On Precision
We measure by weight, not by hope. A recipe that says "a cup of flour" is a recipe that has already surrendered to chaos. Flour, that most temperamental of ingredients, can vary by fifty grams depending on whether you scooped or spooned, whether the humidity is that of a Norwegian winter or a Galician summer.
So we weigh. We weigh everything. And in doing so, we free you from the tyranny of approximation.
On Scaling
A recipe for four is, mathematically speaking, a recipe for any number. But mathematics has never made a soufflé. The relationship between ingredients is not always linear. Double the garlic and you don't get twice the flavor—you get a different dish entirely.
Our scaling system understands this. Scale by servings, or scale by anchoring to a single ingredient. "I have 500 grams of lamb. What does everything else become?" We calculate. You create.
On Equipment
A Thermomix is not a blender. An AGA is not a conventional oven. A steam oven is not a pot with a lid. Each tool has its temperament, its peculiar genius. We tell you what we used, and we adjust for what you have.
On Instructions
Every step gets an illustration. Not photographs—those lie. They show you what happened in our kitchen, with our light, on our best day. Instead, we give you illustrations: clean, honest drawings that show technique rather than result.
The hero image, on the other hand, is where we indulge. Bold, painterly, unapologetically artistic. Inspired by Caravaggio's drama, by the clean lines of early Picasso, by the luminous warmth of Eduardo Úrculo.
On Writing
Food writing has become performatively casual. Everyone writes like they're your friend telling you about this amazing thing they made last night. We have nothing against friends, but we prefer Bill Bryson's wit, Joan Didion's precision, Javier Marías's willingness to let a sentence breathe.
Each recipe introduction is a small essay. It tells you where the dish comes from, what it means, why it matters. Then it gets out of the way.
On Joy
Precision is not the enemy of pleasure. Structure liberates. When you know exactly what to do, you can be fully present in the doing. That's where the joy lives: not in the recipe, but in the moment the butter foams, the sauce emulsifies, the first sip of a perfectly balanced Negroni hits your lips.
We give you the precision. You bring the pleasure.
Salt & Citrus
Est. 2026