We all eat. Most of us watch TV. Someone smarter than me decided to combine the two. I’m not talking about TV dinners, although who doesn’t love freezer-burned food with enough salt to kill a humpback? Not to mention that scalding cherry cobbler next to the ice cold mashed potatoes.No, I’m referring to televised shows about food. And in the spirit of the couch potato, I’m referring specifically to shows in which we watch other people cook instead of learning to do it ourselves, which might require more active participation than I’m willing to put forth.So as a public service to you, I’ve got a few tips in case you mistakenly think you’ve got what it takes to appear on a cooking competition show.First, stay away from the damn truffle oil. If a thousand Chopped cooking wizards before you didn’t know how to use it, then neither do you. I can’t count the number of times some unfortunate chef wannabe has said something like, “So I finished it off with a little truffle oil…” only to find themselves guillotined.I’ve never had truffle oil, but if I know that it ruins a dish, why don’t these yokels? Have they never watched the show before appearing on it? Producers should attach razor blades to the side of the truffle oil bottle. Take care of the chopping right away.Also, if Scott Conant is a judge, don’t serve raw red onions. You don’t have some magical technique that’s going to make him like them. Stop kidding yourself.Second, scallops are the best thing ever. If you get to choose your ingredients, and you have to choose a protein, and you get seventeen million dollars if you win, then make scallops. Don’t worry if you’ve made them three weeks in a row, or if two other people are doing them, too. Make them anyway!Oh, and try to wrap them in bacon. Then be sure to tell us that bacon makes everything taste better. We’ve never heard that before. Really.Third, if you tout your sustainable practices, you must talk about using the entire animal. Tell us how important that is, and we’ll tell you how cool you are. Explain your point by telling us that you even use the bones for broth. We’ll refrain from asking what you do with intestines and bladders and other things that never get wasted, but somehow never appear on a menu either.If you cut your finger while competing, don’t worry. Slap a latex glove on that severed digit and persevere. Never mind the ten blood-dripping seconds that passed between when you cut yourself and when you wrapped the wound. If there’s no blood visible on the cutting board or the food, proceed. We’ll eat and let you know later if you gave us hep-C.Now for the bad news.As you might have gathered, these shows have judges who will taste your food. That means you can’t phone it in like one of those all-star, famous, mostly photogenic chefs who create dishes that look, taste and smell great. We’re willing to believe that everything those fast-talking sorcerers of succulence cook is delicious, but we’re secretly hoping that the judges will tear you apart like a suckling pig.Before I forget, do yourself a favor and learn how to cook a dessert. Maybe more than one. I’ve watched enough cooking shows to know that most chefs think dessert is beneath them—perhaps a step above vegetarian cooking, but still beneath their skills—but if you want the big money you better channel your inner Sara Lee and figure out how to cook something sweet.Now you’re ready. Go on television and cook your Rocky Mountain Oysters off. If you’re lucky you’ll become a celebrity chef. Then you don’t have to worry about cooking. You have underlings (sous chefs) for stuff like that. You’ll be too busy selling your steak knives and mixing bowls.And if, for some unknown reason, you decide to actually cook when you become a celebrity chef, I’ll let you in on a dirty little secret that I learned directly from network executives. Viewers can’t taste your food, but they can see your personality.In other words, the food can be garbage, but you better be gold!You should subscribe to this blog, don't you think? That way you'll never forget to come back. Forgetting is bad. So why don't you just type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I'm not going to send you a bunch of junk, and you can ditch me any time you want.
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