Nigella

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.

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Enough about your TV programs; what about my secret wish for you to be my special guest for some cooking in my kitchen? Come in, enter my condo, how are you doing? Thank you I am doing terrific. This is my kitchen; you can change here. I told you how I hate those high collared sweaters, so I hope you brought something else; you can change here, in the guestroom.

Oh, Nigella, I love your apron! Nice cleavage! I knew you would have nice boobs. I bet they will be nicely pear-shaped with the same freckles on the upside you have on your nose.

Oh, Nigella, now I see your back… you are completely nude under your apron! I can see your whole backside, your thighs, and your glorious bum… Let me take you in my arms and kiss you welcome in my kitchen. I can put a hand in your cleavage, get my fingers all around your ripe mellow pears and rub your bum against my… Whaaat? Cool down, Nigella. Don’t get mad. No, I don’t think you are an easy lay. I wouldn’t dare. Yes, I invited you to do some cooking and I know you are always serious about cooking. I didn’t know you like to cook like this when you are at home. OK I will be serious, let’s start with the appetizer.

Artichoke with cream cheese

I know what artichokes are. An artichoke heart is reality a flower. That’s the reason it is surrounded by several leaves. Of course you prefer fresh artichoke hearts. I happen to have a home-grown artichoke at hand. Wait a minute… here it is. Let me show you the delicate proud of my kitchen. Look my homegrown artichoke sometimes produce a drop of natural milk under its outer leaf. These drops of milk can accumulate under the folds forming a natural wrapping for the artichoke heart. The local humid subtropical conditions lead to a curdling of the milk and ultimately to the deposit of soft, cream cheese. You can have a tasting by retreating the protecting fold and scooping the cheese, accumulated under the elevated ridge. The fold is very delicate; I think the best way to do it is by your lips. Yesss… easy, easy. Do you see that creamy stuff under the ridge? That’s it! Scoop it up with your tongue! Oh, Nigella, it’s delicious. Do you think too? Take some more, lick it all up. Yesss…

Meat sausage with mustard

My homemade sausage is the special of the house, so I made all the preparations before you arrived. I can present it to you because I am just done. Doesn’t it look beautiful? Thank you, I think it looks tasty too. I like the way you take the sausage in your hands and slide it under your nose like a fat cigar. I can see you are a real aficionado. Take a nice sniff and let the subtle aroma tickle your senses. How would you like to have my meat sausage? Pure first, and then with mustard? Looks like a good plan to me, I’m out of mustard however. Oh, you brought your own? Cool. You look so nice, kneeled down before me. I’ll serve my sausage straight first.

Oh, Nigella, the way you eat it is beautiful, taking it all in, sucking and licking it. Now let me put it in your mustard jar. It looks nice with its stylized brown flower as decoration. I’m putting it in now, in that beautiful mustard jar. Don’t get excited, you will get your sausage in a minute. Here it is, this is even a bigger one, and it has you personal creamy mustard all over. You are closing your eyes while I slide it in your mouth, just to taste and enjoy it better. Let me get you another serving of dip. I feel so honored you find my meat sausage tasty enough to have it dipped in your mustard pot.

I think I have an even better sauce. Did you ever have my mustard-cream sauce? I knew you would be interested. Now resume your position, because I have to do some pumping and shaking. Be patient, Nigella, I guarantee the result will be unbelievable. My gaawd… it feels so nice, I mean I feel it will taste so nice. Now I am withdrawing my spout. Stand still, Nigella, it’s spurting out.

My freshly made cream, it fills the triangle of your chute, it is sliding down slowly. Now I am bringing in my ladle, it feels so gooood… yes, yessss! Shake it, Nigella, shake with me. The cream, it is overflowing, it is overflowing from your chute. It looks so good, I will take out my ladle. The mustard-cream looks so rich and yet so light. Come over and kneel down for me… Now lick it…! Your close your eyes when you lick it… Isn’t it delicious? Will you put this recipe in one of you cook books? You want more? You would like your mouth around it…?

“Mike, WAKE UP…!! “You are dozing off! Come on, man; wake up; you are on the job!”

Startled, I opened my eyes. Where was I…? It was my buddy Jake; he was right. I must have dozed off during my shift. My dream… it was just a dream!

Damn!!!

And Nigella hadn’t even tasted my chocolate mousse yet!

DAMN!

To be continued.

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I would like to thank my editor JayneC for her valuable contribution.