A glimpse of Christmas

Yesterday I had a short but sweet run-in with Nigella. Her newest book that is. As a detractor of this book's cover, I now have to fess up that this book is the splendour of Christmas on paper.

My SO bought me said book as a Christmas gift, which is why, for the present, I am reduced to blogging about it, instead of devouring it from cover to cover. The food looks scrumptious, and though many of the recipes are familiar (rocky road bars, the Christmas ham, the Parma ham parcels, the choco pots, in fact I am told that almost half of the recipes have been sourced from her other books with a few new ingredients) to avid readers of her penmanship, they do work very well for the festive season. And at least, you now have a Christmas recipe compendium for the years to come. May I just say that Christmas has never been so luscious. And add that several of the recipes do not even require Christmas as an excuse?

Other things that stand out: the use of faux deer (yes, I too worship at the altar of kitsch), pretty ribbons, a lot of red, silky dressing gowns, some good styling and a recipe entitled girdlebuster pie. Instead of calling it a cookbook, they should push it as a night-table book for gluttons such as myself.

Expect a post on gammon soon (how can I resist the challenge?) and if you're up for the whole Nigella experience, then invest in this month's Red Magazine, which has the Domestic Goddess herself as guest editor. I am told that a 5-episode series is scheduled on BBC sometime in the next month.

This Christmas, you too will be Nigella'ed!

WTF?

Excuse me, but what happened? This was supposed to be my event of the year, the climactic apex, the stars and moon in the sky?

I mean, let's face it, thanks to my neurotic Christmas-impaired sister, Yule time is always a bit of a gamble in this family. The food is always indisputably good, the turkey incredible, and I could ramble on. The company less so.

Imagine my excitement, and the hard time I was having containing it, when Her Domestic Goddishness announced that she was pondering a magnum opus on that much cherished winter family fest.

Presently, the ink on the paper dried, and the tome is now ready to be dispatched through Amazon et al from 2 October onwards.

But, hold on, who was involved in the creation of the cover photo? What is this diminished goddess that I behold? Holding potatoes no less, not a turkey in sight, and invested in a colour clash of magnanimous proportions reminiscent of some of the tchotchkes that my Scandinavian relatives send me every year. Nary a cleavage in sight (pouts). Where is the sparkle, the sex, the Christmas tree effect? Where is Nigella, the snow bunny, in Salzburg? (sobs)

I guess I will have to wait for the book itself to feast mine eyes (and lest we should forget what it's all about, my palate). Oh, and this year, I will be having a Christmas potluck on 27 December, for all those people I know who loathe the family aspect of it, but who enjoy good food and good company. You have been warned!