Since it’s been suddenly so hot here, we’ve all been a bit more active at night than usual. And during the day, we’ve been sprawled on the couches watching a bit of the Food Network – the Canadian one, but we do get a lot of American shows. Doesn’t matter, we snark ’em all.
Like Paula Dean. I love her, Sarah can’t stand her, and we count the number of times she mentions a loved one. Can y’all tell me if southerners really do put that much butter on every single thing? Seriously, if we watch later today and she deep-fries a butter-mayo mixture wrapped in bacon I would not be in the least bit surprised.
But we pick on Canadians too. Like Chef at Home. Yesterday, he said flavour THIRTY-SIX times in one episode. Love his food, LOVE his kitchen in P.E.I., especially the pantry. But dude, back off on the “flavour” and the hand gestures. We DO love his cooking though.
We keep threatening to play non-alcoholic drinking games. Loser is the first one who has to run to the bathroom.
One of the most jaw-droppingly bad shows we ever saw was This Food, That Wine. I know people use phrases like “food porn” or “wine porn” to describe really vivid and excruciatingly detailed events, but in this show’s case, it really is like watching porn. The close-ups of mouths, the moans, the bow-chicka-wow-wah soundtrack. Complete with cheesy lines.
We also used to watch a lot of Ricardo and friends because he is hysterical. Probably unintentionally. Then they moved his time slot. Later at night we watch Restaurant Makeover, and we all love Igor the handyman. Maybe this is a sign of Canadian television, because I know if it were an American show, it wouldn’t be Igor with an eastern-European accent and he’d have huge muscles, a tan, white smiley teeth and tight tshirts.
Nah. Igor gets mad at the designer, yells at them, rolls his eyes and stomps off with a few BEEPS in heavily accented English. Usually wearing long sleeves, gloves, huge overalls and maybe a toque. After that, if we’re still up we might watch Iron Chef America. At the very least, Emma and I hang on long enough to find out the “secret” ingredient before we head up to bed.
Last night while we watched, the big girls had Iron Chef Lakeville, and they both made carrot soup in two variations. I think we have to judge later. One was creamy, one was more potato-ey.
My life is so hard. (Why yes, it IS nice to have two teenage daughters cooking in the kitchen without one bit of help or supervision from me.)