I love cooking shows. A fact that was brought home even harder recently when I was watching JULIE & JULIA. A great movie about a woman who blogs about her experience working her way through Julia Child's cookbook.
I enjoyed the movie because it's got that whole
I enjoyed the movie because it's got that whole
"if you work hard enough and follow your bliss/passion you will achieve your dreams" thing. One of my favourite personal belief systems. I have a few, one of which is don't Google about a blog that was made into a movie because you will love the other writer's writing and decide yours sucks. So don't do that. Another reason I liked the movie was the popcorn.
A movie has to really SUCK for me not to be able to comfort myself for the loss of the ticket money ( I dissect most movies I see, the negative side of being a writer with a short attention span) with a big bag of buttery popcorn. But you MUST eat peanut M&M's at the same time, only then can you achieve sweet- buttery-chocolate-popcorn Nirvana.
But the third reason, and the reason I'm writing this post while my dog is hurling her leash and collar at the back of my head, is about my passion for cooking. Sorry, I mean cooking shows. I freaking LOVE them. I discovered the Food Network, and then Food Network Challenges, ( sometimes they have to make cakes with themes and it's the most stressful, wonderful thing you can imagine.) and Top Chef, and of course Hell's Kitchen, and Kitchen Nightmares. The latter ones being all twisted in my head with my fear/love of Gordon Ramsay and my desire to see things that are going for shit suddenly rise from the ashes.
I know lots of people like cooking shows. Big deal, right? But here's the thing. I don't like cooking. I can do it, sure, and sometimes I find pleasure in it. But it's more of a oh-yup-just-wanted-to-confirm-I-could-do-still-d0-it-kind-of-pleasure. Left to my own devices, soup with cheese and crackers does the job just fine.
Then I met the ONE--my husband. He likes experimenting with new dishes. I find making a salad annoying. He likes to use herbs from our garden. If I can buy something pre-chopped or pre-rinsed I will. He loves all the kitchen things we got for our wedding. I love all the things he makes in them. So we both accepted cooking is just not my deal. But the great thing about marriage is that you pick up the slack where the other lacks. I have my departments, but they don't require me to rinse or chop anything. Thank God.
But back to the cooking show thing. Not sure what it is, but I love watching food being prepared. I also love the kitchen departments of fancy gift stores. Husband loves the gadgets and anything that has a motor, while I tend to gravitate to all the crazy expensive dishes. I will browse for hours exclaiming, " We have to get this!" Over a cheese tray, or hard selling husband on the complete necessity of a fondue set. Without really wanting to actually be responsible for preparing anything that's going to land on those dishes.
This all works for us, though. I daydream grandiose fantasies of dinner parties and laughter with friends, then organize the event and husband does the cooking. I'm the architect and he's the structure. He's the bread, I'm the cheese. Okay, okay, I'll stop! Time to go anyway--dog's giving me some seriously dirty looks.
A movie has to really SUCK for me not to be able to comfort myself for the loss of the ticket money ( I dissect most movies I see, the negative side of being a writer with a short attention span) with a big bag of buttery popcorn. But you MUST eat peanut M&M's at the same time, only then can you achieve sweet- buttery-chocolate-popcorn Nirvana.
But the third reason, and the reason I'm writing this post while my dog is hurling her leash and collar at the back of my head, is about my passion for cooking. Sorry, I mean cooking shows. I freaking LOVE them. I discovered the Food Network, and then Food Network Challenges, ( sometimes they have to make cakes with themes and it's the most stressful, wonderful thing you can imagine.) and Top Chef, and of course Hell's Kitchen, and Kitchen Nightmares. The latter ones being all twisted in my head with my fear/love of Gordon Ramsay and my desire to see things that are going for shit suddenly rise from the ashes.
I know lots of people like cooking shows. Big deal, right? But here's the thing. I don't like cooking. I can do it, sure, and sometimes I find pleasure in it. But it's more of a oh-yup-just-wanted-to-confirm-I-could-do-still-d0-it-kind-of-pleasure. Left to my own devices, soup with cheese and crackers does the job just fine.
Then I met the ONE--my husband. He likes experimenting with new dishes. I find making a salad annoying. He likes to use herbs from our garden. If I can buy something pre-chopped or pre-rinsed I will. He loves all the kitchen things we got for our wedding. I love all the things he makes in them. So we both accepted cooking is just not my deal. But the great thing about marriage is that you pick up the slack where the other lacks. I have my departments, but they don't require me to rinse or chop anything. Thank God.
But back to the cooking show thing. Not sure what it is, but I love watching food being prepared. I also love the kitchen departments of fancy gift stores. Husband loves the gadgets and anything that has a motor, while I tend to gravitate to all the crazy expensive dishes. I will browse for hours exclaiming, " We have to get this!" Over a cheese tray, or hard selling husband on the complete necessity of a fondue set. Without really wanting to actually be responsible for preparing anything that's going to land on those dishes.
This all works for us, though. I daydream grandiose fantasies of dinner parties and laughter with friends, then organize the event and husband does the cooking. I'm the architect and he's the structure. He's the bread, I'm the cheese. Okay, okay, I'll stop! Time to go anyway--dog's giving me some seriously dirty looks.
PBS has been re-running the Julia Child shows. Heaven
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