All language subtitles for Nigella.At.My.Table.S01E06.1080p.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-squalor

(Cheerful music,
indistinct chatter)

This is very delicious.

A table is more than
a piece of furniture,

just as food is
more than mere fuel.

When I moved into my first home many years ago,
before I did anything else, I bought a table.

And not just to eat
at, but to live around.

Chin-chin, amici. Chin-chin,
everybody. Cheers.

At my table, when I'm winding
down at the end of a long day...

They're ready for me,
and I'm ready for them.

..Celebrating friendship
at weekend feasts,

or making memories
with family...

The food I eat is vibrant and
varied, but always relaxed.

Old favourites...
So far, so good.

..And fresh discoveries.

I need to be alone
with my sandwich now.

The comfort of the familiar, combined
with the exuberance of the new.

Ah! I can hear how
good this is going to be.

The essential
welcoming taste of home.

There's no elegant
way to eat them,

and that's in their favour.

Whether I'm pottering about at the stove or sitting
at the table, I want pleasure, I want flavour

and I want ease.

Life can be complicated,
cooking doesn't have to be.

Bitter radicchio, salty blue
cheese, sweet chestnuts... this is an

essentially wintery salad that I
eat very happily all the year round.

I just want to tear these Ruby
leaves into bite-sized pieces.

Normally, when I make a salad, I just add a glug
of extra virgin olive oil, a spritz of lemon juice

and a sprinkling
of sea salt flakes.

But this is a special salad, and
it deserves a special vinaigrette.

And it really deserves
star billing in its own right.

It's become, in a way,
my house dressing.

It starts off, aromatically
and astringently,

with orange juice,
freshly squeezed,

and I want two teaspoons.

And after that, the same
amount of lime juice.

I'm giving you the
measurements because

it's actually very
helpful to know the ratio.

And now, I want a
teaspoon of grain mustard.

And a teaspoon of honey.

I'm using a
tablespoonful of olive oil.

Just ordinary olive
oil, not extra virgin.

I'm not using extra virgin because I
want a teeny drop of toasted sesame oil.

It's got such a strong nutty flavour, it really
wouldn't be worth using extra virgin olive oil.

A teeny pinch of salt, because
remember, the blue cheese is salty.

And now, a bit of a shake.

And before I do anything else, I'm
going to dress the salad, just as it is.

It may not look like a lot of dressing
but the trick is to toss it patiently

and take your time.

And in fact, often when
I'm a bit impatient and go

too fast, I add too
much dressing,

and end up with an
overdressed salad.

Time for the chestnuts, which I'm
very glad to say, I buy like this, peeled

and vacuum packed. I
don't cook them myself

and peel them very painfully,
like my mother always did.

And very bad temperedly, too.

Just crumble them in.

Such an underused ingredient.

This salad is also very good
with walnuts in place of them.

Ah, but nothing can
substitute for the blue cheese.

It doesn't really matter what blue
cheese you use, as long it's sharp

and crumbly, rather
than too creamy.

This is gorgonzola,
a real treat.

And normally, I wouldn't
condone putting cheese like this

in the fridge, but it has to be cold
or I wouldn't be able to crumble it.

Right, I'm going to
toss this together again.

So, the little bits of Chestnut

and the nuggets of blue cheese
are dispersed throughout the salad.

I make this an awful lot when I have people over, but
I have to say, as a solo treat, it is unparalleled.

I want some seafood mamma,
and this is a dish that always delivers.

My mussels with
tomatoes and pasta

is really rather like a rich red and italianate
moules mariniere, studded with stubby pasta.

I like to use
ditalini, or ditaloni.

You can use macaroni,
I won't punish you for it,

but there's something fantastic
about this shape with the mussels.

They're sturdy
but they're small.

I just want to warm some
oil, just regular olive oil.

And slice these cherry
tomatoes across the equator.

When I was younger, I had
such shuddering contempt

for the combination of
tomatoes and seafood,

but now, I embrace the union.

The honeyed acidity of these
cherry tomatoes provides a

wonderful balance to the silky
umami depth of the mussels.

I know I chop slowly,
but it doesn't really matter.

It matters in a restaurant when
you're feeding 60, but not just at home.

Add the tomatoes to the pan.

Now, they will splutter a bit, so
I'm going to keep at arm's length.

Look at them
spritzing jubilantly.

I just want them to soften.

And you can see that as they
ooze their viscose juices into the pan,

they're turning the
oil an orangey colour.

And on top,

I want some garlic. I've got two
cloves, just grated straight on top.

And the reason why I
cook the tomatoes first a bit

is that I don't want the
garlic to burn and get bitter.

I want sweetness
as well as heat.

And next, some chilli flakes,
bought from Milan airport.

I know this is unconventional... well,
it's just because I wear contact lenses

and it'll be agony
tonight if I use my hands.

A little bit of salt.
Not too much...

Because the mussels bring
the salinity of the sea themselves.

And now,

a slosh of red vermouth.

There's something about all
vermouth, but particularly red,

that give a near instant
hit of slow-cooked flavour.

This can bubble up a bit
just while I get the mussels.

Using a spider, just a wire mesh ladle,
I'm just going to add them to the pan.

Now the mussels can steam in
all that wonderful aromatic liquid.

I'm going to give
it a bit of a shake.

And then, while I wait for them,

I'll chop some parsley.
Just roughly chopped.

I always love a bit of mezzaluna
action. It's curiously therapeutic.

Perfect. The mussels are cooked

and looking like baby
birds with their beaks open.

And actually, the
pasta... Yep, it is...

It could do with another minute,
which is what it's going to get.

So in it goes directly.

The pasta, even though the heat
is now off, will carry on cooking,

and drinking up the
winey-briney juices.

The starch from the pasta
water thickens the liquid.

Ok, I must leave it, and actually, I could
do with doing a bit of clearing up as I wait.

And that looks just lovely.

I like it when the bits of
pasta nestle inside the shells.

A generous
scattering of parsley.

Now, obviously, you can eat
this however you want, but the way

I think is best, is first, to
eat these golden mussels,

and then slurp up the
sauc-soused pasta.

I've got more or less
all I need for supper,

but I'm just on the search
for a few final ingredients.

When I come to a place like
this I really have to try and practice

uncharacteristic restraint,

because I always end up wanting
one of everything in the shop.

Ah! It's all so beautiful.

But I think I want
this one, yeah.

I've got some girlfriends
coming over, and they

have been very precise about what they want
me to cook for them, so by popular request,

I am making my chicken
with red grapes and marsala.

And afterwards, I'm given them a deeply
divine sunken chocolate amaretto cake,

and to be dolloped alongside,
crumbled amaretti cream.

I need to get on with
the cake ahead of time.

I want four large eggs,
and 125g of caster sugar,

and I whisk these together.

This is a flourless cake made
with ground almonds - I need 75g -

and then two
tablespoons of cocoa.

I just fork to mix.

Meanwhile, my eggs and sugar

should be thick and moussey

and at least doubled in volume.

Then I slowly add the
almond and cocoa mixture.

I add three tablespoons of amaretto
liqueur, to melted dark chocolate

and butter, 100g of each,
slightly cooled in a bowl.

Whisking gently now,

I pour this in a slow and
steady stream, into the batter.

The combination
of ground almonds

and amaretto give this rich
chocolate cake a marzipany depth.

When I've got what looks like a
billowy chocolate mousse, I pour

and scrape it into a
lined 20cm spring form tin.

This needs 20-25 minutes in an
oven pre-heated to 180 degrees.

When the cake's
baked and cooled,

I can set about supper
in leisurely fashion.

A splosh of olive oil...

Full of mellow fruitfulness,
the oaky richness of marsala

and the sweet smelling woodiness
of thyme, my chicken with red grapes

manages that rare and wonderful
thing, which is to be elegant

and cosy at the same
time, which makes it just right

when the nights are drawing in.

The chicken I'm
using are supremes,

and a supreme is the
skin-on chicken breast

with the peg
bone still attached,

and that bone makes
the chicken so much juicier

and gives a lot of flavour.

I'm going to leave these here just for a
short while to help the skin get a bit golden,

and I am going to
get on with the sauce.

It's not very labour intensive.

I've got some
chicken stock there,

and I'm adding some marsala,
gloriously Amber coloured.

And it's got an almost
caramely smokiness.

And into that...

.I want some wine
tangy dijon mustard.

I'll give it a
little whisk here.

And the chicken juices
will add to this in the pan.

And now, it's so unlike me to be putting grapes
with chicken, but the thing to remember is,

in fact, what these grapes give
is a puncture of fruity sharpness.

They're not terribly sweet.
Well, not sweet at all.

And along with the grapes... I'm going
to give a fragrant scattering of thyme.

So let's see how this is doing.

Perfect. You see, they
are starting to get gold.

They'll bronze up
more in the oven.

And now, these golden juices.

I'm going to wait till the liquid
comes to a bit of a bubble.

And once the grapes and thyme are in, this just
needs to go into a hot oven for about 20 minutes,

and the chicken will
be juicy and cooked,

and the skin bronzed and crisp.

And we're off.

And hold some back to
sprinkle on later but... ah!

Such beautiful autumnal colours.

Beautiful.

Ok. Mind your backs.

Oh, it's ok to do that. Ok.

(Indistinct conversation
and laughter)

I'm going to dunk some bread
in, and I highly recommend it.

Mmm!

You know what, I'm
going to do a bit of a dip in.

Yeah. Oh, yeah. Good. Good.

It's really good.

So you can see why I call this my
sunken chocolate amaretto cake,

and it leaves a rather
pretty frill around the outside.

And I'm going to give this rich squidgy-bellied
cake a velvety dusting of cocoa.

I want it really thickly covered,
like a bitter chocolate truffle.

And underneath this powdery aztec
brown, its interior is dense and dark.

Now, actually, this cake is a twofold pleasure,
because with it comes my amaretti cream.

I've got 250ml of
double cream here,

and I'm going to
add a slug of Amber

amaretto liqueur, answering
the sweet song of the cake.

I'm going to whip this until it's
thickened, but still soft and floppy.

It doesn't take very long.

When I called it amaretti cream,

and I meant amaretti
cream, not amaretto because

I'm now going to add some
crumbled amaretti biscuits.

Oh, just crumble them in.

Like the cake, they seem to
have that balance of bitterness

and marzipany sweetness.

Fold these in, and the cream
will thicken a bit more as I fold.

They add an almost honeycomb crunch
to the smoothness of the soft cream.

And that's exactly right.

I'm going to fill up

an old favourite of mine.

And before I take this to the table, I'm
just going to add one final golden crumble.

Oh, wow! Right. Wow!

That's the sound I want to hear.

That's very eager.

That's a good thing.
Implements aren't at all critical.

Oh, you're putting it on top.

That's radical,
that's beautiful.

It looks really lovely.

Yes. I think laia's has
got everything now.

Ah.

I don't know where you're
going to put them now. Oh, ooh!

I want one on top,
I want one on top.

Right.

Yeah. Brilliant. Excellent.

I don't know what I'm doing,
I'm getting so excited. Mmm.

I like the cream. Yeah,
the cream is really nice.

I think the cream
really makes it. Yeah.

I mean, I like the cake but I
think it's with the cream that...

Could you make an
amaretto ice cream?

You can make anything you want.

Wow!

You find me in the hot spot because
I'm after a bit of fire with my food.

I have quite a
collection of hot sauces.

Now, this one is Jamaican and it, in fact,
has more of a heady sourness rather than heat,

and it's great for marinades,
so I don't need it now.

Oh, but I've got

this blueberry hot sauce, which I
thought would be tangy and fruity

when I got it,
but not a bit of it.

I mean, I consider myself something of
a fire eater, but I have to warn you that

any more than a pin prick of this - fabulous though
it is - will leave your mouth numb for a week.

But I'm making my egg tortilla pie
now, and for that, I want Sriracha.

My egg tortilla pie is so
much simpler than it sounds.

Instead of pastry, I use
soft flour tortilla wraps.

So I just want to oil the dish first,
make sure the bottom layer doesn't stick.

Help it crisp up.

And there we are.

Here is the bottom layer
just eased into the bowl.

And I've got some ham

to throw in.

But really, this
is not a recipe.

I mean, it's just something I make when I'm
too tired to cook, but I want to eat well.

So use whatever you
have lying about the place.

But the one thing I always add

are the eggs, just two,
cracked on top of the ham.

I'm adding cheese to this so I
don't want too much salt, but I cannot

eat eggs unless
there's salt on the yolks.

And now the cheese. Again,
any hard cheese you've got,

but I've got some
palate-burningly-strong cheddar here.

Just letting it fall

on top here.

It has a kind of
crystalline crumbliness.

And now, the top layer.

This makes me feel
very, very artistic.

Just brushing on to make it nice

and crisp when it
goes in the oven.

So the roof goes on.

Squeeze it in a bit.

Not pressing on the
eggs and cheese, but just

into the sides and down,

to help seal it, like
you are crimping a pie.

I've got some oil left, so i'm
going to give a bit of extra here.

That will go really crunchy.

Now it thinks it's a pie, it also thinks a bit
that it might be a pizza so, more cheddar on top.

And because of the crumbly
texture of this particular cheddar,

I will get some lumps falling off as well as
these ribbon flakes, but that's just fine by me.

A bit more artistry coming up...

The all-important hot sauce.

Jackson pollock it in.

Well, that wasn't exactly work,

and now all it needs is about
15 minutes in a hot oven.

Mmm! A crisp crust, soft-yolked
eggs, salty ham and melted cheese...

It's got my name on it.

Captioned by
ai-media ai-media. TV