It seems like the only shows I can watch on TV anymore are the ones I’m on. And Dancing with the Stars. But that’s pretty much it.
I tried to watch that Top Chef show awhile back. Top Chef of what? I wouldn’t let these contestants cook for my Boston Terrier. The best thing I can say about the show is this: If you’re an aspiring bulimic, and you’re having trouble vomiting up the roast pork you just ate, tune into this rubbish. And have a bucket handy. Maybe a couple of buckets.
Who the hell is Padma Lakshmi to judge food? A better question might be who the hell is Padma Lakshmi?
She shouldn’t be judging food; she obviously has no taste. She married Salman Rushdie for crying out loud. I mean, yeah they’re getting a divorce, but the damage is done.
I’d still snog her, though. And her scar.
Now I don’t have much beef with Tom Colicchio. He’s an all right guy, doesn’t bother many people. He just sort of runs around opening up different outposts of his craft empire. craftsteak, ‘witchcraft, aircraft, anti-aircraft, watercraft, arts&craft. You get the picture. The only thing he seems to care about is making sure his sign is in all lowercase letters. But his show is just awful.
Over on Public Television is this poindexter Chris Kimball and America’s Test Kitchen. They make like 72 recipes for meatloaf to determine the best way to make it. I say make it nice don’t make it twice. If you know what the hell you’re doing in a kitchen, then you shouldn’t need to make 72 meatloafs. You make one. And you fucking eat it.
But this Kimball thinks he’s the Stephen Hawking of the food world. Probably read a couple of science books, throws on his bow tie and then somehow goes on tv, and - I can’t figure this part out - assumes a cocky demeanor. The product tests are painful too. They go through about 902 can openers and explain which one is best and why. By the time they’re done, I could have bitten the can open. I often do when I can’t find an opener.