I WANTED white Corian. My dad was not at all sure. He had suggested granite worktops for my Dennistoun flat. But then it had been decades since we'd had a kitchen put in to the family house. I had already wrestled with him over the kitchen itself; not only had I not picked the cheapest or mid-ranged units. No. Lovely Christine at the kitchen suppliers had agreed that their new, handle-free range (the Clerkenwell) would be perfect for my reasonably sized apartment. And there was a beautiful circularity there, given how much cooking I did while I lived in that part of London called Clerkenwell.

But my dad did have a point. Not only was the Corian expensive, I had heard mixed reports about how robust the white work surfaces are especially when in regular contact with an Indian spice box. Turmeric powder has an uncanny ability to spread its bold, oranginess everywhere, indelibly reminding you of your kitchen clumsiness. My next gambit was for natural wood; not practical says Dad, since it needs to be oiled and sealed at least eight times.

“Granite,” he said. Again.

“Granite,” I agreed, irritated mostly because I knew he was right.

It’s been great having my dad involved with the renovation of the flat. Occasionally it has pointed up how different our outlooks can be on life. He used to cook when we were weans; he was actually rather good. But for him a kitchen is a function within the flat. For me, the kitchen is the primary function that creates the entire flat. I will spend as much time in the kitchen as I will in my bedroom.

While my dad will still view my kitchen with the eye of a self-made man, a man who came to this country with next to nothing and did well, I need to love my kitchen. But not quite as much as some people who are currently falling in love with a kitchen that would perplex my dad, as well as me.

Nigella Lawson’s new BBC2 show, At My Table, is shot in a kitchen than has evoked a reaction more akin to pornography than pakora.

“I lust after Nigella’s trio of fat-bellied coffee pots," says The Daily Mail’s Jan Moir.

“Nigella’s shelves and worktops just groan with utter gorgeousness,” continues the smitten Moir. And she’s not the only one. It seems many are talking as much about the style of the show as opposed to the substance. The ever excellent Good Housekeeping magazine have reflected this mild obsession and "tracked down all the best items in Nigella Lawson’s kitchen and found cheaper alternatives too”.

I am a massive fan of Nigella Lawson. She is deeply talented and has an insightful and sometimes poetic way of sharing her love of food. And when making a TV show there is an understandable need to find attractive, well-lit and spacious kitchens. La Lawson has always been filmed cooking in amazing, fascinating, enviable kitchens but this new series seems to have raised the bar to an altogether more orgasmic level of production design.

I do think there is something profoundly pertinent about this bifurcation between form and function. Obviously I want my kitchen to look good but not at the expense of me being able to cook food. It breaks my heart to see beautiful food processors, copper-bottomed pans et al positioned decoratively rather than being used practically. I have been in some kitchens that have been fitted out for obscene amounts of money, tens if not hundreds of thousand pounds. They have ovens that steam, ovens that roast, ovens that bake and ovens that probably read your mind on your way home from work. They sets of seven handmade French crepe pans in gradually increasing sizes. They have American walk-in fridges that are bigger than some flats I have rented. Yet quite often these will all sit unused or under-used. What a waste.

Maybe it’s just me, but kitchens are almost always the centre of a home. Be it the ever refilled pot of tea and associated gossip, the gradually consumed cake and conspiratorial chat or the impromptu gathering that elevates a flat Friday into a fun-filled Friday, you should never have a moment to examine the interior design stylings of the kitchen. You should be far too busy eating, drinking and living life. On that, I am certain my dad will agree.