How to Eat by Nigella Lawson Read Free Book Online

magic ingredient. But we all panic in the kitchen from time to time, so here is a useful, broad-brush reminder of desirable proportions for various dressings.
    PLAIN SALAD DRESSING
    I sometimes think the best way of dressing salad is to use just oil and lemon juice. The trick is to use the best possible olive oil—and as little of it as possible—and toss it far longer than you’d believe possible. Use your hands for this. Start off with 1 tablespoon of oil for a whole bowl of lettuce and keep tossing, adding more oil only when you are convinced the leaves need it. When all the leaves are barely covered with the thinnest film of oil, sprinkle over a scant ½ teaspoon sea salt. Toss again. Then squeeze over some lemon juice. Give a final fillip, then taste and adjust as necessary. Instead of lemon juice, you can substitute wine vinegar (and I use red wine vinegar rather than white, generally), but be sparing. Just as the perfect martini, it was always said, was made merely by tilting the vermouth bottle in the direction of the gin, so when making the perfect dressing you should merely point the cork of the vinegar bottle toward the oil.
    As important is the composition of the salad itself. Keep it simple: there’s a green salad, which is green; or there’s a red salad, of tomatoes (and maybe onions). First-course salads may be granted a little extra leeway—the addition of something warm and sautéed—but I would never let a tomato find its way into anything leafy. For more detailed explanations (genetic as much as aesthetic) of this prejudice, please see page 197 . When you’re using those already mixed packets of designer leaves, you should add one crunchy lettuce like romaine, which you buy, radically and separately, as a lettuce and then tear up yourself at the last minute. Herbs—parsley, chives, chervil, lovage—are a good idea in a green salad (and you can add them either to the salad or the dressing) but, except on certain rare occasions, I think garlic is better left out.
    BASIC FRENCH DRESSING
    If you want to change oils for this, use part walnut or hazelnut oil, part olive oil. Don’t replace the olive oil totally. Just a tablespoon of the nut oil plus olive oil should achieve the variation in flavor that you are after. If you want to change vinegars, do so uninhibitedly, but taste first to check the level of acidity and adjust the other components correspondingly.
    scant ½ teaspoon Dijon mustard (optional)
    2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
    1 teaspoon sea salt
    good grinding black pepper
    6–8 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
    If you’re using the mustard (and I sometimes use a tarragon mustard—feltily green and lightly, rather than effusively, fragrant—and sometimes none at all), mix it in a bowl with the vinegar, the salt and pepper, and a drop or two of cold water, then whisk or fork in the oil (I often use Ligurian, which is sweet and mild). Or you can put all the ingredients for the dressing in an old jam jar, screw on the lid, and shake.
    Put most—but not all—of your salad leaves in your salad bowl and add the dressing. Toss. Taste. If you find you have sloshed on too much dressing, add the spare leaves and toss again.
    CAKES
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    We no longer live in a world where baking a cake is considered a basic skill. That, one could argue, is reason enough to include a recipe here. And I don’t mean a fancy cake, but just a plain, ordinary sponge.
    VICTORIA SPONGE
    A traditional Victoria sponge is made in two halves that are sandwiched together with jam or crushed fresh raspberries and cream (and don’t forget to sprinkle the top of the cake with superfine sugar later).
    I make this cake in the processor. Realizing you can make a cake without all that creaming first is a revelation. Without the beating, however, you don’t get all that air into it, so you have to add some extra baking powder. I don’t always sift the flour, but I probably ought to. I have found that the addition of cornstarch