Episode 4 Nigellissima

I have an exuberant passion for a particular foodstuff

that some people find utterly revolting.

But that's how it is.

What gives some people pain,

can give the rest of us exquisite pleasure.

And I have everything to feed my late night need in this black box.

There is a reason why this box is black, that's because

it contains liquorice, and no-one does liquorice like the Italians.

Oh, these are so charming. They are liquorice pebbles.

Even liquorice-phobes couldn't resist these, surely.

When I'm in the mood for something a little more darkly decadent,

I go for these chocolates with an oozing liquorice centre.

Now, when I was teenage, it was considered the height of cool

to be chewing on a natural liquorice root, as really, why wouldn't it be?

Mmm, very nice, actually. What else have I got in here?

If only I had known about this black and viscous liquorice liqueur

when I concocted this liquorice pudding first off,

I would have spiked it with it.

However, I am happy enough with these lozenges.

I need a teaspoon of these little babies

to start off my liquorice pudding.

I've got some water here, and really you just have to be patient

enough to wait five minutes to let the liquorice dissolve.

Bit of a swirl will help it along, but to be honest,

I don't mind if it doesn't all dissolve.

A few dark splodges in the pudding later are rather gorgeous.

Bitterness is part of the point of liquorice,

but I still need a bit of sugar.

I'm having light muscovado in my pudding.

That is as black as tar.

Adding cream to this turns the black into a deep buff-tone,

like a manila envelope.

Frankly, I could drink this, but to turn it into pudding,

I need a cornflour mixture, I need to slake it,

which means a bit of cornflour, mixed to a smooth paste with milk.

This is hot, so I'll whisk this in.

Just a few seconds and it'll be thick.

That's it, it's ready. So excited.

What I normally do is cover these,

and put them in the fridge to chill, about four hours or overnight.

But you don't have to!

And there is something to be said for eating them straight away,

and what's more, although it does feel verging on the deviant,

with a little sea salt sprinkled over.

I don't mix it in, I just add with each spoonful.

It's out of this world.

Mmm, dark and divine.

# Lonely

# Lonely. #

When I can, I love, love, love coming to an Italian deli,

and right now, I'm here because I need some fregola,

which really, you don't find on the high street.

Now, what fregola is, is like a giant couscous.

It's often known as Sardinian couscous,

but unlike ordinary couscous, it's toasted when it's made,

so it has a real roundness and nuttiness of flavour,

and what I need it for is my Sardinian couscous and clams.

Oh, the sound of a sizzle just makes me salivate.

I've got a shallot in with some olive oil.

The wonderful thing about these shallots is

that they soften so quickly,

so I'm already in position to mince in some garlic.

A lot of garlic here, two cloves,

but this is from Sardinia, and they do like their tastes robust.

Bit of fire as well. Some chilli flakes.

This gorgeous terracotta coloured confetti.

Haven't quite finished the flavour base.

I feel I need an ungainly squirt of tomato puree.

I normally would NEVER add tomatoes to clams,

I like them "il bianco," as they say in Italy.

All-white, no tomatoes, but this is different.

It somehow keeps the lightness of tomatoless clams,

but brings a bit of brightness at the same time.

On top of all that flavour base, I'm adding a weakish chicken stock.

You could at this stage add wine, but I prefer vermouth.

It has a more mellow ring about it,

you don't need to cook it for ages like you would red wine.

In goes the fregola.

If you've never come across fregola before,

do not be afraid or even slightly panicked.

It's really like giant couscous, that's all it is.

The fregola won't take very long to cook,

and in the meantime, I will chop some parsley.

Now, the fregola is cooked, I can feel that.

It's cooked, but still a bit resistant,

which is how it should be,

but I have something to add,

that is the sea liquor that will eschew from these clams.

They've been soaking in cold water, and all you need to know is

that any clams that don't open should be chucked away.

I always feel a link with our primeval past

when I cook with seafood.

What a welcoming clatter!

These just need to steam.

Like this.

It's a matter of moments, so I'm getting ready now. Yum!

I love it when the clams have opened, and the fregola

is sort of nestling inside the shells, on the cushions of clam.

Beautiful, and the smell, I am transported to the Italian seaside.

I need a bowl.

I need a ladle, and I need to eat.

It's an odd thing.

This is so unlike anything you ever tasted,

and yet reassuring at the same time.

That is the magic of Italian cooking.

Mmm!

ITALIAN CHATTER

-Prego?

-Un caffe per favore.

-Bel.

I learned from living in Italy that you really don't need a whole

raft of ingredients to create a beautiful supper.

For example, when I cook lamb,

I just marinate it in balsamic vinegar

and some olive oil and salt,

and then once it's garlanded with bay leaves, it's so ravishing.

And likewise, I do a recipe with some baby aubergines,

and I scatter red onions on top,

but I macerate the red onions, so they're almost luminescent.

My pudding is much newer,

although in fact it comes from a relatively old source.

It's an ice cream cake that is studded with meringue

and grated chocolate.

And it's incredibly high impact, though low effort.

And I discovered it in a book written by a highfalutin

Italian man of letters.

I may have found the recipe in a venerable volume,

but it's now one of the most straightforward

and simplest dishes in my repertoire.

There aren't many puddings you can rustle up

early in the morning before a day's work, but this is one of them.

There are only four ingredients needed,

the first one being cream, obviously.

I want to whisk this so the cream is thick,

but still soft, which is what I want.

And now I'm ready for ingredient number "due."

A splosh of rum.

My philosopher actually specified a rather rare liqueur

that I can't get any more, but rum, to me,

always tastes so authentically Italian in puddings.

OK, so that's the whisking part over and done with.

My third ingredient is chocolate, it's a good start.

I find it easier to cut the chocolate rather than grate it.

It makes a big difference if your chocolate is cold,

cos otherwise it tends to melt as you chop it.

So, in with the chocolate shards.

A lovely sound.

And now, quick fold.

My last ingredient, some meringues, a bit of brute force needed.

These just get crushed in, a sugary and heavy snowfall.

And the thing about meringues is that they will not freeze,

so you create this crisp texture within the ice cream cake.

And now it's just a question of folding these in.

Mmm.

Like a morning walk on freshly fallen snow.

Now, yes it needs a day in the freezer,

but basically this is now made.

The hardest thing for me is the tearing of the cling,

but I have learnt, I have been taught, always tear the cling

from a standing up position, don't put it flat onto the surface.

Look at that.

Got to line a loaf tin generously.

This makes unmoulding so easy,

you just pull it out using the overhang.

In this goes.

Stamp it down.

So, after a day, give or take, in the freezer, this will be set

and ready to serve. And with it, I'm going to melt some chocolate,

some cream, another spot of rum, and that's a chocolate sauce done.

There's nothing fancy about it, there's nothing difficult,

but as Steve Jobs said, "Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."

'Ciao, bella.'

This has to be the easiest, speediest way of cooking a roast.

What I need, what you need,

is a boned and butterflied leg of lamb.

It may not look much like a butterfly, but that's the idea.

And, if you're not getting your lamb from a butcher, don't worry,

because any butcher counter at a supermarket can do this for you.

I'm giving it what I think of as a fast track marinating treatment.

In the traditional manner, much as my mother always used to,

I'm going to cut slices of garlic, and tuck them into the meat.

I like finding ridges and crevices to poke the garlic into.

And now a bit of olive oil.

And a key ingredient, and not a very familiar one with me,

balsamic vinegar.

I've often been undecided about this,

but it is perfect with the lamb.

There's something about the rich sweetness,

and the sharpness at the same time that reminds me of redcurrant,

which of course we love with lamb, so it's same destination,

but the Italian route. Always picturesque.

Bay leaves next.

Now, I'm going to snip some in a rather slipshod fashion now,

and when I serve, I'm going to keep some back

to have whole, because although you don't need

any extra bay leaves later, they look so beautiful.

I'm going to leave the meat to get to room temperature.

It goes into the oven, and that's a hot, hot oven,

for about 30 minutes, and then 15 minutes rest

under some foil, and it will be lusciously pink and ready to eat.

But, for now, I have those darkly gleaming aubergines beckoning me.

Lamb goes with aubergines however they are cooked,

and I am rather excited about this way,

because I have done a bit of tinkering

with an Italian favourite, which is simply red onions and aubergine.

A bit of oregano.

So that's oil and oregano there, and I have gone the cute route.

I don't always like that, but look, these baby aubergine.

I want them cut lengthways.

Just put cut side down on the tray.

You may notice that I'm trying to keep the stalks on.

You can't actually eat the stalks,

it is purely for aesthetic considerations.

And last one...

Now, I'm just going to smoosh them about here.

I mean, they've already soaked up the oil.

Aubergines will drink however much oil you give them,

so, sometimes you just have to be quite stern about rations.

And then turn these round, so they're cut side up,

and then they'll get all soft and golden

when they get their quick blitz in the hot oven.

I did promise red onion with the aubergines,

and a red onion I have. Look how beautiful.

The idea is to cut the onion into fine half moons.

It's not really cooking,

I'm not cooking this onion, it's a treatment.

And it's a treatment I devised really for myself, because,

although I love the taste of onion,

I find that acrid afterburn a bit tough.

And my method, shortly to be unveiled,

takes away any of that burn.

And here goes.

The red onion goes into a bowl.

Going to add a little "sale,"

and quite a bit of red wine vinegar.

All the acrid taste disappears,

and something spectacular happens all round.

I want to make sure that as many of these onion

pieces are saturated in the vinegar as possible,

then I can leave them to steep while the aubergines are cooking.

Right, I think I can get all this to the oven.

Supper.

Me in Venice, when I was writing a piece for the New York Times.

-Oh, very nice.

-This is incredible, I think I was somewhere in Tuscany,

and that was linguine with courgette flowers.

Very pretty wine shop, although these aren't my absolute best.

Now, that's just what I wanted to see.

Mmm!

This needs to sit for a while, then I can slice it, and we can eat.

Look at these, in all their bronzed glory.

I did speak about the way steeping onions in vinegar makes them

lose any acid, acrid taste.

But look at this transformation.

We're adding to the vinegary onions some garlic,

some olive oil, extra virgin olive oil.

Look at these beautiful pink onions suspended in that golden dressing.

They make my soul sing. They would if I had one!

And now...

..gentle transfer.

I need them warm still, because I want the onion, the oil,

and the garlic to permeate that smoky charred flesh.

And now comes the transformation. Don't think I need my whisk.

It's jewel-like. So gorgeous.

I know it's Italian food, but it's a bit of a Bollywood moment.

I've got some fresh oregano for beauty and fragrance.

And now the lamb.

I have got all this fantastic juice to pour over the lamb

once I have carved it.

Although I say carve, I mean slice.

Right.

Easy peasy. Perfectly pink.

So, it'll be piled up on its platter,

drizzled with those wonderful bay and balsamic juices,

then I think I might give it a little final crown of bay leaves.

And I can feed the hungry hordes.

Oh, lovely!

-Have you had this before, Tom?

-I have indeed.

I'm going to ask you to swap plates.

LAUGHTER

CHATTER

Well, as much as they've eaten,

I think they'll find space for a little bit more.

I'm about to unveil my meringue gelato cake.

The great thing about wrapping it in cling is that you can just

pull it out in one go, without any worry.

Just a very light brick at this stage.

I'm just going to cut it into iced slices.

I love the knobbly texture, that's all those crumbled meringues,

and the grated chocolate.

And although it looks rich, it's in fact incredibly light.

And although I'm going to put

some raspberries on the table, I do want to dot some

here and there.

Yes, they do look beautiful, but they also provide

just the right tang against the sweetness of the ice cream.

And now I'm going to Jackson Pollock some chocolate sauce over. Mmm!

This makes me feel absurdly happy.

Let's hope it has the same effect on them.

# I don't believe in fretting And grieving... #

Will you hand me a plate?

Don't worry, there's some raspberries there.

I know!

# Some find it pleasant Dining on pheasant

# Those things Roll off of my knife

# Just serve me tomatoes And mashed potatoes

# Give me the simple life. #

# Tu vuo fa l'Americano

# Mericano! Mericano... #

Real chilli fried and zingy.

So, just roll them, roll them, roll them.

I have managed to wrap a meatball in pasta.

# Tu giochi al basebal

# Ma e solde pe Camel chi te li da?

# La borsetta di mamma

# Tu vuo fa l'Americano

# Mericano Mericano

# Ma si nato in Italy

# Siente a me, Nun ce sta niente

# Afa OK, Napolita

# Tu vuo fa l'American Tu vuo fa l'American

# Comme te po' capi Che te vo bene... #

Cut.

You could add wine at this stage, but I prefer vermouth,

not least because...

Sorry!

This is not my day! OK. It really is. So sorry. Oh, my God!

It's just... Calm. OK.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd