I love Top Chef. Not sure why. It’s probably because I’m not a cook and never will be. I don’t enjoy it and frankly, I’m not very good at it. Yes, I can follow a recipe and yes, if pressured, I can come up with a few dishes. But, it’s painful, stressful and incredibly nerve-racking to serve it to anyone but my family.
I tell myself, “If only I had people to practice on.” You see, Mr. T. is Mr. Bland when it comes to food. I guess you could say he’s a meat and potatoes guy, but without the chives, seasonings, side dishes, garnishes – you name it. No red sauces, no pastas containing all the vegetables I love, no lasagna, no eggplant, no stuffed anything, nothing but stripped down food. So, he’s the LAST person I can try out dishes on, because he won’t even take a bite, let alone eat enough and give me an honest opinion based on some sort of sensible palate.
Then there’s my daughter. Well, for an eight-year-old she’s not as picky as some I know. But, she is eight. Special sauces and food treatments aren’t really her thing. If she doesn’t like it, she usually says it’s too spicy. To her, “too spicy” takes in several meanings that really offer me no guidance if I’m trying to perfect or even make a dish that’s passable to the average person.
So, who’s left? Well, there is the dog, but he really isn’t supposed to eat people food, whether it’s chocked full of flavor or misses the mark. And, with him, it’s all about the pursuit. I don’t believe dogs really taste. They barely chew, and the only thing he won’t eat is things that are slippery, like apples and grapes. If it’s too much work to get in his mouth and it slides off his tongue, it doesn’t pass his taste test. Everything else goes down in a flash. In fact, I made cookies the other night and there were some (about eight) still on wax paper sitting on the counter. I ran upstairs and within mere minutes came down to the wax paper on the floor and Dixon grinning from ear to ear. There is absolutely no way he even tasted those cookies, and I can assure you they were very good.
I guess when it comes down to it I love Top Chef because, well, those folks can cook, and I can’t. Pretty simple, really. They over indulge, get little sleep, bunk in close quarters, behave badly at times, have way more tattoos than anyone I know (is that a chef thing?), but I’m telling you, they can cook.
Here’s what I don’t get, though. How is it that Tom Colicchio, Padma Lakshmi and Gail Simmons aren’t each as big as a house? All they do is eat, or so it looks like. They taste dish after dish and manage to keep shoving it in. That alone is pretty phenomenal to me.
It appears that anyone that actually makes it on that show can cook, and cook very well. I know these folks haven’t just bumbled their way out of grandma’s kitchen. Many own restaurants or are executive chefs at high quality establishments. Back home, wherever that may be, I assume they’re already considered top-notch in their profession – not exactly looking to do some home cooking on the side.
It’s Top Chef in Vegas, Baby!
I guess it’s unrealistic to think that once and awhile I could get one to come over and cook a meal for me and well…me. That means I’ll have to settle for watching them on TV and fantasizing about having their skills and then actually having people to be the receiver of those skills in action.
I think my plan is to keep watching and keep being amazed by the incredible talents of the contestants. And while I don’t think it will EVER motivate me to become a better cook, – really, there’s no point unless I adopt another family – it does serve as my wonderful Wednesday night escape into other people’s reality. I can’t wait for tonight’s 10 p.m. serving.
