Doe eyes, a flick of the eyelashes, a lick of the lips, and everything with added butter.
Welcome to Nigella’s kitchen – the place that she calls a pleasure palace.
Only two minutes into her new BBC2 show Nigella’s Cook, Eat, Repeat on Monday she was already “luxuriating” in her favourite ingredients, telling us about the “rhythms and rituals” of her kitchen.
As the wine bar music kicked in Nigella, now on first-name-only status, sits cross-legged in a leather armchair.
Nearby is a well-stocked cocktail trolley, a carefully arranged bookshelf, some heavily-scrawled notebooks, and tealights. I’m obsessed and it’s not even started yet.
She heads into the pleasure palace, which is dimly lit and decorated with fairy lights.
She looks gorgeous in a black dress and starts stirring things seductively.
This is not normal. Who even cooks like this?
Even the olive oil is flirting with us as it glugs into the pan, with onions sizzling.
A nation of viewers not entirely sure if they’re hungry or horny.
We all know the tantalising allure of the domestic goddess, but her lexicon of food porn words is always astonishing.
Succulent spoonfuls. A luscious pudding. Ginger with a pungent warmth.
A heat-seeking mission for mustard. Broth with a quiver of jelly. Is anyone else feeling a bit flushed?
At one point, in her larder the size of a Kardashian walk-in wardrobe, she says she’s invigorated and infused with serenity.
She flashes the come-to-bed eyes again.
I’m in such a trance that I’ll even forgive the fact that she now seems to be mashing fish fingers. Captain Birds Eye, please look away.
This one relatable ingredient is also utterly ruined because she’s not cooking them for moaning kids while wearing a stained T-shirt, but floating around in her calm sanctuary wearing a dress I’d usually save for New Year’s Eve.
There’s more culinary madness when she cooks banana skins that end up looking like the mulch left in the food compost bin. Even she can’t sell that one.
But no one actually cooks these recipes anyway, do they? We’re all too busy staring.
“There are times when only chocolate will do,” she purrs, telling us she can get through a 250g bar in one night. I don’t believe her.
How she has not been signed up as the Cadbury’s Caramel Bunny yet I have no idea.
As she tips chocolate chips into a bowl and dives into a molten dessert, we’re all mesmerised.
Nigella is not Everywoman, she is Unattainable Woman. Usually spotted indulging in a pudding at midnight in her silk dressing gown.
I might have to try it some time...
