WHAT WOULD BILL DO?

If you want to cook better food in 2024, ask yourself what Bill Granger would do.

Bill Granger always said about the first bill’s café in Darlinghurst, that he “just happened to bring the right thing to the right corner”.

He had no formal training as a chef, which (as he said) was great training. No rules, no assumptions. He had no budget for a fit-out, but liked minimalism, “and it was cheap”.

He turned every negative into a positive. With no hope of a liquor licence, he decided to concentrate on coffee. He could only seat 32, so he filled the space with a great big communal table.

With no cool rooms or big fridges, he bought fresh food every morning, and gave the left-overs to staff to take home.

And he knew what he wanted to do: bright, beachy food; fresh and colourful. Not fiddled with. Plus, he could make scrambled eggs like an angel.

The place took off, and the rest – the Bill’s cafes, the Granger & Co restaurants in London, Japan, Korea - is history. He took that bright, beachy food to the world.

Bill at Bill’s in Bondi Beach, photo Anson Smart.

But what I’m interested in today is The Bill Effect on us, the home cooks.

I don’t often look at chicken, eggplant or pineapple and think “what would (famous French chef) Alain Ducasse do?” Or “what would (famous French chef) Anne-Sophie Pic do?”. But I do, often, think “what would Bill do?”

How would Bill Granger save this boring pan of chickpeas? What sort of icing would Bill choose for a vanilla bean cake? Would Bill steam or grill these zucchini? What would he do with the concept of nasi lemak?

It’s a way of forcing your brain to think – how do I make this fresher, simpler, punchier, better?

Note: The “What Would X Do?” is a time-honoured brain-storming technique I used as an advertising copywriter. (In those days, it was “what would Lionel do?”, referencing Campaign Palace co-founder Lionel Hunt, who somehow managed to nail the brief instantaneously while the rest of us were still reading the marketing strategy). It’s just a way of getting your brain to work in a different way in order to solve a problem, and it works.

Bill’s mantras were freshness, simplicity, seasonality, abundance, generosity and joy. Food was beautifully arranged rather than ‘plated’. Cooking was direct, responsive, intuitive, and almost domestic. Not over-thought. Like these sweetcorn fritters that I stuffed into my mouth while going “ohmygob, that’s goob” about a month ago.

You can tell a dish from bill’s, and you can tell when you are given a dish from a cafe run by someone who also asks themselves: what would bill’s do?”. They’re not copycats or plagiarists; they’re just inspired.

It’s that recognition of food as something that can bring us joy, and that can make us feel lighter, not heavier, that we can take from Bill into the future. Not just the scrambled eggs and the ricotta hotcakes, but the way of thinking.

Here’s an example, taken from his book Simply Bill, published by Murdoch Books in 2005.

Steamed snapper with lime dressing.

Paraphrasing here: Slice up a lime and use to line the base of a steamer basket (that’s so Bill).  Lay two small or one large whole snapper on top, season with salt, strew with julienned ginger and steam until just-cooked. Scatter with coriander and julienned red chilli and drizzle with lime dressing.

The lime dressing is just a quick whisk of 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, 3 tablespoons lime juice, 1 crushed garlic clove, half teaspoon of caster sugar, sea salt and pepper.

It’s simple, sure, but it triggers all those “I feel like something tangy and fresh and Thai without the deep-frying or the richness of coconut milk” feelings. And with olive oil in the lime dressing, it’s neither full-on Thai or Mediterranean. It’s just Bill.

I cooked it yesterday, but there was a catch. I still haven’t found the big steamer since the reno. What would Bill do? I threw the fish in the oven instead, and served it with rice. It was lovely. I also broke up the fish over my rice and drizzled it with sweet chilli sauce, because I’m a pleb, and it was even better.

You could also use julienned red capsicum or finely sliced red onion for the topping or bottoming of the fish.  But only if you think that’s what Bill would do. And he didn’t.

Thanks, Bill.

Bill Granger, 1969-2023.

Thanks for dropping by! And as always, thanks for your comments and suggestions. Special thanks to Terry for dropping everything and heading to the fish market for the snapper. And thanks to Bill, for 30 years of friendship and beaming smiles and irresistible food.

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I would also like to acknowledge the traditional owners of the lands and waters upon which I work, live, cook and play; the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation, and pay my respects to Elders past and present, and to the continuing strength and resilience of First Nations people, communities and cultures.