Two years ago, I auditioned for Top Chef. Yes, that's right, Season 5, the one where the guy who won was a professional chef from Boulder, CO. Rather stiff competition, I suppose. I was probably out of my league, but I felt like it was my big opportunity to dig myself out of an exhaustive document review and into a fulfilling new career. Well, I didn't get on the show, but it did encourage me to do less semiconductor litigation and more cooking.
I cooked for my husband, my neighbors, my friends, my colleagues, and total strangers. I steamed and roasted lobster. I baked bread, stretched pizza dough, and made bread pudding. I battered and fried chicken, al matone'd chicken, and shoved a beer can up a chicken's butt. I made homemade cheese and grew my own mushrooms. I perfected my curries and my poached eggs. I poached fish. I cooked every kind of food that came to mind. I was having fun and getting ready for the next opportunity.
Then, MasterChef came to North America, and suddenly a door opened, and Gordon Ramsey, Graham Elliot, and Joe Bastianich walked through it. They took my breath away.
And now, I will go fix myself a snack while I wait to watch the show.