The Great British Baking Show

I am obsessed!! My family is threatening to hide the remote from me. I have been binge watching all three seasons, over and over again, for the past two weeks. And now Netflix has added another version of the show. This one shows the judges, Paul and Mary, making the baked goods they were testing the contestants on. OMG!! How am I ever going to accomplish anything when I know they have added this?

This show is the best! These people can bake anything! I have never heard of most of the items they are creating, but man oh man! I would love to try them out!! My mouth waters just watching them create these beautiful meringues, decadent chocolate cakes, soufflés, home made breads & rolls! I want to try my hand at a Swiss roll with homemade jelly in the center. I watched them do this on the show and I was ready to jump up and head to the store right then and there. J- said no. He was right. It was almost midnight and I had a busy day planned, so baking all night would have been a bad idea. He said to plan it for a weekend when he is home to help chase the girls. I really do not want Q- getting burnt on a hot oven while I am baking.

So many desserts, so little talent in the kitchen. I can bake just about anything from a box. If it is more complicated than that, I will screw it up. I lack confidence in the kitchen. This has not always been the case. Growing up, I loved to bake and cook. I was always trying something new and I avoid boxed stuff. I wanted to make everything from scratch. Over the years, I have lost my enjoyment and confidence. One person I know just loves to laugh at every attempt I make. She belittles me, regardless of what I am attempting. She corrects each step I make, no matter what the recipe book says. According to this one person, it should be a crime for me to set foot in a kitchen. And a good woman will cook for her husband and teach her children how to cook as well. This means I fail as a wife and mother. Just ask her, she will tell you all about my failures. In great detail.

My dad wanted me to go to culinary school. He was always encouraging me to work in the kitchen. He always volunteered to test my latest creations. He said, “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it. I am willing to make the sacrifice.” This was followed by a wink and smile. I love my dad. I miss him. My uncle was usually the second person in line for a taste test.

My uncle lived out of state part of each year, then came home to live with us. As dad become sicker, my uncle just stayed living with us year round until dad passed. Six months later, my uncle followed him. I can honestly say, this was a huge turning point in my life. There are several reasons I left the kitchen, my children being one of those reasons. The deaths of my dad and uncle are by far the main reason I stopped. There is no one left to impress. No one left who cares what I create in the kitchen. No one left to tell me I did a good job. My husband just shrugs his shoulders and tells me “good” or “fine”. No matter what I make, there is only a shrug and one word response. I feel like crap when he does this.

Today I baked walnut, fudge brownies and a lemon cheesecake. Both are from a box. The girls love it! They have sworn to eat every last bite of dinner so they can try some of the cheesecake. Guess who is getting a double serving of veggies tonight? On second thought, skip that idea. The veggies have never been the problem. Eating the meat has always been the problem. Totally random thought, as I sit here typing, Q- is licking the TV remote. Wow!

No, I have no desire to be on a TV cooking show. And the thought of competing gives me the shakes. But I do want to cook and bake again. Maybe be just as good as I once was. Maybe be better? Who knows? Tonight I get to teach a 6 year old how to make Jell-O.