Last week on BBC iPlayer I blubbed my way, from start, almost to finish, through the dramatised version of Nigel Slater’s childhood autobiography, Toast.
Nigel’s beloved but culinarily challenged mother died when he was around 10 years old with his father remarrying the blousy cleaner soon after. He disliked his step mother but her effortless triumphs in the kitchen set him on the course to become a chef.
Young Nigel was played by the adorable Oscar Kennedy. I think it was the combination of watching his splendid performance, imagining my own little boy being left on his own and a close friend having lost his mother at the same age that really got to me. Either that or the Dusty Springfield tracks played throughout.
Is it just me or do lots of us have horrid childhood food memories of some sort? I have plenty of good ones but they are balanced with the bad. Warm third pint milk bottles stabbed with thin green straws (I didn’t quite vomit all over the teacher like the young Nigel Slater but I came extremely close). I also shared Nigel’s memories of dinners of incinerated fish, in my case fish fingers – my mother stands accused here and will deny all knowledge in the comments below. But most unforgettably, my father unintentionally using emotional blackmail that the canned sardine in tomato sauce on my plate would have “died for nothing” if I didn’t eat it. It’s a wonder I didn’t become vegetarian over night.
As a teenager given free range in my father’s glorious (sarcasm alert) kitchen I regularly concocted a bolognaise sauce of some description into which I would throw pretty much anything. Unable to cook much else but desperate to avoid the threatened combination of watercress and canned sardine in tomato sauce that were the frequent alternative, I’d pretend to be a grown up in Safeway and come back with bags of mince, onions and five varieties of tinned vegetable. Baked beans were usually included. And grated cheese. Fortunately my father was a great deal more appreciative than Nigel’s eternally grumpy dad as portrayed by Ken Stott.
Now Nigella Lawson’s Rapid Ragu may sound a darn sight more stylish with it’s panetta and canned puy lentils but it’s not a million miles from those meaty (and slightly freaky) pasta sauces I used to cook up on the kind of cooker that now belongs in the Geffrye Museum.
With Ted’s “help” I brewed up a Rapid Ragu using some pancetta left over from Christmas. It also features my favourite caramelised onions from Waitrose.
This time round I added an extra ingredient, a blend of Hunter’s Spice Mix given to me by Kavey at a food bloggers’ meet up late last year alongside Meeta, Jamie, Hilda, Jeanne, Anne, Michelle, Julia, Catty, and Eunice.
It’s an aromatic blend of cumin, mustard seeds, paprika and chilli and I look forward to rubbing it into steaks next. Kavey had the lovely idea of giving us all a bag of spices to concoct a special dish to mark our get together. I still have plenty left so this won’t be the last you see of it.
Here’s a view below without the cheese. You can get the recipe from Nigella.com , my only amendment has been to throw in a generous quantity of Kavey’s hunter’s spice mix.
Pssst! It’s the last couple of days to submit your entry to my new blog challenge Forever Nigella!
OK I admit it. I used to burn the fish fingers – (done under the grill as its better for you) I then used to turn them over to hide the burnt bits, apparantly under the illusion that my poor child wouldn’t notice. In my defence I was a quite young mother, and the trouble with motherhood is you can’t go back and have another go. Is it any wonder my offspring turns out to be the fabulous cook that she is, with the gorgeous Teddy following in her footsteps as an apprentice.
Before its mentioned can I state that “the dead cat incident” whilst nothing to do with cooking, was also “for her own good” xxx
Along with the “dead rabbit incident” I presume?
I think a few people may take issue with the label “fabulous cook”, but since you’re my mother being biassed is allowed!
I didn’t see it, and now I feel like I really missed out.
Did you eat this à la Nigella, with just cheese and no carb? 🙂
It will probably get repeated on BBC4 later in the year. Look out for it, it’s well worth it.
I watched him on iPlayer doing simple suppers. I think he’s a bit of a sweet heart, though he could probably be my dad. Bet he’d make a good lamington!
Your dad? I didn’t realise you were a whipper snapper?!
Loved Toast & cried and cried! Will never look at our Nige in the same way again!
Luckily for me, my mother was an amazing cook & I’m still trying desperately to be half as good as her … 37 years later!! Me? I’m married to a man who’s ‘take me to bed forever’ meal would be ham, egg & chips, so I’m a goddess to him no matter what I burn, I mean cook!!!
Anyway – I’ll just stick to cupcakes!!
Really? You really loved ‘Toast’? Ok…I love Nigel Slater, I loved the book, I loved the actors, the acting was superb (especially Oscar,& Helena B-C)…but I felt (and still feel) that he actually came across as a bit of an embittered nasty little piece of work! Especially as I know that Nigel is not, in fact, an only child…so he wasn’t alone in all of this. Is it just me…but I actually felt sorry for Mrs Potter. What was her great crime, really? Cooking beautifully and desperate for the son of the man she loved to like her? It’s terrible for any child to lose a mother so young…but not Mrs P’s fault (especially when Nigel grew up) I think it came across as a bit of a snobby thing, didn’t do him any favours at all! Anyway,I love your blog, love Nigella, AND I love Nigel…just think he should have given his Dad & Mrs Potter a break and had a bit of empathy! Rachel x
I’ve not read the book but I did sense watching it that the characters were painted more extreme than they probably were. It made for excellent telly though. I did feel sorry for Mrs Potter at several points, especially at the mason’s dinner.
I loved Toast, but didn’t cry. In fact I found quite a lot of it rather amusing. His father was awful, but it was great to see how his early years shaped his future.