Chapter 1: Dear Nigella
To Nigella Lawson, food writer and TV cook.
Dear Nigella,
When I watch you on TV I can’t help dreaming away. You always look stunning to me with your long, chestnut brown locks and that sexy, coy smile; a hot woman who loves to eat and knows the way to my heart and other parts of my body. I am considered a tough guy (translated in your English: a tough bloke) but when I see you cooking on TV, I feel myself melting like a pat of butter in a frying pan (although at another location I am stiffening considerably).
You look always extraordinarily beautiful. For the first time in my life I am watching cook shows, just to see you walk around behind the counter, to see those wonderful arms moving. I wished such a domestic goddess would come over to cook in my kitchen. My secret wish is I could recreate the famous food scene from the movie 9½ weeks with you. Why are you always so buttoned up? Why do you hide your buns behind that blue jacket? Only once I read that when you were making crepes in one of your programs, the camera’s focus seemed to be on your breasts. Show more of the wonderfully rounded shoulders you have, and your marvelous skin. And then that provocative British accent! When I hear you say “then add some peppaaah” I feel completely peppered up.
As I watch your show, I feel myself floating away to Fantasyland. When I see you kneading the minced meat, I feel your hand lovingly kneading my tender flesh. When you are making sausages, I imagine you are taking care of mine. When you are holding eggs with those long slender hands I can feel those hands around mine. No, you don’t have to shell my eggs from their packaging. Just weigh those jewels in the palm of your hands. Then sniff at their hairy enclosure for any aroma and it will make my blood boil. Other than in regular eggs, inside mine you will find something more exquisite than yolk. It is a creamy liquid, aged for days at a temperature, just below the regular body temperature. It is periodically shaken, not stirred, and the way it should be tasted is another story. It is not just a tasting; it should be celebrated like a religious experience. You should kneel down with your heads up. Then stick out your tongue and it will be placed right there like the way you receive a consecrated host. When you gulp the sacred drink, you can be sure you will be absolved from all dirty desires you ever had.
I salivate when you demonstrate your recipe for fried onion rings. They look delicious and wonderfully crispy. When you show the camera the onion rings with the delightful brown edges, my thoughts seek free rein. How can I persuade you to bend over deeply and show me the onion ring you keep concealed under your slacks. How appealing your onion ring will be with those ultra-thin radiating grooves, all ending in that magic chute? I like to touch it with the top of my finger, just to feel the relief of those tiny ribs.
“Would you like to have a taste?”
Of course you do, you are a cook, you like to taste your own stuff. I will let my finger go round and round your brown onion. It feels so nice, Nigella, it has a nice feel of elasticity. Look, here is my finger, you can taste it, just like you taste your own finger on TV. Yes, take the top in your mouth and smile at me. Oh, you would like to taste something else? My asparagus tip? Asparagus tips are considered a delicacy and rightly so. So never take the whole head directly in your mouth. Don’t be greedy and first start by licking along the ridge of that lovely bulb, all around the whole circle. Then massage the spongy tissue with your lips. Lick your way down along the broad spear to the dangling appendices and work your way back to the top. Then, and only then, the time has come for you to take the whole tip in your mouth and let it roll gently on your tongue.
