Episode 2 Simply Nigella

I don't believe it's possible to live well without eating well

and, of course, this means different things on different days.

But whatever the day, I want food that makes me feel good

not just when I'm eating it...

..but when I'm cooking it too.

That's a big heap of gorgeousness there.

'Simply Nigella is about dishes that do just that.

'Recipes that relax and restore...

'..uplift and enrich.'

And that's perfect.

'Food I've enjoyed with family and friends.'

-Mmm.

-Amazing!

'As I've settled into my new kitchen

'and where I am in my life right now.'

Now come with me, if you will,

to the dark side, and I mean dark.

I believe with all my heart

that what and how we cook

can make us feel better and more alive.

Absolutely delicious.

And for me a meal, however simple,

is a celebration of life and life is there to be celebrated.

On mornings when I just need to grab and go, it's breakfast bars I want.

I've made breakfast bars before but these are breakfast bars 2.0.

So full of seeds that you're going to start sprouting

and packed with all manner of smug-inducing nutrients

which I won't go into.

I need for my breakfast bars

to consult my gumbagly section,

as some friends of mine call it,

and among other things I will be requiring chia seeds,

goji berries, and flax seeds.

Bear with me on this.

There's no sugar, flour or eggs in these breakfast bars

so you do need something to hold these wondrous ingredients together,

and that something is the medjool date.

The fruit of kings.

Medjool dates have such a wonderful caramelly, treacly taste.

The most divine edible glue I can think of.

On top of that wonderful pile of torn dates,

I need some cinnamon...

and a generous splosh of water.

Might help this a bit.

These need to bubble for a few moments,

just until they're soft enough to be mashed to a rough puree with a fork.

And now everything else.

Some oats.

Some chia seeds.

These help everything stick together.

Plus, they're meant to be improbably good for you.

And I'm using cocoa nibs,

which give a rather tangy, sharp chocolate flavour

and a lot of crunch.

Cocoa nibs are really just cocoa beans fragmented.

And now some flax seeds.

I'm not just using masses of different seeds

and other ingredients for the hell of it,

but because I want the maximum contrast

of chew and crunch and texture.

I love the flax seeds.

They give a rather gentle crunch.

Now a rather more boisterous crunch -

my favourite seed of all, pumpkin seed.

And now goji berries.

I don't use them just because they're meant to be so fabulous

for you, but because I find their colour immensely cheering.

And some cornflakes.

I'm using gluten-free cornflakes,

not because I have anything against gluten personally

but because this makes quite a lot

and I like to share them out.

If it's gluten-free, it has universal appeal.

Mix this together.

I know it all sounds a bit hessian-weave

but if I didn't absolutely love the taste of these,

I wouldn't be making them. And they are fabulous.

Right, now I'll tend to medjool-i!

Mm! It is the most sensational, beautifully scented sludge.

And in it goes.

Going to glove up.

The dates are hot and they are very sticky.

What I like to do is make a batch of these at the weekend

and then I have fuel for first thing in the morning throughout the week.

Now a bit more squidging.

30 minutes in a moderate oven

and then I will be blessed with 16 born-again breakfast bars.

Also very handy for a packed lunch

and, for me, fantastic for that 4pm slump.

I first had pork buns at a buzzing place like this in New York

and I just became obsessed with making my own.

I think the best way I have of describing pork buns is to say

"think belly pork burgers",

and, yes, every bit as good as that sounds.

And I'm rather thrilled, though I say it myself,

with my homespun, simplified version.

I mean, it takes a bit of time, but really very, very little work.

I do get these soft, steamed bao buns from a local Asian supermarket

but, you know, I don't see why you couldn't just use soft bread buns.

I mean, the important thing

is the pork is just meltingly luscious.

OK, I'm going to dig in.

'My hoisin-braised pork belly in soft buns is a glorious

'and greedy DIY lunch for family and friends.

'The secret is in the prep.

'So the night before, I brine the pork belly

'in cold water, sugar and salt.

'I use a plastic bag as a receptacle for the marinade

'and then I seal it up

'and pop it in the fridge

'for at least eight hours and up to 24. So, all very easy.'

Being something of a pyrophile,

I do like a dollop of fiery sauce in a pork bun,

and my garlic, chilli and ginger sauce

begins with five red chilli peppers.

'They go in, seeds and all.

'I told you I liked it fiery.

'About a ten-centimetre length of ginger,

'peeled and cut up into chunks for more warmth.

'A couple of garlic cloves intensify the heat.

'And then seasoning -

'a teaspoon of fine sea salt...

'..and then two of sugar to balance the heat.

'Some sunflower oil.

'The zing of the juice of a lime.

'And whizz to a puree.

'That's all there is to it.

'Then leave in the fridge overnight,

'taking it out to get to room temperature before serving.'

I'd only ever roasted pork belly,

but there is another way.

When you softly braise the brined, plumped meat,

it is all succulence, every little bit of it.

I braise the pork in a mixture of water and hoisin, very low effort.

But before I braise, I'm going to daub each slab

with a bit of the liquid.

And blitz it in a hot oven to help it on its way.

It needs only 30 minutes in a very hot oven

for the top to turn beautifully bronze.

It is a thing of beauty - such an uplifting sight.

I'm going to pour over the remains of the braising liquid,

carefully missing the top.

You know, the thing about the pork buns, like all sandwiches,

it's all about the build.

So into each soft bun I pack a quivering slice

of soft, braised pork belly....

..a fiery daub of chilli sauce,

perhaps some extra hoisin,

and, of course, some cooling cucumber

and a tangle of spring onion.

But the important thing for me are some sweet, crisp, fried shallots.

Ah!

I have asbestos hands but it would be more sensible to wear gloves.

So this is tightly sealed and ready to be sweetly braised

while I get on with frying the shallots.

'That goes in low and slow for another two hours.

'I use banana shallots, which are much easier to deal with

'than the little round ones.

'I slice them thinly

'and fry them quickly in hot vegetable oil.'

Once they're crisp and golden,

I leave them to cool on a piece of kitchen towel.

Gorgeous.

Now, tempting though it is to start eating this immediately

in its freshly burnished state,

I find it makes my life easier to let it get cool,

and then slice it cold -

much easier for me to do since I'm a bad carver -

and then I can warm it up in these lovely juices

when the hungry hordes arrive.

Mm!

My pork bun feast is everything I like

about having people over to eat.

It's very laid-back and relaxed, a lot of food, but more importantly

a lot of DIY at the table, that's to say condiments and picky things

so everyone can eat how they want and what they want.

The important thing is everyone has a good time, me included.

OK, I'm going to park some here, and there's some spoons.

I'm going to assemble mine. You can do yours differently.

-Look how selfless you are.

-You're doing it in a boy way.

Then I'm going to have coriander.

-And then I'm ending on shallots.

-I'm ending on shallots.

You see, this is...

Oh, yeah, the garnish, thank you so much.

-Careful with the chilli.

-Oh, I'm a bit of a chilli head.

I'm going in for a bite.

Absolutely delicious.

I come up with recipes in a number of ways

and the inspiration is often inadvertent. A case in point -

I was lounging about reading, or rather re-reading,

a favourite book of mine, Home Cooking by Laurie Colwin -

much beloved - and anyway, I came across this description

of one of her dinner party regulars

and it involves getting a chicken, getting it cut up

and then dipping each piece in mustard which is flavoured

with garlic and thyme and a pinch of cinnamon

and then rolls it in breadcrumbs and cooks in the oven for two hours.

And I found the idea of those flavours together really beguiling.

My crunchy chicken cutlets are just an easy evolution

and are now part of MY repertoire.

You find me happily absorbed

bashing a couple of chicken breasts

into elegant escalopes or cutlets.

This is disturbingly gratifying.

But these are ready.

Ah, bit of calm now.

Before they get their crunchy coating,

I'm going to bathe them in Dijon mustard.

Even though they get such a brief dunking,

the mustard really seems to tenderise them

and gives such piquancy.

On top of the mustard, some cinnamon.

One clove of garlic - just mince it in.

And finally one egg, just to bring everything together

and help it stick to the chicken breasts.

And I shall whisk these together.

The gold and the blue - it's like the beach.

And now, in for a brief dip

go these beautiful - look how thin - escalopes.

This is so enjoyable.

There's enough here to give quite a good, thick coating.

I'm going to leave these lying happily here

while I go and wash my hands.

This really is as easy as one, two, three.

We've had one - the bashing, two - the bathing

and three - the crunchy coating.

And this crunchy coating comes courtesy of cornflakes.

I love the crumb you get from these.

And now I massage and coax the cornflakes into crumbs.

This whole recipe is a bit like being a three-year-old.

Only better.

I'm going to deepen the golden tan of the cornflake crumbs...

..by adding some smoked pimenton or paprika.

This adds a bit of heat - always good.

So, one by one, these bathing beauties

go into the cornflake crumbs to get crunchily coated.

I find it easiest just to put each cutlet or escalope

into the crumbs and then sprinkle or dust the top with more.

And just carry on until they're thickly coated.

While these chicken escalopes

settle in their slightly fiery cornflake coating...

..I'll get on with my fennel, watercress, and radish salad.

First, a bulb of fragrant fennel, sliced as thinly as possible.

If you aren't as clumsy as I am, you could use a mandolin

but I just don't trust myself with one.

The same goes for the radishes -

about four to six, cut into thin discs.

And a couple of handfuls of peppery watercress to line the plate

before showering the fennel on top.

A squeeze of lemon,

a pinch of sea salt, a trickle of extra virgin olive oil

and that's it.

Right, I don't need much oil

and because these are so thin, I don't need much time.

I'm ready to flip.

And the outside is so crunchy.

And they're done.

A small readjustment of my leaves.

And it's crunch time.

# Sugar pie honey bunch

# You know that I love you

# I can't help myself

# I love you and nobody else... #

A while ago, I compiled my Chocolate Cake Hall of Fame,

but that's never stopped me making new ones,

and the latest addition to this illustrious list

is right up there at the pinnacle.

And don't faint, but it's vegan.

Now I came up with it for a vegan friend of mine

but I've been making it nonstop ever since

and my dark and sumptuous chocolate cake

is not only seductively simple to make, but it might just be

one of the best chocolate cakes you have ever eaten.

I start my making the icing.

I pour 60 ml of cold water

into a heavy-based saucepan.

Then I add 75g of coconut butter,

which is different from coconut oil,

though you could use marge.

50g of soft brown sugar

gives a subtle suggestion of caramel that I adore.

To get the slightly bitter edge I want,

I add one-and-a-half tablespoons of cocoa.

Plus a teaspoon-and-a-half of instant espresso powder.

I bring all the ingredients to the boil...

..and then turn off the heat

before quickly adding some finely chopped chocolate.

It must be good and dark.

Nothing less than 70% cocoa solids will do.

I give the pan a swirl

to help the chocolate melt gently into the hot liquid.

And then I whisk it all together until it's thick and smooth.

Then leave it to cool while I get on with the gorgeous cake.

That's 225g of plain flour.

One-and-a-half teaspoons of bicarb.

Half a teaspoon of free-flowing salt.

And just as in the icing,

a teaspoon-and-a-half of instant espresso powder.

And a lot of cocoa, 75g.

This is a very chocolaty chocolate cake.

It's a two-stage affair

and the first stage is done.

For the second stage, a lot of water - 375ml.

Now, this is a liquid batter

and that's what makes the texture so fabulous.

I've got 75g of coconut oil.

It would be 90ml if it were liquid.

And the thing about coconut oil

is it's solid until the temperature's 24 centigrade,

and then it liquefies.

Just give this a little coax to help it melt.

You can use any vegetable oil

but I find coconut oil really gives a wonderful crumb.

And just as there was dark sugar in the icing,

there is soft dark sugar here.

300g of it.

I want a teaspoon-and-a-half of vinegar.

The vinegar acts with the bicarb to make the cake rise

and have a lightness and this is very important since, of course,

there are no eggs.

And now it's just a matter of pouring one to t'other.

Quite apart from being seduced

by the splendid squidgyness of this cake,

it's so easy,

you can see why I wheel it out for every family birthday now.

This cake needs about 35 minutes in a 180-degree oven.

And then you just let it cool in its tin.

Once it's cold, the icing will be at a perfect consistency.

I pour that on

and then celebrate the cake's sumptuousness by sprinkling it

with rose petals and pistachios.

And now a casual stroll to the oven.

To finish the cake, I gently ease the icing to the edges.

If you want to adorn it, now is the time.

Strew joyously with chopped pistachios

and dried rose petals or whatever your heart desires.

It needs to be left for 30 minutes to set, but that's a big ask.

-DIRECTOR:

-Action.

I'm hypnotising myself here.

Someone take me...

OK. Hysteria has now set in. OK.

Action.

Lot of cocoa - 75...

most of it on the counter, it would appear!