How to be A Domestic Goddess [Paperback]

Those who love comfort food have cause to be grateful for Nigella Lawson's book How to Be a Domestic Goddess. Cause, too, perhaps, to wonder that she isn't the size of a house, since baked comfort foods typically encompass large quantities of butter, cream, eggs, sugar, chocolate, nuts, cream cheese and all the other foodstuffs to which with dreary inevitability attaches the deadly word "sinful". But in Nigella Lawson's hands these dangerous, even feared, substances are transmuted alchemically into the healing balms of the goddess, who presides (perhaps a little ironically) over a harmonious kitchen realm.

The recipes are suitably divine, covering cakes, biscuits, pies, puddings, breads, with special sections on cooking for (and by) children and Christmas. Most are sweet, though there is a choice selection of savoury pies and puddings--Pizza Rustica, Steak and Kidney Pudding, Cornish Pasties. The sweet things range from the airy elegance of Pistachio Macaroons, through the luscious spiciness of Norwegian Cinnamon Buns, to the trailer-trashiness of Coca-Cola Cake.

Nigella Lawson's poise never falters, whether she is discussing serving mulled wine with mince pies ("Don't fight it") or a strange passion-fruit liqueur required for one of her trifles ("the most divinely camp liqueur you could ever come across"). She plays a kind of game with her readers, insisting constantly on her greed, but really invoking our own. What a fascinating book: hints of obsessiveness revealed behind the beautifully projected personality of a laid-back voluptuary.--Robin Davidson --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.

In the busy, stressful life of the modern woman, there could be more feelgood mileage from running up a tray of muffins or baking a cake than in almost any other cooking. But we're so busy making efficient, 'modern' food, that we too easily forget, what Nigella demonstrates in this mouthwatering and deliciously reassuring cookbook, that actually it's not hard to make a cake, that the appreciation and satisfaction it brings are out of all proportion to the little effort involved. A domestic goddess has to maintain her cool when faced with pastry - but with Nigella's guidance even shortcrust pastry can be pretty pain-free. Here at last is the book which understands our anxieties, feeds our fantasies and puts cakes, pies, pastries, preserves, puddings, bread and biscuits back into today's kitchen and our lives. Everything from cup cakes to certosino, from brownies to bagels, from peach cream pie to pizza, chewy amaretti to Blueberry boy-bait, from baklava to a Barbie cake, as well as children's cooking, Christmas baking and other family treats. (20000912) --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.

This gorgeous, deliciously reassuring book is not about being a goddess, but about feeling like one. It taps straight into every woman's cooking fantasy and demonstrates that it's not pie-in-the-sky but a real mouthwatering cake in the oven. --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.

Nigella is the author of several bestselling books, How to Eat, How to Be a Domestic Goddess, Nigella Bites, Forever Summer and Feast, which, together with various successful Channel 4 TV series, have made hers a household name in several continents. She is a contributor to the New York Times and writes regularly for other publications.
--This text refers to the Hardcover edition.

ROSEBUD MADELEINES

It was the curled-in smallness of these tender sponge biscuits, as well as the fact that they’re flavoured with rosewater, that made me name them as I have. I like them with coffee when pudding’s been just a plate of cheese, but eat them with whatever and however you want. The dried rosebuds in the picture are obviously not an obligatory ingredient: for me, it’s just a Citizen Kane kinda thing.

50g unsalted butter, plus 1 tablespoon for greasing
1 large egg
40g caster sugar
pinch of salt
45g plain flour, preferably Italian 00
1 tablespoon rosewater
icing sugar for dusting
24-bun mini-madeleine tin

Melt all the butter over a low heat, then leave to cool. Beat the egg, caster sugar and salt in a bowl for about 5 minutes, preferably with an electric mixer of some sort, until it’s as thick as mayonnaise. Then sprinkle in the flour; I hold a sieve above the egg and sugar mixture, put the flour in and shake it through. Fold in the flour with a wooden spoon and then set aside a scant tablespoon of the cold, melted butter for greasing the tins and fold in the rest along with the rosewater. Mix well, but not too vigorously. Leave to rest in the fridge for 1 hour, then take out and leave at room temperature for half an hour. Preheat the oven to 220ºC/gas mark 7.
Generously brush the insides of the madeleine tins with the tablespoon of butter (melting more if you feel you need it) before filling them with half the cake mixture (this amount does 2 batches). About 1 teaspoonful in each should do: don’t worry about covering the moulded indentations; in the heat of the oven the mixture will spread before it rises. Bake for 5 minutes, though check after 3. Turn out and let cool on a rack, then arrange on a plate and dust with icing sugar. Repeat with the remaining half of the mixture.
Makes 48. --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.