As a cord-cutter, I’ve been without cable for about six years, and honestly, I’ve managed just fine—except for when it comes to cooking shows. Those are the one thing I genuinely miss, having spent countless hours glued to my screen, reveling in the culinary creations of others.
Since becoming a parent, I find myself longing for the leisurely time I once had to indulge in my favorite cooking programs. So when I recently traveled and had access to cable again, I was thrilled. My family knew what we were tuning into while getting ready in the mornings or winding down at the hotel.
During a recent trip, I found myself with ample downtime while caring for my baby, which meant I could dive into cooking shows without the usual interruptions. I stumbled upon a marathon of a kids’ cooking competition—a show I had never seen before. I expected a delightful hour filled with adorable kids whipping up simple dishes like cake pops and grilled cheese sandwiches, with one of them triumphantly winning a trip to Disney World with their family.
But then reality hit. I watched in disbelief as these youngsters scaled fish, casually tossed around terms like béchamel, and expertly julienned vegetables. Meanwhile, I was perched on the couch in my hotel room, devouring macaroni and cheese straight from the pot, ketchup and all.
With my jaw on the floor, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of inadequacy wash over me. Here were children barely tall enough to reach the counter, crafting homemade pasta and stacking cakes from scratch—all without a recipe in sight. At their age, I was waking up early to make my mom a Mother’s Day surprise from a children’s cookbook, and the only things I could muster were cream cheese, M&M’s, and granulated sugar, resulting in a plate of what I fondly refer to as Sugar Snot Balls.
The next year, I aimed lower and microwaved a chocolate bunny, which subsequently ignited a plastic bowl into flames. My early cooking experiences were filled with laughter and love as I baked cookies with my grandmother, but now, watching these kids left me grappling with the realization of my own mediocrity. They were discussing pâte à choux while I struggled to remember if I even knew how to use a cake mix.
What happened to the days when I learned cursive and the scientific method in school? Why didn’t they teach me how to crack an egg with one hand or whip up a soufflé? My mind was in a fog while these kids dazzled with their culinary prowess, and the host, Chef McJudgerson, seemed genuinely impressed.
What struck me even more was their kindness. These kids were cheering each other on, helping out when someone needed it, and genuinely upset when a contestant was eliminated. Where were the mean-spirited antics typical of reality TV? If I were on that show, I’d likely be rolling my eyes and getting into petty arguments. Yet here they were, proving they were not only talented but also better human beings than I was.
Ultimately, it’s not that I’m upset about their gifts. I’m just frustrated that they’re outshining me in a realm I considered my own. I wouldn’t dream of crashing their spelling bees or music recitals to show off my skills; they should stick to what they do best while I wallow in my own culinary inadequacies.
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In summary, watching a kids’ cooking competition left me feeling like a complete underachiever. While I reminisced about my own childhood culinary adventures, I was starkly reminded of how far I still have to go. It’s astonishing how these children not only excel in the kitchen but also showcase such exceptional character. Perhaps there’s still hope for me yet.