I love watching “Hell’s Kitchen.” Having worked in numerous kitchens growing up, and myself having a love of cooking, I get my kicks watching Ramsey bring tears to grown men’s eyes. Granted, most of these contestants were handpicked by studio directors, no doubt under the watchful gaze of a psychiatrist, for maximum hysterics value, but it’s still fun to watch regardless.
Plus, after having lived under the tyranny of multiple drill instructors for six weeks, Chef Ramsey’s tirades pale in comparison to that of “Master Sargent Aleman” (oh ye of the state trooper hat and the gritted teeth) whose very gaze was enough to loosen the sphincters of many an 18-year-old recruit.
But it’s almost a shame really what Hell’s Kitchen has done to the art and joy of cooking. Admittedly, cooking in a high-pressure restaurant is far different from cooking for the enjoyment of it at home, but the show does little to depict the beauty of the ingredients, the smell of seared steak and onions, and the joy one gets from perfectly plating up an entire meal at the same time and delivering it to the table hot and delicious.
Which, come to think of it, is kind of like what having kids does to one’s joy of cooking.
I used to LOVE to cook, and on the rare occasion that I get to do it without a 15-month-old clinging to my leg and crying as I’m trying to one-handedly flip something in the frypan, I still enjoy the heck out of it.
But like Hell’s Kitchen, having kids means doing away with dinners that simmer patiently for an hour on the stove; instead, cooking has become this frenzied, “What can I cook that we’ll ALL enjoy” event that leaves me frustrated and dejected. In that respect, I’d take a restaurant full of parents who cook for their family, over a bunch of well-trained culinary students, to staff my kitchen any day! With these seasoned family chefs, I know that what I’m going to get may not have the freshest herbs, or the most mouth-watering Ahi Tuna available at the market that day, but you can bet that whatever we cook, it’s not gonna be raw, at the very least palatable, and by golly, if it’s rice, we’ll call it rice, NOT Risotto!
Course…there’s not much difference between Ramsey’s ranting and my kids hollering after they’ve left the table, but at least on Hell’s Kitchen, the diners are generally shielded from the noise. And on more than one occasion, as I’m trying to finish that last bite of some unusually tasty treat that I was able to prepare, as the kids come running up to me asking me something completely banal like, “Do you know why Superman wears red boots?” I’ve been very tempted to quote Chef Ramsey and say, “Pi** off!”
I’m pretty sure CareerMom would hang me up by my testicles if I said that, so I just play along nicely. Ramsey should have to cook with kids running around in the kitchen. I think it would mellow him out a bit.
Postulates & Pastimes 
A couple things:
1) This may be the first time I’ve seen the word “sphincters” used in a blog post. Bonus points for you.
2) I also think I could handle the pressure of Chef Ramsey. Not because I have some deep inner well of self-confidence, but I just don’t care very much. If I someone feels the need to scream at me because my risotto (of which I’m not a huge fan anyway) isn’t perfect, we weren’t meant to be great friends in the first place.
That is all.
RE: As a rule, I think the G.I. tract is generally under-utilized in today’s grammar! Yeah, I just keep thinking how if Ramsey ever got in my face, how I’d have a hard time not laughing at him. But then, I do have a some pretty heavy-duty experience behind me in putting up with that kind of tirade. I’ve often considered (in my dreams) of faking some weird condition just so I could get on the show, and then totally turning the tables on him and making him look like a true a**!
Sung like an Army drill song:
I cook crap and I don’t care (echo-I cook crap and I don’t care)
Baby wears it in his hair (echo- baby wears it in his hair)
MLI turns up his nose (echo- MlI turns up his nose)
CareerMom finds it on her clothes (echo- CareerMom finds it on her clothes)
Sound off (echo-sound off)
etc………
RE: My favorite was:
“I don’t know but I’ve been told (we all echo…)
“Eskimo pu*** is mighty cold!”
“Sound off…One Two”
“Sound off, THREE FOUR!!”
You’re scaring me. I cook like a pro, with fresh herbs and really complex recipes that are time consuming, Italioan, Indian, Thai, Americano, etc. So I am wondering now if my kitchen time may dwindel down to answering questions about superman and his red boots. I can clearly see how having my boy running around my ankles may put a slight dampner on that, not to mention his potential lack of interest in fine dining, or the potential inability to wait for dinner to be done. My main fear is that he might only want hot dogs for two years like I did!
Funny thing is my Lilly and I were just talking about this topic last night. And I watched two episodes of Chef Ramsey for the first time this week, I think he’s obnoxious though.
RE: I noticed cooking was one of your “hobbies.” I don’t want to scare you, but your cooking is going to be impacted; probably not so much since you just have one child, but if you expand your family any more, prepare for Prego (the sauce, not the body description).
I’ve never had a love for cooking, so my child did nothing to destroy it. On the other hand, I do love to eat…and though my imp’s pickiness, demands, potty breaks, and incessant talking make meals a little less relaxing than they once were…my love for eating has not diminished 🙂
*The last meal I cooked was on Father’s Day…before that, I can’t remember.
**I do love to bake…cookies and cakes are my thing.
RE: I am not a baker. I even have an upber-cool Kitchenaid mixer thing and I’ll be darned if my bread dough doesn’t come out slightly sticky no matter what I do.
I am terrible at cooking-microwavable meals are all I can manage. Not patient enough.
I do have a 12 year old who loves Hell’s Kitchen. I guess I don’t get the genre, but I don’t see it. I wouldn’t last 5 minutes on a television show with him. I find him unforgivably cruel, boorish, ill mannered, and rude beyond description.
Re: He IS all that and more. Even though he’s pretty personable outside of the kitchen, there’s no need for that kind of attitude IN the kitchen.
Yes I”m quite sure that Chef Ramsey wouldn’t be calling out you “f***in’ useless donkey!” if the culprits in the kitchen were kiddies…lol… 😉
Re: I still have, “Bobby” “Bobby” “Bobby” in my head from a couple of weeks ago!