Another week, another post about the ridiculous new series of Nigella Express.
This week’s episode reached the height of all absurdity, simply because of the horrible language the Ms Lawson uses when describing the food.
Lest it be forgotten, Nigella started out as a food writer, rather than a finger-licking kitchen siren, so it’s inevitable that some of her language will be a bit flowery, but I’m going to give you a couple of examples:
– “I just love the haunting brininess of the olives”
– “Mmm, I adore the resin-y rosemary”
Haunting brininess? Does that mean the olives wear white sheets over their heads?
It’s a shame, because her food is often pretty tasty, but this new series is light on good recipes and heavy on mannered looks to the camera, the incessant reminders that “I’m too lazy to chop up an onion” and the ridiculous segments where she “meets friends”.
I’m not obsessed with Nigella Lawson (honestly), but I have to make a point about this week’s episode of her ludicrous new series Nigella Express.
The ridiculously stilted and staged set-pieces that intersperse the actual cooking are bad enough – getting her son to pretend to be Kevin The Teenager was a particular lowlight – but this week, in an effort to pretend that she’s really ‘one of the hoi polloi’, Nigella was pictured (gasp!) on the bus!
Clearly, the one thing Nigella will never be able to do is blend in with the rest of the plebs in Primark, but they tried, by putting her on London’s cheapest method of transport.
Unfortunately, someone forgot to point out to Nigella (and the rest of the production team) that the iconic Routemaster buses (on which our esteemed cook was sitting) were phased out almost two years ago.
Obviously, if Nigella needs to go out nowadays and can’t find a taxi, she calls up her personal 98 Routemaster to make it look as if she’s not really that posh, after all.
I like Nigella Lawson’s food – it’s unashamedly lardy and it tastes flippin’ good (what I’ve made from her books anyway).
I can’t say I’m one of these blokes who fancies the pants off her, though. She tries too hard to be normal, even though she’s clearly unfeasibly posh. She went down in my estimation even further, when I read an interview with her in a weekend newspaper.