If music be the love of food...

Were two arts ever more closely related? The making of both good music and good food enjoy so much in common. Both require the careful blending of ingredients, be it the pairing of well-sourced, well-cooked meat with fresh vegetables or the melding of a rich brass section with the sweet shrill of wind. As the composer layers voices, tempi and form, so the cook mixes savoury, sweet, spicy, crunchy and smooth. Design, craft and rhythm in a memorable menu mirror the motifs, dynamics and harmonies in a great piece of music. Both arts are devoted to satisfying the senses and the soul, and both demand respect for recipe, execution and presentation. In each, the magic is in the seasoning – the flavour of inspiration.

Since songs were first sung, the marriage of music with the pleasures of the table has been a happy one. The Song of Solomon in the Old Testament, which is often set to music, is rich with sensual food metaphors, describing how, ‘Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue.’ Minstrels provided entertainment at all the best medieval banquets, and in the centuries since, kitchen wisdom has been handed down to us in songs and nursery rhymes (though an intensive internet search unearths no recipes for four-and-twenty blackbird pie).

The world’s great composers have also been inspired by the pleasures of eating and drinking. In The Damnation of Faust, Berlioz makes much of the scene in Auerbach’s cellar in Leipzig, in which Mephistopholes – himself doubtless a devotee of the char-grill – attempts to show Faust a good time.

Schumann, Liszt and Wagner were also inspired by Goethe’s masterpiece (the French composer Erik Satie, by the way, later aimed to escape Wagner’s influence and create music ‘without sauerkraut’). Puccini made good use of a restaurant-setting, too – part of La Bohème takes place in the Café Momus, where we are tantalised by dishes of roast turkey and lobster.

Modern music also celebrates good things to be eaten and drunk, though the jazz classic, ‘It Must Be Jelly (’Cause Jam Don’t Shake Like That)’ may not actually be about raspberry preserves. Jazz provides many food-related rhymes, ‘Try a tomato, Plato’ from ‘Everybody Eats When They Come to My House’ being one of the best. Frank Sinatra reminded us that there’s an awful lot of coffee in Brazil, Manhattan Transfer did the java jive, and we’ve had (rather a lot of) red, red wine. And the trend continues, with Kate Nash enjoying a taste of success with her song ‘Pumpkin Soup’.

The happiest kitchens invariably have music playing in them – there’s no better cure for the Cordon Blues. So, whether you’re cooking pasta to Puccini, making raita to Ravi Shankar, or baking cakes to the B-52s, remember that great music is food for the soul, and that great food makes music in your mouth.

Pasta Fazool

‘That’s Amore’, sung by Dean Martin

Dean Martin was born Dino Paul Crocetti to an Italian father and Italian-American mother; English was not spoken in his home until Dean was five. He later commemorated his father’s birthplace – the land of Caesars, Galileo and Leonardo da Vinci – in song. The moon may well hit your eye ‘like a big pizza pie’ in Napoli but this is no preparation for perhaps the most cringeworthy rhyme in popular music history: ‘When the stars make you drool like a pasta fazool’. Fazool derives from fasule, the Neapolitan name for fagioli – beans. So here’s a recipe for a nice pasta e fagioli with which I hope to cajole ye’; I’ve adapted from the dish served at my favourite cantina in Naples – La Chiacchierata.

Tangerine and Marcona
Almond Crème Brûlée

‘Savoy Truffle’ by The Beatles

Written by George Harrison, and performed on The White Album, ‘Savoy Truffle’ is a paean to his friend Eric Clapton’s enduring fondness for chocolate. Indeed, the song’s title, and many of the lyrics derive, not from LSD-inspired flights of fancy, but from the confections found in a Mackintosh’s Good News assortment. Ginger Slings and Pineapple Hearts were considered quite the height of sophistication in the heady days of 1968. This recipe pays its respects to two of the chocolates mentioned in the song: Montelimar and Creme Tangerine.

Waldorf Salad

‘You’re the Top’ by Cole Porter

References to food abound in Cole Porter’s faux-ironic hymn to the mysterious You. The pictures he paints are irresistible – who else would dare rhyme Mahatma Gandhi with Napoleon Brandy? And how delighted You’d be to be likened to a turkey dinner and, variously, Ovaltine, a hot tamale, Camembert, and broccoli. Best of all, he says that as well as being a Berlin ballad, You’re a Waldorf salad. In my songbook, you’d be one that’s gently warm with nutmeg and allspice – because you’re beyond price.

Beef Chow Mein

‘Werewolves of London’ by Warren Zevon

Warren Zevon’s surreal 1978 ditty won BBC Radio 2’s ‘Greatest Opening Song Line’ vote with its arresting start: ‘Saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand/ Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain/ He was looking for a place called Lee Ho Fook’s/ Going to get a big dish of beef chow mein.’ Perhaps this recipe would have kept him satisfied.

Crawfish Pie

‘Jambalaya (On the Bayou)’ by The Carpenters

In The Carpenters’ 1973 cover of this ballad, Karen’s voice glides over ‘jambalaya’, ‘crawfish pie’ and ‘filé gumbo’.