Ok, so to be honest, I don’t think I am the “worst” cook in America, but there is a running joke among some of my author friends that I should be on the show, “Worst Cooks in America,” where the very worst compete to become the very best of the very worst… or something like that. I think it’s just that I wander off a little bit when things are cooking, or forget to set timers, or…well. I make stuff. Good stuff. Honest.
Now, I’ll confess, I have a thing for cooking competitions, and Robert Irvine on Restaurant Impossible makes me want to open a restaurant every time I watch it. Every. Freaking. Time. Like I somehow forget what it was like to manage a full service restaurant and banquet hall.
I can’t count how many times I’ve put my name forth into the universe to judge cooking competitions. The universe has not answered. It probably knows I’m a picky eater and is trying to find the “right” fit.
I also have a secret wish that someone at the Food Network will hire me to go around in search for the perfect chicken fried steak. Seriously, I was born to do that job. Ya’ll need to start an email campaign.
I’ll give you a hint. The perfect one will have cream gravy on it, not brown.
I’ll give you another hint. My doctor is probably frowning at this glorious idea.
Let’s take a look at some key pieces of evidence that supposedly qualify me for Worst Cooks.
Yes, I have been quoted numerous times on the internet saying:
If anyone has a “in” with Food Network, remind them that I’m waiting for that call to have my own show traveling around looking for the most perfect chicken fried steak.
Anyone?
Seriously, anyone?
