The Scallops Are Raw!

I have a soft spot for cooking shows. From Martha Stewart baking a cake, to amateur chefs battling it out for a prize. I like to watch people make food. And duel in food challenges. And create stunning dishes. And be judged on their risotto. And such.

(Incidentally, one day, I really need to eat risotto. And beef wellington. And pavlova. And other dishes that I now feel ashamed I have not had.)

Caution: Too many cooking shows may result in me hearing Gordon Ramsey yell at me while I'm messing something up in the kitchen. I'm just making an omelette for myself. There's not $100,000 on the line, here. Why am I chopping green peppers in such a frantic way?

After watching cooking shows, I sometimes become inspired to "create my own dish." Because of how daring I am, this is usually something like putting peanut butter chips in the cookies instead of chocolate chips. Woo-hoo.

I like those "boring" cooking shows kind of the same way I like infomercials. They kind of lull me into a haze of relaxation and calmness. But I also get excited about the reality cooking shows. "With only thirty seconds remaining, Jenna still has not plated! And Gary's souffle just collapsed! And Andrew slices open his hand!"

This is probably an appropriate time to bring up Curtis Stone. Tee-hee-hee! Sorry, it's just that it's impossible to mention his name without giggling like a twelve-year-old girl. Thank you, Curtis Stone for making an appearance on pretty much every cooking show. Thank you for being so adorable. And for having that accent. And also, will you marry me?