Kirstin: I have genuinely loved cooking from Persiana Easy. Yes, I adore those Persian flavours, but it also has that indefinable quality I look for in my favourite cookbooks. The ease of the writing, the quiet confidence that the recipe will work, the friendly, encouraging voice on the page. Ghayour feels approachable, like someone cooking alongside you rather than instructing from on high. And it turns out this is exactly what makes a cookbook a winning one for me (in fact it may be my favourite of hers, only time will tell). The flavours are thoughtfully matched and, in this case, the suggested side dishes at the end of each recipe are genuinely useful rather than merely decorative, there to make you feel inadequate about what else you did not cook. It has been a perfect way to start the year, returning to recipes I already trust, knowing I will cook them again and again. There is real comfort in that kind of reliability, especially in January.

Maureen: When Kirstin cited this book as one of her favourites of 2025, I knew I would have to try it. We’ve reviewed Sabrina Ghayour books before and even got to see her at an in-person event, so it felt like a sure thing. (Of course, some might say there are no sure things in life, but I would disagree.) I was not disappointed. She did what she does best– flavourful dishes that are interesting, while using easily-found ingredients and clear instructions. I have a friend who is a Sabrina fan too, and we agreed that she really excels at vegetarian dishes and is an all-around great writer. This was an excellent way to kick off the year.

Yesterday brought the very welcome news that Nigella will be back on TV (in the UK at least) on The Great British Bake Off. This is big news and may even persuade me to start watching the series again, having abandoned it sometime after the pandemic when life became inexplicably busier. But I digress.

Anyways, later on I made this rather delightful stew, full of spices and orange juice. And raisins. Always raisins. Having looked forward to making it all day, I can say that it was a pleasure to make. I am very much in favour of a proper winter stew, especially when it involves a glass of wine, some light chopping, and chatting to Tom while something reassuring bubbles away on the stove. That said, while this was very nice indeed, it did not quite live up to the lamb stew from the previous book.

One of the reasons I love this book is the chapter on vegetables and side dishes. I love the way Ghayour integrates these dishes with the main meals, so you know exactly what to pair with each one. This little recipe, for example, doesn’t look like much at first glance but my goodness, I’ve made it countless times since the book came out last year (I raved about it here). That’s because it’s the perfect easy side dish with deceptively lovely flavours. The za’atar and honey work beautifully with the roasted vegetables, and it’s the kind of thing you can prep while your chicken is in the oven, feeling quietly smug about how organised you are. Honestly, what’s not to love.

This morning I woke early and read a beautiful Substack post by Emiko Davies. I adore her cookbooks not only for the content (Japanese and Italian, honestly what more could you want) but for the photography and their intimate, quietly personal approach. In her post, Davies writes about why we need cookbooks more than ever. Along the way, she writes about AI and recipes (six of her books have been used without her permission to train Meta’s AI), how the internet has not killed the cookbook and the permanence of recipes online. There’s more than this but I am trying to capture just the highlights. It’s a wonderful thoughtful read and it immediately got me thinking about how deeply the idea of how we need cookbooks more than ever resonated with me.

Take the last recipe I made from Persiana Easy, Fragrant Chicken ‘Ahh’. Ghayour shares the story behind the name, explaining that her beloved grandmother, who did not know the word for spatchcocked, once asked her for “chicken ahh” while springing into the unmistakable pose of a spatchcocked chicken. I will never forget that image and I love that Ghayour has held onto this memory of her grandmother and chosen to share it with us so generously.

The recipe itself is one of Ghayour’s winning marinades. Bung it on a chicken, roast it, and you have exactly what you want on a cold Sunday evening. But it was more than dinner. Davies is right. We really do need cookbooks. In times that feel fractured and loud, I often feel that cookbooks offer something human and remind us that nourishment and nurturing can be both practical and deeply personal. Cooking, and the cookbooks that guide it, have carried me through difficult times before, and I know they will again. I am deeply grateful to the authors who make that possible.