I really really can’t help myself.

Last night, a furious, frustrating, but ultimately fruitful editing session had to be interrupted for the the greatest TV event since the historic last episode of M*A*S*H;

Top Chef is back.


For fear of being referred to as a disgusting sexist pig, some near-pornographic pictures that come up when you do a Google image search for Padma Lakshmi will NOT be appearing here. Even though I love her, almost as much as I love the ladies of Ace Of Cakes.

Drama, lesbians, alcohol, souffle, and that disgusting invention of the Midwest known as deep-dish pizza came out to play. It was magical.

Which brings me to my main point…why the fuck do I watch this show? Why the hell do I love cooking shows in general and will drop everything to see if Simply Ming or Iron Chef is on? I can barely cook pasta and mostly subside by putting anything and everything that isn’t meat in a soft taco shell, throwing cheese and salsa over it, nuking it, and calling it “dinner”. Once, I managed to utilize teriaki sauce on some fake-steak with pre-cooked/frozen vegetables in a skillet, but that event was a once-in-a-lifetime happening that came together with day-old white rice and may never happen again.

I think…it’s a desire to live vicariously through Tom Colicchio and just eat delicious-looking shit while wanting to gawk at Padma Lakshmi all god-damn day. Or, alternately, it’s inspiration. I sure as hell am not gonna be able to create a some of the works of art that just end up eaten I see on these shows, even incredibly simple dishes other cooking shows whip up sans drama. I’m just not, unless real miracles happen.

But I can try…I can stretch my imagination a little bit and attempt something different on even the crap I throw together to eat, and who knows, it might even work sometimes.

So far though, not that much.

Oh, and see you assholes tonight.


About Costa

Writer. College professor.
This entry was posted in blogging, Bluestockings, books, food, random, Top Chef, tv. Bookmark the permalink.

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