In his "ABC of Reading", the American poet Ezra Pound reported his delight at finding in a German-Italian dictionary the entry "dichten = condensare". "Dichten" means "writing", as in poetry. So simple, said Pound, writing poetry is condensing.

Edouard de Pomiane is a poet of the kitchen. Like John Travolta's character in "Get Shorty", he says "no more than necessary, if that." His breezy confidence does more to inspire and assure an aspiring cook than any amount of detailed instruction.

The book's premise is that one has an hour for lunch. (Even the French will remember this with nostalgia.) Each dish is limited to ten minutes preparation time. Thus the reader may prepare a three-course lunch and spend half an hour enjoying it.

De Pomiane urges the necessity of having a pot of boiling water on hand. The time taken to boil this is not included in the ten minutes. You should start the pot as soon as you begin, "even before you take off your hat". If you do not need the water for the cooking, you will use it for washing up.

Though some of his recipes appear to verge on self parody, it is nothing but poetry.

He describes in two or three sentences how to cook a soft boiled egg. Then: "Salt. Eat with a crisp lettuce leaf and a glass of dry white wine. This is a feast."

Not all the dishes are obvious. The first recipe I tried from the necessarily skimpy section on desserts was for an implausible concoction of sliced bread, jam, milk and sugar. It was unbelievably good.

I understand Elizabeth David was an admirer of de Pomiane's elegant, funny and limpid clarity.

My quotations are from memory: I lost my 1967 edition a quarter of a century ago, but I'm ordering another right now.

In his "ABC of Reading", the American poet Ezra Pound reported his delight at finding in a German-Italian dictionary the entry "dichten = condensare". "Dichten" means "writing", as in poetry. So simple, said Pound, writing poetry is condensing.

Edouard de Pomiane is a poet of the kitchen. Like John Travolta's character in "Get Shorty", he says "no more than necessary, if that." His breezy confidence does more to inspire and assure an aspiring cook than any amount of detailed instruction.

The book's premise is that one has an hour for lunch. (Even the French will remember this with nostalgia.) Each dish is limited to ten minutes preparation time. Thus the reader may prepare a three-course lunch and spend half an hour enjoying it.

De Pomiane urges the necessity of having a pot of boiling water on hand. The time taken to boil this is not included in the ten minutes. You should start the pot as soon as you begin, "even before you take off your hat". If you do not need the water for the cooking, you will use it for washing up.

Though some of his recipes appear to verge on self parody, it is nothing but poetry.

He describes in two or three sentences how to cook a soft boiled egg. Then: "Salt. Eat with a crisp lettuce leaf and a glass of dry white wine. This is a feast."

Not all the dishes are obvious. The first recipe I tried from the necessarily skimpy section on desserts was for an implausible concoction of sliced bread, jam, milk and sugar. It was unbelievably good.

I understand Elizabeth David was an admirer of de Pomiane's elegant, funny and limpid clarity.

My quotations are from memory: I lost my 1967 edition a quarter of a century ago, but I'm ordering another right now.