true. When I first moved to France, on the night I arrived, I happened to crossover in Paris for one night with a man that I quite adored. We went to dinner at a very special restaurant and at the end of the, say, 10-course degustation menu, when we thought it was all over, suddenly we could smell this aroma permeating the restaurant that resembled the smell of your mother having just baked a cake. Next thing, a chef arrives tableside with a plate of two hot madeleines and a little bowl of olive oil. We were instructed to dip the madeleines into the olive oil while they were still warm and take a bite. It was one of the best, and most memorable, things I’ve ever put in my mouth. Lately, here at La Gonette, I’ve been recreating this moment. I’ve been making brown butter madeleines and serving them with the most divine olive oil that’s produced by a fabulous woman, Manon Monge, about 20 minutes down the road. I’d just landed in Paris and was at a Michelin-starred restaurant with a beautiful man about to embark on a life in France – it was quite a moment for me, and I love that I have this food memory that I can recreate that completely encapsulates the feeling of that night. It also just brings me endless joy to give people what I think to be a most pure form of pleasure – a warm madeleine dipped into olive oil. Divinity.