Tag Quality

The Price of Popcorn

Michael Leave a comment

“I’ll see your two small popcorns and raise you a medium soft drink.”

“You’re bluffing.  There’s your medium drink and I’ll raise you a soft pretzel.  With honey mustard.”

Over the past several years we’ve done remarkably well seeing all of the Academy Award nominees.  Not necessarily in the same year they are nominated, but eventually.  And we’ve done remarkably well seeing entertaining movies also.  They aren’t always the same you know.  But every so often there comes a critically acclaimed movie that ends up walking away with all the awards that we also like.  Those are the two- popcorns-two-drinks movies. And then there are those that everybody says we have to see so we do.  Usually they end up walking away with all the awards and frankly, we wouldn’t even waste the price of a box of Milk-Duds on all of them put together.

Sometimes the movies are the big hits.  And sometimes they are the big flops.  But hit or miss, we still go to see them.  And when we’re there we never go in without our popcorn.  We invite you to join us as we place value on today’s film offerings based on concession stand items.

It makes sense.  You can see a movie any day of the week, any time of the day and the price varies.  The movie doesn’t.  The winners are winners on Tuesday afternoon just as much as they are on Friday night. If it’s a dog, it barks every time it’s played.  First run, second run, it’s still either running away with it all or just running away.  Just because we have to pay $4.00 more after 4:00 it doesn’t get 40% better.  Nope, there is no correlation between the admission for a movie and how good is that movie.  So when some smarmy film critic says, “It wasn’t worth the price of admission” what admission are we to assume?

Yet with all the variances in how much a theater will charge to get you into the seat, they know their gold standard is what is so prominently displayed well before you make your way to those seats.  The concessions!  Popcorn is popcorn and it’s $10.00 for a medium one of them any show, any day, any time.  Not long ago we were at an afternoon showing of one of this year’s best picture nominees.  It was a matinee so we got in for the low, low price of $14.00 for the both of us.  Two small popcorns and drinks later, He of We had dug out another $20.00.  We were almost outraged that the snacks cost more than the main dish.  But a few weeks earlier we were at the evening showing of a movie that we enjoyed but will never have “Oscar Winner” on its DVD cover.  Admission for two?  $24.00.  Popcorn and pop for both?  $20.00.  Here we have our measure of comparison!  Not admission. 

We paid more for what was put out as fluff, marketed as fluff, and played as fluff than we did to see the award winning performance in a movie everyone has talked about since it was released months ago.  Had we watched those two movies on the opposite days and times that we did, would we have instead gotten what we paid for?  It’s too hard to tell.  Every mathematician will tell you that solving simultaneous equations went out with the IBM 200.  One variable.  Period.  And that variable is the movie.  For sure.

So here is our gold standard for clear movie worth.  If after you see the movie you first thought is, that wasn’t worth the price of the popcorn, you won’t be watching it when it comes out on your cable company’s Movies On Demand list.  Not even the free one.  On the other hand, if your initial reaction is “that was worth more than the biggest, saltiest, butteriest popcorn, I’ve ever had,” and you wish you had even more, you’ll be back next week for an encore. 

It only makes sense. The price of admission goes up, goes down, goes half-off, and gets the Entertainment Book coupon special all to put seats in those seats.  And it’s all to get you in the door. Once you’re through those doors they bring out the big gun. The ultimate money-maker. The true measure of entertainment success. Snack food!

That’s because sometimes the movie is the attraction, and sometimes it’s there just to accompany the popcorn.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Mutts That Matter

Michael Leave a comment

Were you one of the 17 bazillion people who watched the Westminster Kennel Club dog show on television this week?  We haven’t seen the actual ratings figures but it seems that at least everybody in the United States watched it.  At the very least, everybody either of us has spoken with over the past couple of days had watched it.  Why not?  Dogs are cute.  Two nights of dogs strutting their way around Madison Square Garden in the doggie version of Project Runway is indeed must see TV. 

While glued to the set for those two nights we learned a lot.  The Labrador Retriever, even though geographically challenged and originated in Newfoundland rather than Labrador, is the most popular AKC breed in the United States.  There are about 11,000 Labs registered here.  Very impressive numbers.  But the large breed was not wearing the blue ribbon when the show was over.  That went to the diminutive Affenpinscher, the breed’s first win at Westminster, beating out 2,500 entries.

There is a local animal shelter just about a mile away from He of We.  We have stopped by often to drop off a donation, ogle at the pets, or adopt a dog.  That particular shelter has adopted out over 2,500 animals last year, more than were entered the Westminster show.  About half were dogs.  That’s just one shelter.  If 11,000 registered Labs makes that breed the number one breed in the country, think of how many of America’s really most favorite dog, the Shelter Pup, there are out there.  We think they deserve a show also.

It would be a bit different from the AKC sanctioned events.  Since 80% of the dogs adopted from shelters are mixed breeds you couldn’t have standards and conformity judged.  But you could judge fun, energy, intelligence, and affection. Picture this, a round of pound puppies march around Madison Square Garden and The Cutest into the finals.  Another round of scraggly scruffies now takes center stage and The Ugliest is selected.  Other rounds pick out the Hairiest, the Baldest, the Best Trick, the Longest Nap, and the Best Dog Kisser.  Each of these seven “Group Winners” now moves on to the Best We Know final round!

Here audience participation is not only encouraged, it’s mandatory!  The crowd cheers as each group winner marches around the stage,  past the TV cameras that flash the four leggers strutting their stuff onto the Jumbotrons  And out of these, the one with the loudest crowd approval wins the coveted Blue Ribbon, a lifetime supply of Milk Bones, and the title of Mutts That Matter, the Best We Know. 

Now that’s puppy love!

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

How-ow Fake Can You Sinnngg, By the Bright TV Lights

Michael Leave a comment

The classy ones know it.  No guessing.  No wondering.  Just doing.  Aretha knows that.  The story is that when she heard about Beyonce lip-syncing the Star Spangled Banner she laughed about it.  We figure it’s because we know that she knows what’s important, what’s immaterial, and what’s classy. 

Classy is the lady who sang the real thing.  She admits that 40 degree weather isn’t ideal for singing.  Ask all those high school choral directors trying to get their charges to sing that very same song in that and lower temperatures during the last games in the high school football season.  It isn’t easy, but they did it.  So did she.  The real she.  The classy she.  It’s not always about doing it.  It’s about saying that you did when you did, that you didn’t when you didn’t, and caring why there’s a difference.

Lip-syncing controversies go back to Milli Vanilli and did they or didn’t they.  They did and had to give their Grammy back.  Probably the Archies did also.  We’re sure those cartoon characters that somehow managed to put out two Top Ten hits including a Number One single weren’t doing their own singing especially since they were cartoon characters. 

Even in our suburban world of grown up garage bands headlining Friday fish fries at neighborhood bars we can’t get away from lip-syncing.  Seems there are at least two, possibly three bands that “pack them in” at local bar-wannabe-nightclubs that can’t do it consistently without their own CDs loaded into the sound board.

So who got the class here?  There were other performances in that same 40 degree weather.  Kelly Clarkson did it.  James Taylor did it.  The marine band did it.  Except when told not to.  Classy?  Yes.  But for our money, the real class acts are those kids singing the national anthem in the cold, in front of all those other kids and parents who really just want to watch the game, go home, and have some hot chocolate.  Those are the ones who have the most class.  And you can’t fake that.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Hooked on Fonics

Michael Leave a comment

We were sitting at a bar nibbling on appetizers and reading the closed captioning on the television above it.  We’re not certain how many hearing challenged individuals use closed captions but it is a boon to the bar industry.  Anyway, we were watching the printout and wondering if they use real people with court reporter skills or computer voice recognition software.  Certainly if it is software the mistakes are understandable since English so rarely looks like it sounds.  But then again, it seems that lately it so rarely sounds like it sounds also.

It wasn’t too much before we were sitting at that particular bar on that particular day that we were sitting on He of We’s sofa watching the season’s long overdue first hockey game (we won, yippee!) and the post game show that followed.  It was during that particular post game show after that particular game on that particular day that we decided we will never ever watch that particular sports anchor again.  He couldn’t even get past the intro without stumbling over the words that marched across the teleprompter.  Remember, this was after a win.  The intro could have been, “The long awaited first game brings home a win.  Details after these messages.”  We could have come up with that!

He wasn’t one of the weekend fillers who might have been a little nervous over the extended exposure that post game anchor duty would bring to him or her.  No, here was the channel’s number one sports guy.  So we gave him the benefit of the doubt.  Perhaps he hadn’t gotten his contact lenses in the correct eyes.  Perhaps the teleprompter went on the blink and translated everything into Latin.  So we waited until after these messages to hear the recap of the game we just spent three hours watching.  Three “ahs,” four “umms,” one complete stoppage in the middle of a sentence, and a feeling he was seeing the video clips for the first time were enough for us to change the channel, never to go back when he is in front of the camera. 

The only task this man had to do to perform his job, one for which he is quite handsomely recompensed, was read.  He didn’t have to write the copy, he even didn’t have to understand the copy.  He only had to read it.  And he couldn’t pull that off.  Was he blinded by new spotlights?  Were his contacts really not in correctly?  Was he as drunk as the post game interviewees appeared to be?  Was he completely clueless about hockey?  We’ll never know.  And now we don’t even care.  Although we do often wonder why the post any kind of game interviewees all seem to be drunk as lords.  But that’s a post for another day.

This whole event reminded She of We of a telephone solicitor who called her and then couldn’t get her name right.  She of We has a very simple name.  It has only six letters in the perfect ratio of vowels to consonants.  It is a classic English-speaking American name.  Yet not only did the solicitor not pronounce it correctly, when She of We brought this to the solicitor’s attention, she became arrogant and demanded to know why she was being disrespected when she was just trying to do her job.

There aren’t that many jobs where all you have to do to execute them successfully is to read out loud.  You’d think if you got one of them, you’d take a little time to, umm, practice.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

Real Restaurant Rules

Michael 3 Comments

It’s not often that we invoke actual rules for Real Reality Show Blog readers.  After all, real reality is what you make of it.  But last year was not a banner year for eating out.  We saw poor behavior by almost every facet of the restaurant industry from cooks to coat check attendants.  It was on New Year’s Eve that we finally had to say, “Somebody has got to take control here.”  And those somebodies are us! 

Last summer we found out that if we walk up to a hostess stand and there are three or more workers there, we should turn around and walk away.  We’re not certain but we think that two of the three may have been on their cell phones with each other.  Whatever they were doing they weren’t working on seating the next party.  Since there was then a lack of available seating there seemed little else for the hostesses to do.  Folding linen, polishing flatware, bussing tables, doing anything would have been preferred over just standing around in front of potential patrons waiting for a place to sit.  A tip for the front of the house.

Just a few weeks ago we found out that if you can smell the garlic as you are walked to your table, don’t order the scampi.  We did but She of We did anyway.  It wasn’t all that bad.  Sometimes it’s good to sleep on the couch.  And more and more we need to ask if al dente when applied to vegetables is a code word for raw.  It confuses our mouths when the broccoli is hard and crunchy and the pasta is slightly over done in that not quite mushy manner that happens when you over re-heat what you prepped earlier in the day.  A couple tips for the back of the house.

But by and large, our most disappointment came at the hands of those into whose hands we put our dining experience, the servers.  We’ve tried hinting.  We’ve left a tip here and there.  We’ve held tips back here and there!  We think it’s time for rules.  Real rules for restaurant servers.

                    Rule Number 1.  Tell us the specials when you greet us.  We hate when we are seated, given menus, asked for drink orders, finally decided what we want to eat and then have our server say, “Let me tell you about this evening’s specials.”  You can tell us but either we’re going to not listen because we want to remember what it is we decided on from the menu or you’re going to have to go away again while we reconsider our choices. 
                    Rule Number Next.  When you take our order would be a good time to tell us the chef’s favorite, your favorite, or if there is something everybody has raved about that evening.  It was at our New Year’s Eve dinner at a very fine restaurant with normally very fine food and service that our waitress insisted on telling us what she likes to eat for each course AFTER each course was served.  By the time the dessert menu came out we thought about just having her order for us.   
                    Rule Number Next and a Half.  Please taste what you serve.  Although we appreciate the honesty of “I don’t know, I never had it here,” we don’t appreciate the lack of attention to detail that you wouldn’t want to know everything there is to know about the food you serve.   We watch all the cooking shows but we still don’t know all the jargon or even all the food.  Is broccolini a pasta or a vegetable.  Or is that boccone?  Bocconcini is the pasta?  You can help us.  Robert Irvine would be proud of you.
                    Rule Number the One After That.  Pay attention to the table’s flow.  If we are still working on our appetizers, do not bring out the soup.  It was around Thanksgiving when the last thing we wanted was more turkey.  So we ambled over to a nearby Italian restaurant where we had the ultimate plan.  A smokey fonduta, a classic Caesar, some decadently cheesey pastas, topped off with a course of zeppole.  Heaven.  What we got was our salad first, the appetizer and entrée together, and we left without ordering dessert.  There is a rule (and not ours) that never should new plates be served until old plates are cleared.  Unfortunately like most speed limit laws that seems to have turned into a suggestion.  We were even willing to ignore the fact that the waitress reminded us at each table visit that it was her first night.  We’re actually the perfect couple to break in new staff.  We’re very low maintenance, rarely order off the menu, and generally tip well.  Then there are those times when even we can’t turn the lifelong served one into a number one server.  
                    Rule Next to the Last.  Know why you stopped by.  We are convinced that most wait persons have no idea why they stop back after serving a course to ask if everything is ok.  Well, that’s the reason.  It’s not to see if we’re enjoying ourselves.  It’s an opportunity to confirm that what we were served is prepared properly and as we ordered it.  The question should be, “Is everything as you expected?”  If you get the urge to tell us that you thought we’d enjoy it even though you always have it with chicken, please see one of the rules above. Something up there covers that.
                    Rule Last.  When you bring us our check and we decide to pay in cash don’t ask us if we want change.  If you were working at the mega mart and someone handed over a wad of bills for their groceries would you ask if the shopper wanted change?  Assume we want what is ours.  If you feel you have to say something, say, “I’ll be right back with your change.”  If we decide to share some of that with you, we’ll let you know.

So for the waitstaff workforce out there, there are our tips for you.  No, not tips, not advice, not veiled hints.  Those are our rules.  There aren’t hard to follow and those who do will be richly rewarded.  We have some favorite servers we don’t even wait for change from.  That’s a rule too.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Cleanliness is next to the scrambled eggs

Michael Leave a comment

Regular readers know we like to go out to eat.  We’ve mentioned it in more than a few posts.  Usually we also mention our likes and dislikes and usually there are more likes than dislikes.  Usually.

Recently we were at a national chain family restaurant.  To hear them say it, they are the ones who invented wholesome long before your great-grandmother thought of it.  They also invented hearty, healthy, hunger-satisfying, and home-style.  Unfortunately, they didn’t invent the dishwasher.

It was a Sunday morning, late enough that most of the after church crowd had already been through but early enough that the mid-day crowd hadn’t.  We didn’t even have to wait for a seat, and once we were seated behind the faux barn rails it didn’t take much time for us to make our choices.  And although it took a bit longer than it really needed for our choices to be turned into food, they should have taken a bit longer and washed the plates.  Yep, dirty plates.  Two of them.  Both served to She of We. 

She beckoned to the waitress and expressed concern over having to eat from a dirty plate.  At this point she had only been given one of the dirty dishes.  Waitress Lady told us that we shouldn’t be too concerned.  “They’re working back there with lots of grease you know.”  The rim of the plate was clearly soiled and She of We let Waitress Lady clearly know she’d wait for a clearly clean one.  So off it went – plate 1 of 2.  (Why is it that breakfast combinations always come on two plates?)   While waiting for a new Plate #1, Plate #2 came out and Waitress Lady hustled back to the back and was soon back again with replacement Plate #1.  Back she came just as She of We was scraping along the rim of Plate #2.  More former food residue.  “Can I have this redone also please?” and off it went back to the back.

Soon, much too soon, Waitress Lady was back again with Plate #2.  “I lifted up the pancakes and it looked clean under there so I put them on a new plate for you,” and she beamed the smile of one who had discovered penicillin.  As perhaps she had.

“Thank you,” said She of We, “but I’ll wait for new pancakes.”  (Which were remarkably tasty and fluffy when finally they did appear but that’s a whole different post.)

To make a long story even longer, after more excuses about all the grease they’re cooking with back there (there was nothing about lard on the menu but Waitress Lady has us wondering), we finally got clean plates, full meals, and a check.  The check was for the table next to ours but it was a start.

As we were on our way out the young lady working the cash register asked those ominous words, how was everything, and got to hear everything.  She of We was very polite and said the food was very good but she had to wait for all of her selections because they kept coming out on dirty plates.  And everything was a bit cold.  And we got the wrong check.  And the young lady asked us to wait and the manager was soon out and expressed his concern over our concerns with an immediate discount.

And even though it was a remarkably unremarkable meal, we’ll probably go back because we’re pretty sure that the manager was on his way to see the dishwashers.  Whether they deserved it or not, he probably gave them another chance.

And so will we.  

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Outscored, Not Outclassed

Michael Leave a comment

This week is high school football week number 7 in our part of the world.  Yes, we know.  If you check your calendar that means they started playing football before they started classes.  It’s ok.  Here, high school football (which should be capitalized but we have to draw the line somewhere) is a cross between a religion (please don’t tell the atheists) and life’s greatest lesson learned (please don’t tell the religious).  We suspect “here” is a lot of places across the country.  It’s a strange, strange thing.

We have nothing against organized competitions for high school and younger children.  As long as one can tear oneself away from that crazy notion of “everyone’s a winner” that we try to foist on the youngest ones, any kind of competition is healthy and a necessary part of growing up.  Here they not only tear away the football players from the idea that “everyone’s a winner,” they rip it apart, crush it, stomp on it, burn it, then bury the remains.

Last Friday night we were watching the 11:00 news.  She of We watches so she can be attuned to the happenings of the world.  He of We watches so he can read the football scores across the bottom scroll.  “There’s another, 41-9!  That’s the third 41 to something in single digits this week!  Woah, look at that, 50 to 2!  I bet the coach is going to have something to say about allowing a safety!  17-14? What kind of score is that?  That’s better?  Did you see that one?  64-12!”

Maybe that sounded a little more exuberant than it actually plays out.  What amazes us about scores like that is not that there are so many of them but that there are any of them.  School sports is a place to teach the children about competition and that indeed the world is a place where everyone is not a winner.  But what happened to sportsmanship?  What happened to “win with class, lose with grace?”  For the winning team it’s just another version of “everyone’s a winner” only this version is “you’re always the winner.”  It has the same end results.  We’re creating a world where these young children when they become young adults are unprepared for conflict, discipline, and getting things right because they never had to. (See Your Turn to Keep Score, Jan. 16, 2012.)

In a sound bite world He of We heard the ultimate sound bite about all of this.  In that same news cast with the scroll filled with winning scores in the 40’s and 50’s and the losing scores in single digits was one of 14-3.  The two teams are “perennial powerhouses,” one a twice in a row district champion and on a 23 game winning streak, the other the runner-up for those two years.  The winning coach was interviewed and asked what it was like after five weeks to finally have to make a decision in the fourth quarter? (Arrogance alert #1)  He responded that he knew it would come back to him “when they got to play a good team.” (Arrogance alert #2) 

We hope the players in the five teams previously beat by that “perennial powerhouse” go on to learn that not always being a winner doesn’t always make you a loser.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

 

Decisions, Decisions – and not the easy political kind

Michael Leave a comment

We’re in a quandary.  A friend, a local entertainer, an incredible talent, a vocalist who accompanies himself on the acoustic guitar played his first gig and a nearby lounge a little while ago.  He typically has played in venues that although aren’t far away, are far away enough that you check your gas gauge before you leave home for the evening. So we were quite thrilled when he wrote and told us he’d be no more than 3 miles from He of We’s driveway.

And drive away we did.  We had been to the venue twice before.  Once for a Sunday brunch they no longer do (which was very good), and once for dinner (which was beyond their capabilities).  In neither case was the service anything even approaching average.  It had been at least a year since we had been there so we were anxious to see what changes they had made.

They hadn’t.  But the evening was not a loss.  The food was bad, the service worse, but the entertainment was as first rate as we had anticipated.  We even introduced He of We’s daughter to the acoustic troubadour expanding his influence into the next generation.  The crowd was into his performance and applauded each offering (yes, we’ll say it) wildly.  But the food was so bad.  And the service was so worse.

What we will do if the restaurant brings him back on a regular basis? We don’t want to hurt his feelings not showing up when it’s not even a 15 minute drive, including lights, when we’ve driven over an hour to hear him.  But we don’t want to risk gastro-intestinal distress, possibly irreparable damage, if we have to subject ourselves to their idea of cooking once a month.  We can’t even feign enjoyment and pick our way through the one or two items nobody can screw up because those were the ones they ran out of early in the evening.  Even if they didn’t, we still have to subject ourselves to the worst service we’d seen since the Sixth Grade Washington DC Field Trip Spaghetti Dinner Fundraiser.

We suppose we’re going to have to arrange to be out of town whenever he plays there (“Oh, we wish we knew you were there this week.  We had these airline vouchers we had to use before Monday and thought this would be a good time to see Guam.”), or car trouble (“What bad luck, we were on our way when of all things we couldn’t get the hood to go down.  We thought we could have backed all the way there but the nice police officer didn’t.”), or illness (“Hack hack cough cough sneeze wheeze sneeze.  We’ll make it.  We missed your last 7 sets there.  Well, if you really think you really don’t mind”). 

We don’t know.  Maybe gastrointestinal distress once a month might be good for us.  

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

None Of The Above

Michael 1 Comment

About a week ago, She of We received a phone survey regarding the upcoming Presidential election.  Buried among other questions was the crux of the survey, and the crux of the matter. “If the election was held today, would you vote for Barack Obama or Mitt Romney?”  Why only two choices?

That’s the problem with this entire election.  This and several before.  We are presented with two candidates for a job neither has the qualifications for.  And we have to make a choice.  So here is our choice.  None of the above, but far from nobody.

In the beginning, all ballots were written, and all candidates were write-in.  Even then there were political parties but the emphasis 230-some years ago was policy, not party.  Those who voted did so for a person and his policy, not for how slick the party made their candidate sound or how incompetent they attempted to make others appear.  And when the elector determined for whom he would cast his ballot, he placed pen to paper and committed his vote to writing. 

We want to bring it back.  Not just the write-in part, but the whole thought behind the election process.  This is supposed to be our head of state.  Do we want our solver of domestic problems, our representative to the world determined by a sound bite, a hair color, a slogan, or an accusation?  We fully intend to consider all the possible candidates – everyone who has ever said at some point that he or she intends to serve the American public and then acted in a manner that reflected true selfless service.  We will fully consider our priorities for the executive process.  It probably won’t be health care, gay marriage, or who has more friends on his or her Facebook page.  It will be what affects us.  It will be probably what affects everybody if everybody would listen to themselves rather than the party campaign ads.  Then when we find who will work to our best interest, will we cast our vote.  It will certainly be a write in.

Will this really prove anything?  If two people spend a lot of time and effort and write in two very serious leaders, no, it won’t prove anything.  But if you join us we can be heard.  If you really don’t like the choices the parties have given you, then don’t vote for them.  But please, don’t just not vote.  Do your research.  Find your best leader.  Then cast your vote for your best choice.

If you can convince a few others to do likewise, then do it.  On Election Day we could have a million people, maybe 10 million people voting for a leader rather than for the less of two evils.  Vote for the greatest candidate you know.   We know we won’t all vote for the same person.  There could be 10 million different write in candidates.  But that will be 10 million people who have told the parties that we are through with their idea of electability.  We don’t need a candidate.  We need a President.  We need a leader.

If we vote like it really matters we can make a difference, and we have to start voting like it really matters.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Hell’s Chopped Kitchen Star

Michael Leave a comment

“I learned how to cook at my grandmother’s house who took us in after Mom and Pop died in the car wreck when the telephone pole fell on the car that first smashed them, then electrocuted them.  Grandma went to the community college to learn English so she could raise me and my 14 sisters and one brother who wore dresses a lot but could make the fluffiest soufflé.  And if I win today’s competition I’m going to take the $300,000 prize and buy her the stove she’s always wanted assuming I can still find a 1965 Amana and let her teach my children all that she taught me.  Even the autistic ones.”

We’ve been watching a lot of cooking competition shows lately.  But not the cupcake people.  We hate the cupcake people.  What they do to cupcakes you shouldn’t be allowed to put on TV.  Anyway, we’ve been watching a lot of cooking competitions and swearing off as many as we watch.  Why?  Because the competitions are becoming less of a challenge among those who can cook as they are now a contest of who has the bigger sob story.

We’ve always liked the Food Network show Chopped.  The premise of real chefs being dealt real but unusual ingredients fascinates us.  Most of these people are real working chefs and know exactly what to do when given chicken feet, dragon fruit, clove candy, and 20 minutes to make a scrumptious appetizer.  But now it’s not good enough to see 4 chefs, then 3, then 2 turn the bizarre into the palatable.  Now we have to ask what will you do with the money if you win.  Who would have ever thought that cooks had so many physically challenged children?  Or how many have an elderly parent yearning to see the homeland one last time?  Or how many are supporting their nieces and nephews?  We know what we’d say if someone asked us how we would spend a prize.  It’s found money.  We’ll blow it all on us.

Gordon Ramsey has to be the king of shock cooking.  We’ve come to if not love, appreciate Hell’s Kitchen because he’s not going to hold anything back. If you’re not cooking, you’re not contributing.  Leave now.  The little snippet interviews with the contestants are the best part of that show.  It gives each contestant a little face time with the camera and by extension, the viewer.  We hear how this person is a dolt, that person can’t boil water.  Petty gripes and foul mouths.  But then after the service they go to their sleeping areas and talk to the pictures or their kids, and parents, and partners and how much they love them, and love (sniff) being here, and really (sniff, sniff) want this (boo hoo).

Another of our favorite cooking contests also has Gordon at the forefront.  Master Chef.  This competition among home cooks has us wondering if the professionals on Hell’s Kitchen shouldn’t stop by the studio next door and get some pointers on, well, on cooking.  These non-professionals are very good at their limited challenges and usually work without complaining.  But even here we have the boo-hoo crowd sneaking in and has us wondering how far a blind cook can go in a kitchen competition with real knives, hot stoves, and open flames.

Not long ago we were watching one of the previous winners of Food Network Star whose show came on right after another previous winner.  And at that we were stuck. Both of the former winners with real shows who have now been on for what seems like years and have books and CDs and probably hats and T-shirts were winners when food was the competition and they left making a good promo up to the PR department.  This year’s finalists seem (emphasis on seem) to know their difference between a whisk and a dutch oven.  Could it be that after all the tears a cooking competition might actually be decided on cooking?  It could happen.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?