I love Nigella. I've got all the books, I've seen all the shows, and I've cooked all the classics, from ham in coke to turkey in a bucket. I've even attempted the eyeliner. (Turns out it only works on eyes that are sleek and almond-shaped, rather than squidgy and round like a Mini Babybel.)
Sure, there have been some disasters. Christmas 2012 was almost ruined when I messed up the fir tree bundt cake, despite having bought in the special tin and everything.
"I've burned the bundt," I told my husband.
"It doesn't look burned," he said. "It looks like a perfectly nice chocolate cake."
"It's not a chocolate cake," I said, and he backed slowly out of the room.
But I tanked some icing sugar on it and took a picture anyway. It sat there for the whole of Christmas. I quite liked having it around, looking pretty, being totally inedible, and reminding me to tell guests about the latest ludicrous thing my husband said.
I've made dozens of Nigella recipes over the years, and that's the only one I can think of that was a total disaster. Apart from the crème brûlée that came out like an eggy sandcastle, but that's because I was 23 and didn't realise there was a difference between granulated and caster sugar, and was too pissed to care, or Google it. Also it was 2001 and there was no Google.
The point is, Nigella's recipes work. Yes, some of them do involve trying to find a bucket big enough to put a turkey in or driving to Waitrose to buy pomegranate juice. But tons more are super quick and easy.
In fact, my favourite Nigella recipes are the ones that aren't really recipes at all - more life hacks. For example, I always have gnocchi in the fridge, because I like knowing I am never more than two minutes away from being able to eat some potato. But my husband doesn't like them boiled, because he finds them claggy and dull, and is deliberately trying to annoy me.
In Kitchen, Nigella explains you can cook them like mini roast potatoes in 20 minutes - just the right amount of time to grill an organic chicken breast and steam some kale (stick on some nuggets, open a tin of baked beans and drink a glass of Merlot while doing a Google image search for Benedict Cumberbatch.)
Nigella also introduced me to my favourite cocktail. No messing about with shot glasses and shakers - splash a bit of fresh lime in a glass and top with Asti Spumante. Properly delicious. Nigella says it's a Christmas cocktail, but I've been drinking it all summer and feeling really bloody festive.
A word of warning: if you're thinking of getting one, certain people will say to you, "I've already got a rice cooker - IT'S CALLED A SAUCEPAN! HA HA HA!"
Let it go. These people are dicks. They don't speak Nigella. They probably also once said, "Why would I want E-MAIL when I have perfectly good FAX MACHINE?" They almost certainly don't have to cook a meal for several people every night, one of whom is regularly late because of the tube and one of whom will only eat white things.
The point of a rice cooker is that you chuck the rice and the water in and forget about it. No faffing about with lids and temperatures and draining and timing. Having produced perfect fluffy rice, the machine will keep it warm for hours. It doesn't matter if Toy Story 3 still has 10 minutes to go, or you have to stop cooking the curry to change a nappy, or you decide to cook something else because you don't fancy curry because you just changed a nappy.
Fuck saucepans, basically.
Who knows what genius shortcuts it will contain? Perhaps we'll find out how to cook grouse in a microwave or make fondue out of Dairylea. I can't wait.
A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies. Come see us perform live at Camp Bestival, July 31st - 2 Aug.