I Confess

Oh, the shame. It is time for me to come clean. Bowie will not be the center of my attention this evening, even though I am still at his house. You see, it is Monday night. This summer, Monday and Tuesday evenings are the ones when it is usually my husband who loses out on my attention. Yes, I am a fan of Hell's Kitchen and Master Chef. To make matters worse, on Wednesday there is Around the World in 80 Plates. I am hooked. I don't want you to think I watch every cooking show, or that I am always watching The Food Network. If Bowie could speak, he would tell you I have been watching a lot of Discovery ID channel programs. In fact, it bothers this sensitive dog so much that he is forced to go in the other room and sleep on "his" sofa. Paris, on the other hand, will lay down next to me on the sofa and fall asleep. The spilling of human blood doesn't seem to bother her a bit, as long as it is on tv and not Mommy or Daddy.

I will be right there to watch Top Chef when their next season begins, too. It simply fascinates me to see the way these people interact with each other. And throw each other under the bus. If you watch Master Chef you know that one of the home cooks this season is blind. One of her competitors won a preliminary challenge and his reward was to choose which cooks would get fresh or canned versions of certain proteins. Thinking it was a great opportunity to get rid of his blind competitor, he chose for her to get a live crab. When she pulled it apart and the shell cut her, he was smirking and laughing and I wanted to hit him even though I am non-violent. The karma wheel was spinning, though. She won the best dish and is still on the show, but guess who isn't?

So in a short while I will be watching Gordon Ramsay yelling at the contestants in Hell's Kitchen, and sometimes speaking firmly to the contestants on Master Chef. Graham Elliot will be kind, but may also have some strong words for really bad dishes. And then there is the inscrutable Joe Bastianich (yes, he is the son of Lydia Bastianich!), who will taste the dish and just stare at the cook before turning his back on them. Or perhaps spitting it into a wastebin and declaring it unfit for consumption. I become more and more amazed at what these culinary geniuses create. They take various meats and combine them with fruits and vegetables in ways I never could think of.

Maybe one of the reasons I like these shows so much is because while I am a decent cook, nobody will ever be calling me Chef. And I will probably never have an opportunity to dine on food prepared by Gordon Ramsay or Graham Elliot, or go to one of the Bastianich restaurants. I am content to live vicariously through watching food take on a new life and personality in these cooks' and chefs' talented hands. But I can still make a pretty decent paprikas csirke (chicken paprikash), among other things, and bake cookies like there's no tomorrow.

 All or this talk of food is whetting my appetite, and Bowie has already come over to me at the computer to show me that he is weak with hunger and can't hold his head up any longer. So I guess now that I have confessed, I can see about getting something to eat. Oh, if you're wondering why I like those other programs, with murder and crime and so forth, that is a whole different story. Maybe we can share it sometime.