the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

that sucks me in?

They don't even have to be seriously stupid, like the one I'm sitting in front of right now, where they hand out aprons that are connected so as to give a new pair of chefs an extra challenge in preparing a masterly meal together, sharing hands. I'm happy to watch chefs just do their thing. They are blackbelts in the kitchen, and watching them work is artistry in motion.

Plus, it gives me great ideas of award-winning dishes to whip up with the aging celery, the month-old yoghurt, the green tomato, and the leftover soy milk in the fridge when there's nothing interesting in the pantry.

I swear, these guys are kitchen McGuivers. You remember this hero from 80s TV? The guy who could make a controlled-detonation bomb with a shoebox, a gutted ballpoint pen, an empty milk jug, stump water, and a light bulb? Yeah. So watching chefs on TV is something like that. You give them a dead fish, a chunk of cauliflower, and some radishes and in a few minutes, they produce a lightly-grilled filet with origami radishes in the shape of cranes for garnish, and cauliflower florets lightly broiled in blueberries. The whole meal is presented beautifully, and isn't enough to feed a parrot.

I don't know about you, but when I cook, I'm looking for a way to use everything. Take fish, ferinstance. The entrails can be boiled, lightly grilled, then chopped into giblets for a light gravy. The scales make a lovely garnish around the edge of the plate (much like chefs will waste your fudge on desserts these days). And the bones can be included in a small bowl for after-dinner toothpicks. Chicken? Boil that baby then puree it in a blender* for an amazingly creamy soup. Tofu? You needn't do anything to it; it's already an unrecognizable gelatinous mass.

* Don't bother removing the bones. Calcium.

Moreover, my servings will make you wonder how you might get some back into the bowl without me noticing, because it's rude to leave it on your plate but if you eat it all you just might pop.

You know how they have shows called Real Housewives of New Jersey and such, which feature a bunch of skinny spoiled women who are anything but housewives? We need to get rid of these time-wasters and bring in something edgy and excellent, like Real Housewives of East Texas Trailer Parks, where the cattiest one's husband just got a promotion to night manager at the local Taco Bell so they upgraded to a doublewide. Meanwhile, her young neighbor's husband is now on house arrest with an ankle bracelet because he tried to steal a chain saw from Walmart's gardening center. I want to see how these women dress. I want to hear them talk. Our world is filled with drama, and the lower the economic class, the more naturally soap-operaish the drama is. Why don't they do this, then?

My guess: They can't fit all that camera equipment into trailer houses.

But what am I saying? We already have that Dogg the Bounty Hunter thing which is just another "Rednecks on Parade" show, not unlike one I'm unsure of the name of,* but amounts to a bunch of rednecks with far too much time and money doing incredibly dangerous things.

* Whatever it is, they should call it Hey Y'all! Watch 'iss!.

So I want a cooking show for people like me. Instead of the judges presenting them with fresh vegetables and fruits and exotic ingredients to combine, I want them to select three trashy homes and introduce them to three different refrigerators and pantries. They must cook a good meal with whatever they find there using only the cooking utensils and stoves/ovens they find there. They'll race in and find a refrigerator full of Black Label, five cans of Spaghettios, half a gallon of milk, an iffy piece of broccoli, and half of a Snickers bar. They'll fire up the stove only to learn that only two of the burners work. There is no fancy non-stick pan, either; it's just a cast iron skillet, two smallish pans with oatmeal irretrievably cooked to them, only one of which has a lid, and the teaspoon measure gone because the garbage disposal ate it. The kitchen is only large enough to take one step in any direction, and there's a large dog flopped nonchalantly underfoot waiting to be tripped over, stomped on, or accidentally fed--whichever comes first. The spices are of all shapes and sizes, and include a couple of "mystery spices" whose labels are indistinct; these spices, moreover, are crammed into a cupboard where only the front row is visible.

Do something with that and I'll be impressed.

d