Episode 5 Nigella: At My Table

A table is more than a piece of furniture,

just as food is more than mere fuel.

When I moved into my first home, many years ago,

before I did anything else, I bought a table,

and not just to eat at, but to live around.

-Chin-chin, amici.

-Chin-chin, everybody.

-Cheers.

-Thank you.

At my table, when I'm winding down at the end of a long day,

they're ready for me and I'm ready for them.

Celebrating friendship at weekend feasts

or making memories with family...

..the food I eat is vibrant and varied, but always relaxed.

Old favourites... So far, so good.

..and fresh discoveries.

I need to be alone with my sandwich now.

The comfort of the familiar combined with the exuberance of the new.

Oh, I can hear how good this is going to be.

The essential welcoming taste of home.

There's no elegant way to eat them and that's in their favour.

Whether I'm pottering about at the stove or sitting at the table,

I want pleasure, I want flavour and I want ease.

Life can be complicated. Cooking doesn't have to be.

I make French toast so often.

I make cinnamon French toast, I make orange French toast

and I make French toast with plums. But, up till recently,

all my variations on the theme have been sweet

and I really felt the need for a savoury version,

and my Parmesan French toast is so comforting

when I get back late at night,

having, unaccountably, missed my dinner.

But it really makes the perfect weekend breakfast.

I need just a handful of ingredients for this.

And this being Parmesan French toast, that's the next ingredient.

Very finely grated, so that the bread can absorb it.

I want a bit of heat. Paprika gives me sweet heat.

Sometimes I need a bit more fire and then I go for the cayenne

and this brings its glorious colour as well.

And I want tang, first from some Worcester sauce...

..and then from some Dijon.

And the mustard gives a much more intense savouriness.

And I need this to be runnier,

so that it's easier for the bread to absorb.

So, it means a little bit of milk.

Whisk it together.

I like to use sourdough bread for this,

or anything that's got a bit of bite to it.

But, if you're using normal bread,

then I'd advise you to let it stale just a little.

And then, these slices...

..need to bathe in this sunny mixture,

just until they're soaked through and soft, but not falling to pieces.

These are ready to be turned now

and they can drink up the rest of the eggy mixture in the dish.

Just want to spoon over the last little bit

of this glorious golden mixture.

And I'm ready to get frying.

I want butter. I certainly want butter,

but I want a bit of oil as well,

just to stop it burning.

That's bubbling away cheerfully,

so I will lower in the Parmesan-soaked bread.

I favour a pair of implements when cooking.

See if it's ready to turn. Yes, it is.

And while they cook on this side, I'm going to get my plate.

Not that I'm impatient or anything.

As you can see, this is also gratifyingly simple to make.

And I could happily eat it any time of the day.

MUSIC: You Don't Know by Helen Shapiro

I'm always happy to eat my way to inspiration.

# Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

# Although I love you so... #

A traditional plain baked cheesecake

is a force for good in the world and I wouldn't begin to deny it.

In fact, I can feel the weight of disapproval

of several generations of Eastern European antecedents

over the fact I have been making a cheesecake that is not baked,

just left to set in the fridge

and, moreover, it's got white chocolate in it,

but I am neither repentant nor defensive and why should I be

when my white chocolate cheesecake is just that good?

Instead of a regular digestive base,

for this cheesecake, I use ginger nuts.

I put 175g of them in a sturdy freezer bag,

seal and bash them into crumbs with a rolling pin.

Very satisfactory.

I tip these into a bowl, pour over 50g of melted unsalted butter

and simply mix together with a fork.

This damp, sandy mixture goes into a 20-centimetre springform tin.

I press down on it to form the base, pushing up the sides a little.

This now just needs to go into the fridge to firm up a bit.

So, the base is done and I'm going to get on with the filling,

which starts with some cream cheese.

I am going to be quite strict about this,

which is the cream cheese must be full fat

and it must be at room temperature.

If you disobey on either count, you just won't get

the requisite tongue-kissingly smooth texture

and that would be too much of a disappointment

for any of us to bear.

Now, I've got 200g of white chocolate

that I've melted and I've just let it stand a bit,

so that it's cooler, but you can see it's still liquid.

And this is white chocolate made for cooking with,

because it melts more easily.

And you can see it's flecked with vanilla.

With a gentle fold...

It is an unorthodox way of making a cheesecake, I do admit,

but I really think it's one of the best cheesecakes I've ever eaten

and all white chocolate haters are equally smitten.

It really is as easy as one, two, three -

with one being the cream cheese,

two being the white chocolate

and three being double cream.

300mls of it, lightly whipped.

I want it thickened but not holding its shape.

That's perfect.

In it goes.

And a gentle fold, yet again. Nothing very strenuous here.

Now, I could stop there but I won't.

There's vanilla in the white chocolate, as it is,

but it's been blanketed somewhat by the double cream,

so I'm going to add a little more, just a teaspoon.

And although there is already a bit of tang from the cream cheese,

I really think you need sharpness in a cheesecake,

so I've got lemon juice. Again, just a teaspoon.

And then the last bit of folding.

And the gingery base is ready.

And softly dollop the white chocolate cheesecake filling on top.

I'm just trying to smooth the top.

And that's about as smooth as someone as clumsy

and as impatient as me is going to get it.

So, this needs to set in the fridge.

Now, I do love this plain and unadorned,

but it is utterly gorgeous,

sprinkled with ten-degree nibbed, or else chopped, pistachios.

I'm making a bit of an Eastern Mediterranean flavoured feast

for supper and I'm giving my friends

some incredibly juicy spiced lamb kofta.

And alongside, there's warmed flatbread,

an eye-poppingly intense garlic sauce,

some tomatoes I'm just going to chop roughly with a bit of parsley,

and a luminescent magenta tangle of quick-pickled onions.

Pudding is a joyous creation.

It's my rose and pepper pavlova with strawberries

and it does sound quite exotic but, actually,

the influence for it comes slightly closer to home.

Indeed, the inspiration comes from my maternal grandfather, Felix.

Look, here he is, very fresh-faced.

Just as fresh-faced on his wedding day to my Granny Rosemary.

Now, he always ate his strawberries with a grinding of black pepper,

or so my mother always said. It was something of family folklore

because I was only seven when he died.

But I was inspired by that,

but I prefer to add it to the pavlova base

and pairing its perfumed warmth just with a little rosewater

and it gives that marshmallow-bellied meringue

the huskiest hint of Turkish delight.

I make my pavlova base the night before.

First, I whisk six large egg whites until they form firm peaks

Then I very gradually add 375g of caster sugar.

The key to getting a really thick glossy meringue

is to keep the whisk fast but add the sugar really slowly.

Once all the sugar's in and incorporated,

I sprinkle over two and a half teaspoons of cornflour,

a quarter of a teaspoon of ready-ground black pepper,

the sort that comes in tubs - you know, school pepper.

Then I add two teaspoons of white wine vinegar.

Finally, and fragrantly, half a teaspoon of rosewater.

And I gently fold in everything by hand.

I draw a circle of roughly 22cms onto a sheet of baking parchment.

This is just to guide me, as I dollop out the meringue.

Once I've blobbed the meringue on the centre of my pencilled circle,

I use a small crank spatula to smooth the sides and top

of this voluminous snowy expanse.

When the pavlova base is formed

and looks a bit like the crown of a boater,

it goes into an oven, preheated to 180.

But the moment it's in,

I immediately turn it down to 150 and bake it for an hour.

I'm making lamb kofta,

which are rather like Eastern Mediterranean meatballs

in sausage form.

I've got some good minced lamb in the bowl

and I'm grating in an onion, partly to give flavour, of course,

but also, because it tenderises the meat,

making these koftas so wonderfully juicy.

Mix some garlic, two fat cloves.

I want the garlic more finely grated,

so that it almost turns into pulp.

Now, kofta actually aren't just sausage shapes.

They can be burger-like patties as well.

But what makes them distinctive,

is their emphatic flavouring.

And that's a lot of garlic.

Next, some earthy cumin and coriander.

I want the headiness of ground allspice.

It is very intense, so not too much.

And a favourite of mine in the kitchen - unashamedly so -

some school pepper. That's to say, ready-ground white pepper.

And this gives the heat of chilli, but with so much more flavour.

Salt, of course.

But it's the generous amount of fresh herbs that give

the koftas so much exuberance.

A herbal hit of parsley and fresh mint.

And get chopping.

They don't have to be chopped too finely.

In these go. Beautiful heaping handful.

And I'm going to get stuck in.

I want to mix everything together well, but with a light hand.

I don't want the mixture to become dense and compact.

Ah, I should have thought about doing this

before I got my hands into the kofta mixture,

but I want a dish...to put them in.

OK. And now, rollin', rollin', rollin'.

This is how I make them.

I just pinch out a bit, a decent bit,

give it a squelch in my hands, briefly,

and then roll to a sausage shape.

Then roll again at the ends to taper them,

so I've got a little zeppelin.

And then, when it goes in the dish, I just want to flatten it a bit,

because it'll make it easier to cook.

Traditionally, kofta are formed into sausages around a skewer

and then cooked over flames.

But I so rarely used my barbecue,

I just cook these in a frying pan instead.

These need to sit in the fridge to firm up for a short bit

and, while they're there, I can de-kofta my hands

and get on with my garlic sauce.

I say sauce, but all that's involved is a little grating and stirring.

To a bowl of Greek yoghurt,

I add a generous sprinkling of sea salt flakes.

Then I mince in a lot of garlic. This sauce is heady stuff.

Now for the zest of a lemon....

..followed by its juice.

Finally, some beautifully pungent dried mint and just stir to combine.

I decant the sauce into its serving bowl now,

but I won't get a kofta cooking till suppertime.

MUSIC: Revival by Martine Girault

All I do is fry these zeppelin-shaped patties in olive oil

over high-ish heat.

I give them five minutes or so a side.

I've been soaking some sliced red onions in vinegar,

which takes the sting out of them

and also turns them a glorious lambent puce.

These need to go into this little bowl here.

Time to turn over the kofta and give them a little bit of a baste.

I've already got some warm flatbreads out on the table,

along with my sauce, some roughly chopped tomatoes with parsley

and some shredded iceberg.

Now, the kofta and I can join them.

-Hello.

-OK, kofta, onions.

This is so strong, this garlic sauce.

Never too much garlic.

Time to put the finishing touches to pudding.

My pav base is completely cold now, which is just as well,

cos it's time to get on with the strawberry topping.

Now, I've cut these strawberries into three, from top to bottom,

so you can still see their rather beautiful shape.

There's 300g there.

And, although I often make a passion fruit pavlova

and it's one of my favourites

and I love the crunchiness of the seeds then,

for this pav, I'm just using the juice.

It not only heightens the flavour of the strawberries,

much as using balsamic vinegar does,

but it also brings that sour-sweet fragrance of its own.

And last bit of ritual disembowelling coming up.

Right, I'm going to pour the passion fruit juice

over the strawberries, every last bit.

Just two teaspoons of caster sugar.

That mixture of sharpness and sweetness really sings.

Right, I'm going to leave these to macerate while I whip the cream.

I've got 300mls of double cream in there

and I want it whipped until it's thick and airy but still soft.

I'm going to flip over the pavlova base.

Et voila!

Because, as ever, it's this wonderful tender marshmallowy side

that I want hitting the cream when it goes on.

Perfect.

So, I want a swirling mound

and don't ever worry

about some cracks and splinters in the pav base.

MUSIC: I'm On Top from Warner & Chappell Productions

I want a few swirls and eddies to tumble my strawberries onto.

And here are the strawberries now.

You can see what the passion fruit juice has done.

They're slick, scarlet and glossy. Spoon these over.

I love the way the juice has mixed some of the red of the strawberry

and the golden of the passion fruit and it's now a gleaming coral.

And now I want some of this coral juice

to run down the sides in scented rivulets.

I could fall headlong into this so happily, but better not.

MUSIC: Mr Heartbreaker by Dale Herr

Some evenings, I just want to savour

something simple, special and in a bowl.

Right, I'm gloving up to make my golden egg curry.

It gets its goldenness from this turmeric

and, although I want its beautiful hue in the food,

I really could do without it staining

everything in the kitchen, including me, forever.

I use a teaspoon to peel it, like I do for ginger.

It's the easiest way to go. It's very thin-skinned. Who isn't?

Just comes off very easily.

The clingfilm on the board is another one of my precautions.

It seems a bit of a faff, I know, but it's so worth it,

cos fresh turmeric adds such depth.

Of course, you can use a teaspoon of ground turmeric,

so don't worry.

I'll just chop it roughly.

And this is ingredient numero uno for the curry paste,

which I'm going to make in here. And in it goes.

And now I can de-glove and get on with the rest of the paste.

A fair amount of chopping has taken place.

I've got some garlic and some regular green chillies.

I've deseeded them.

And I've left these teeny, teeny little green finger chillies

with the seeds in.

They are very hot but I'm trying to modulate the heat in this fashion.

A lot of warmth from some ginger and a lot of shallots.

In everything goes.

And now I'm going to blitz them to a paste.

That's both fierce and fragrant.

I've got a smooth paste now.

It all looks a bit Day-Glo green at this stage,

but it won't, once it's cooked.

To do that, I'm going to heat some vegetable oil in this wok.

I'll get my spoon that I've already ruined with turmeric.

And I have to say ground turmeric does exactly the same.

I'm just going to fry this until it softens.

Think eggs poached in a rich, aromatic,

tamarind-sharp coconutty soup.

Absolutely gorgeous.

Oh, nearly forgot my lemongrass.

It's getting engulfed by the paste now.

Looking rather Halloween, but it won't.

This now is soft, it's slightly reduced.

So, in goes some coconut milk.

And some tamarind. And the sharpness is so crucial here.

Got a bit of salt. Always important with eggs.

Well, I think important with everything.

Just a bit of water from this recently boiled kettle.

While that's coming to the boil,

I am going to perform a small amount of surgery

on these three finger chillies,

because part of my heat modulation scheme means that,

if I pierce these slightly with the tip of a knife,

a bit of the heat will seep out into the sauce.

If you want it milder, don't pierce them.

If you want it much milder, don't add them.

And, however hot you think you like your food, don't eat them.

The currency of recipes is such a valuable one to me

and I was given this recipe by a Malaysian friend.

I'm going to hope my Malaysian is OK here,

because I think it's called "masak lemak telur".

Now this is lusciously thick and still bubbling.

So, in goes the egg.

CURRY SAUCE BUBBLES LOUDLY You can hear the curry sauce

is impatient for it.

On goes the lid.

I have to say, I often make a huge batch of this sauce in advance

and freeze it or put it in the fridge in portions,

so I can have a golden egg curry at a moment's notice.

Yes, that is just how I like the egg, so the white's cooked

but the yolk looks like it's going to be fabulously runny.

My tummy is rumbling.

MUSIC: Tally Ho! by JR Walker And The All Stars

Mmm, I might give it a little bit of chilli, try not to bite on it.

And I've got some flatbreads left over,

just right for dippage as well.

Right, I'm going in.

Mmm.

Glorious!