How do I love Nigella? Let me count the
ways. Sometimes she’s bigger, and some times she’s smaller, but she’s
always incredibly beautiful. She is incredible intelligent and
well-educated, and has had some incredibly hard knocks (including the
death of her first husband) and survived with consummate grace.
She is a mother over 40 who oozes sex appeal, admits to cooking pasta for herself to eat in bed while watching television, and deep fries candy bars in batter. Most important, in an age of molecular gastronomy and foodie preciousness, she cooks food that is simple, sensuous and exactly what you were yearning for but couldn’t name until you saw the recipe.
I can’t exactly remember when I met Caroline as this whole online food world introduces you to so many people on a regular basis. But I do remember this: instant connection. Bright. Fun. Sharp. All the qualities I love in friends, and the fact that she knows food made it all the better.
As I was reading the introduction to Russell Van Kraayenburg’s cookbook, 
, I found myself questioning his ardor for the humble encased meat. I mean, really, who could say, without his tongue inserted into his cheek, that he found hotdogs “alive with possibilities”?