Being a domestic goddess: The end

Now that this week-long experiment is as good as over, I think it’s safe to say that I’m not a domestic goddess.
I may not have tried hard enough but I did manage a home-cooked meal on three nights and baked a cake. OK, that might be part-time goddessery for Nigella but it’s as good as it gets round here.
I never did get over my fear of pastry – even the thought of that clammy ball of dough and it’s unpleasant uncooked smell makes my nose turn up so Ms Lawson’s assertion of some near-orgasmic sounding experience has evaded me: “Perhaps the greatest joy of pastry-making is that it’s mud-pie time; you get floury, sticky, wholly involved.”
Never mind. There are a couple of points on which myself and the curvy one agree. 1. “There really are times when only chocolate will do” and 2. she describes brown sauce as “One of my favourite recipes in the whole book – for its depth of flavour, its full toned tanginess – and a reminder that cooking is often about what you do, unplanned, in response to the here and now, not merely the careful application of culinary formulae.”
How true. But the same logic dictates that I buy this brown.jpg
while she spends more than an hour boiling up rhubarb and decanting it into sterilised jars.
Weird these goddesses.
I’m off for the inevitable Friday night curry – Nigella, you’re always welcome to come along if the rhubarb gets too
much.

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