sometimes, when i turn on the television, i have a pretty good idea of what i'm going to watch. But sometimes, when the first freckles of autumn rain are blooming on the skylight, i just like to press 'channel up' and see where the night takes me. Occasionally in those crepuscular moments i stumble across his programming.
Lots of people like to eat meat and two veg for supper, and they truly go out of their way to make that happen every night. But - for me - sometimes it's far more satisfying to just shop according to what looks good, what looks right for me in that moment. Then, over the course of the week, I have to improvise. This makes me a better man than most other men excluding Nigel Slater.
At the end of a long and grudging week of sitting at my sturdy lovable desk with my sturdy lovable miniature schnauzer by my side penning columns for the guardian with a dinky ristretto from the gaggia never far from my earnest lips, it comes to Friday afternoon and i'm beginning to wane. It is in these moments when I am forced to raid my pantry for something - anything - sweet. But all i have is the entire range of ingredients for every traditional cake I could imagine. This simply won't do for me, as I like to have a bit of fun with my cooking. Fortunately, with a quick flick through one of Nigel Slater's works, I can find cakes that involve beetroot, or pomegranate molasses, or tahini, or any number of other things I am never far from in my life. He enriches my experience during those trying times.
