These are dark, dark days my friends.
I resigned myself some time ago to the fact I am now middle-aged despite my best efforts to remain down with the kids (even the outdated slang gives it away, for God's sake). But middle class?
I was still completely in denial. Until last week when, gulp, I found myself, double gulp, switching over from BBC2 having watched Nigella Kitchen to catch the second half of Huge Furry Wittering-Ball's River Cottage Every Day on Channel 4 and enjoying every single minute of both offerings, nay, even planning to try some of the recipes out.
Where did it all go wrong? From feeling faintly appalled by both, I've turned into someone who marvels at the most implausible recipes, diligently notes down the ingredients and even contemplates cooking the stuff.
I don't even balk at the posh pals who invariably turn up in both programmes for a free feed.
My husband (two years younger, the bastard) is threatening divorce on the grounds that I've changed. I'm clinging to the hope it's the programmes, not me, but really, there's no excuse especially when it comes to Nigella.
This week's episode was titled Inspiration Everywhere (8pm, BBC2, 14 October). And boy, did she mean everywhere. The grasshopper pie was inspired by some dessert she saw on an American TV programme (and the fact she liked Crème de Menthe as a kid); the spatchcock poussin and sourdough croutons on something she'd scoffed in San Francisco; the Korean calimari on her love of oriental supermarkets; and the spaghetti with Marmite on a recipe developed by one of her favourite chefs.
Frustratingly, the ideas may have come from everywhere, but aside from the Marmite recipe (and what next, by the way, Marmite condoms?), us mere plebs wouldn't be able to find the ingredients anywhere. That's why they call it aspirational, I suppose.
But given that the idea of mixing buttery spaghetti with a Marmite gravy is as easy as it is inspired, it'd be great if Nigella could use more stuff that is at least available at Waitrose. And then I'd be able to really indulge in my new found middle-class angst.
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I resigned myself some time ago to the fact I am now middle-aged despite my best efforts to remain down with the kids (even the outdated slang gives it away, for God's sake). But middle class?
I was still completely in denial. Until last week when, gulp, I found myself, double gulp, switching over from BBC2 having watched Nigella Kitchen to catch the second half of Huge Furry Wittering-Ball's River Cottage Every Day on Channel 4 and enjoying every single minute of both offerings, nay, even planning to try some of the recipes out.
Where did it all go wrong? From feeling faintly appalled by both, I've turned into someone who marvels at the most implausible recipes, diligently notes down the ingredients and even contemplates cooking the stuff.
I don't even balk at the posh pals who invariably turn up in both programmes for a free feed.
My husband (two years younger, the bastard) is threatening divorce on the grounds that I've changed. I'm clinging to the hope it's the programmes, not me, but really, there's no excuse especially when it comes to Nigella.
This week's episode was titled Inspiration Everywhere (8pm, BBC2, 14 October). And boy, did she mean everywhere. The grasshopper pie was inspired by some dessert she saw on an American TV programme (and the fact she liked Crème de Menthe as a kid); the spatchcock poussin and sourdough croutons on something she'd scoffed in San Francisco; the Korean calimari on her love of oriental supermarkets; and the spaghetti with Marmite on a recipe developed by one of her favourite chefs.
Frustratingly, the ideas may have come from everywhere, but aside from the Marmite recipe (and what next, by the way, Marmite condoms?), us mere plebs wouldn't be able to find the ingredients anywhere. That's why they call it aspirational, I suppose.
But given that the idea of mixing buttery spaghetti with a Marmite gravy is as easy as it is inspired, it'd be great if Nigella could use more stuff that is at least available at Waitrose. And then I'd be able to really indulge in my new found middle-class angst.
More from this column
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