Nigella Lawson’s cookbook Feast shows the celebrity chef’s funny side

Nigella Lawson isn’t always taken seriously as a cook. People harp on about the British food writer and television chef’s famous father and ex-second husband. It’s likely that some of this has to do with the persona she projects on her television shows – the sultry licking of spoons or her finger can be a bit much. If you look beyond that, though, it’s clear she knows her way around a kitchen.

Lawson can be funny and her person­ality shines through in her writing, as a quick glance through Feast (2004) makes clear. She writes about the debate over whether a turkey should be stuffed: “But this is where I should admit that I no longer actually stuff the bird itself, but fill a terrine with the stuffing and bake that alongside. It is, I do see, not quite the same thing, certainly as far as gorgeous symbol­ism is concerned, but there are practical and emotional advantages.

“A roasted slab of stuffing can be carved up to feed great numbers of people easily. You can never quite get enough stuffing in a bird to satisfy the amount of people the turkey itself feeds. I think it’s probably true that there is a slight shortfall in meaty flavour when the stuffing’s not baked within the turkey, but a good stuffing should have enough flavour of its own […]

“But forget about the concerns of the eater for once: let us concentrate on the burden placed on the cook. Much as I like a bit of gynae work in the kitchen and am perfectly happy with my arm up a goose as I ram it with compacted sauerkraut, or whatever the occasion demands, I find turkey-wrangling just one psycho-step too far. The bird is too heavy, the cavity too small, and the job just too tragi-comic to be managed alone.”

In the introduction to Feast Lawson writes, “Cooking has many functions, and only one of them is about feeding people. When we go into a kitchen, indeed, when we even just think about going into a kitchen, we are both creating and respond­ing to an idea we hold about ourselves, about what kind of person we are or wish to be. How we eat and what we eat lies at the heart of who we are – as individuals, families, communities.

“Not that feeding people – or, indeed, ourselves – is a minor part of the exercise. The thing about cooking is that although it can occupy the realm of metaphor, and is rich in meanings that have nothing to do with the culinary world, it is always a prac­tical venture, and central to that is our basic need for sustenance to keep us alive […]

“Different peoples eat different foods, and yet it is the desire to sit down at a table and eat with others – be they family or friends – that we share. And although food is nothing except fuel without the context in which it is eaten, you do not have to share the context to eat the food or to understand its meaning. You can borrow honestly. The rich curry banquet of Eid or the soothing but sprightly balm of the chicken soup for Seder translate easily to those who celeb­rate neither […]

“Though it can be absorbing and rewarding to wallow in the welcoming abundance of a full-on feast, part of cooking is about choosing what you want to eat, and piecing together recipes to make your own feasts. I’ve never seen my role as that of a kitchen dictator. I’m interested in the story of food; I leave the plot to you. It’s your life, after all.”

Lawson’s recipes – and types of feasts – are varied and include mushroom strogan­off with basmati rice, penne alla vodka and pumpkin seed brittle (for a meatless feast); carrot and coconut halwa (for Eid), latkes, mini jam doughnuts and rugelach (to celebrate Hanukkah); and Bohemian roast goose, redder than red cranberry sauce, and chestnut cheesecake (for a Christmas feast).