I hate to do this in a blog post, but we’re modern people, and I thought you should know:
I have found my soul mate.
Culinary, that is.
His name is Nigel.
I love him despite this.
I have been reading his diary, and let me tell you:
The man can put a sentence together.
He’s English and bangs on about crazy things like trifles, mullet, and blood pudding, but it doesn’t matter.
We are of one mind.
“When I say butter, I mean unsalted. When I say sugar, I mean the unrefined golden stuff from Mauritius. Pepper is ground from a mill as I need it and not, absolutely not, ever bought ready ground. Oh, and when I refer to a grill pan, I mean one of those heavy ridged cast-iron grill pans that sits on the hob. You can now get them quite easily from cookware shops and department stores.”
Okay, so I've never bought sugar from Mauritius.
I didn't even know sugar could come from Mauritius.
It doesn't matter.
Sugar pretensions aside, his food is uncomplicated, but inspiring; simple, but not mundane.
Seasonal, honest, and real.
He had me at hello.
I hope you understand and can put jealously aside to enjoy his food.
We’ll be eating lots of it, starting with this:
Nigel understands that bacon makes everything better.
What more can I say?
p.s. My heart is still yours, even if my stomach belongs to him. I think you know who has the firmer end of the deal.
images from www.nigelslater.com