Actually, my kitchen doesn’t suck all that much except for that long agonising pause between the menfolk creating culinary magic and cleaning up the utensil carnage that follows. Its the time when our family kitchen becomes the dreaded black hole, sucking up all the household manpower to return it to it’s natural state.
“My Kitchen Sucks” is the name given by my early teen son to a current television show airing here called “My Kitchen Rules” or “MKR” for short. MKR is ostensibly a cooking show in which teams of two fight it out in various tests and challenges to display their culinary skills. Every so often two teams have to take part in a sudden death cook-off in which one of the teams is eliminated. At those times, the show gets very intense, even more intense than some of the dishes that are created. MKR has been airing four nights a week for the past month or so and its ratings are soaring.
For all sort of reasons, MKR is riveting. The factors pulling me in to watch it night after night are, in order:
- the mix of personalities appearing on the show
- the incredibly hot French accent of Manu Fieldel, a French chef and judge on the show
- the interaction of the said personalities both within teams and between teams
- Manu’s French accent
- the tactics and brown-nosing to which some contestants resort to stay in the game
- then there is of course, Manu’s French accent
- the food
- did I mention Manu’s French accent?
In short, the show is a fascinating study in human and not so human behaviour. I generally don’t watch much television, so the fact that I religiously make an effort to watch MKR four times a week is eye opening!
Our family has taken to watching the show together, because it airs in prime time. When I say watching the show, I mean that all family members are in the one room and look to be facing the operating television set. I am assured by the teenage members of my household that having a computer screen and a keyboard between them and the television screen only enhances their concentration and enjoyment of watching the show.
In the minutes before the show commences, the family gathers and assumes their positions. Its at this time the teenagers start their cacophony of complaints which I am tempted to set to music – it’s just so lyrical. “Are you really going to watch My Kitchen Sucks, again?”, “You don’t understand, NO-ONE at school watches it” and the ever present “Can’t we watch something else?” To which I dutifully respond “ Yes”, ”hmmm” and “no”.
Recently, I unexpectedly had to spend a night away from home. I thought this would provide much needed relief to my long suffering teens by presenting the opportunity for an MKR-free zone. The circumstances were such that I could still watch the show that night and as I did I wondered what the teens would be instead watching during their emancipation. The show ended at 8.30pm. By 8.35pm, I had a text from my eldest teen “Mum, T and C got eliminated from MKR…. did you watch it?” The irony in those few words and the timing were delicious.
And my take away (no pun intended) from this incident? First, opportunities for bonding arise in the most unexpected and sweetest of ways and second, I never met a French accent I didn’t like.
Bon Apettit dear readers!