There has been a general malaise about me for the last month, and especially surrounding me and the oven. We were supposed to get a new one in before Christmas but it wouldn’t fit, so now we have to wait until 29th, which is great timing for nothing. In the interim, I haven’t been mad keen to bake in that shitbox because I’d already imagined a life in which cakes came out even, or cooked.

But also I do not love Christmas baking. I am not really one to mess around with raisins. I do like to eat all the stuff, but I feel fine about getting it from the supermarket. I can heat up a Morrison’s mince pie and pour cream on it and be properly OK.

But I just got revived by Nigelissima – an Italian Inspired Christmas. Nigella, ogling some radicchio at the market. Nigella, spooning a voluptuous cream. Nigella, drizzling her dressing. Nigella, smiling into her blender. Nigella, telling us she’s a Pavaholic. Nigella, reminding us why we love to eat.

Lately, a lot of the chefs are on TV going “oh for Christmas I’m having some game I shot out of the sky, I’d never touch turkey”, but then Nigella is like “you know I love the big bird”. This particular topic of conversation gets on my nerves every year. Why are we still talking about how turkey “can be a bit dry”? Maybe turkey isn’t the best food in the world and maybe you’d prefer a pheasant or even a salmon en croute but I actually do not care. Have what you want! Just don’t be a twat. I don’t care how many AA rosettes you’ve got, champ.

I don’t want people on TV telling me how I’m doing things wrong, I want them to just tell me what’s good. Nigella knows exactly what’s good.

A very Nigella Christmas to you.

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