Top Microwaver

As summertime wanes, I find that on occasion there are evenings that pass without the TV ever being turned on -- an act (or non-act, I guess) which, if committed in my Home of Origin, would have been grounds for an immediate call to the Primary Care Physician (actually, we didn't have a PCP in those days, just a "doctor". Who was a guy wearing a white coat who had been to medical school, and who on occasion could actually be persuaded to come to your house. But, seemingly inevitably, I digress).

A high percentage of the time it is on, you will find it tuned to SNY, the television home of the Mets -- with the sound down, so as not to assault the ears of the more baseball-averse among us. But on Wednesdays, even in the late innings of a close game, when the digital clock reaches 4 digits, the channel is always changed to Bravo for this week's installment of Top Chef.

This despite the fact that my program choice elicits scarcely more enthusiasm from the rest of the family than baseball. No, it's all about me; I'm not even entirely sure why, but I do love me some Top Chef.

It's not an enormous surprise; I have a documented fondness for what might be described as the higher class of reality shows -- that is, the ones where people must demonstrate some sort of ability. Still, my predilection for TC is a bit peculiar in light of the fact there's no way I'd ever eat anything they make.

Top Chef dishes are always filled with (to me, at least) esoteric ingredients from all over the world in unpredictable combinations. Any one of them would violate my First Law of Food: I never eat anything that has to be explained.

This belief is also tested spectacularly by our yearly purchase of the Entertainment Book. Since I love to eat, and avoid cooking, and practice frugality, the E-Book is a perennial in our household. I always more than get back the yearly fee in savings -- although left unasked is the question of how many of those outings would have been eschewed entirely in the absence of an opportunity to "save money".

There's a section of the book that's printed on heavier paper, with fancier fonts and so on down the line. It's called the "fine dining" section, and it's filled with all the places that serve Top Chef-ish fare. There's a printed Menu Sampler for each venue, including prices calculated to give someone of my philosophy more than a moment's pause (or even worse: "Market Price", which I suspect is menu-ese for "How much have you got on you?").

Mind you, I can be induced to crack open the billfold for good value. I can pay the price when it's warranted... but it never comes to that, because it's the menus themselves that frighten me away. There are just some words I never want to see on a menu:

• reduction
• demiglace
• fennel
• balsamic
• confit
• chutney

and other words I really, really like to see:

• fried
• pan-fried
• deep-fried
• cheese (or even better, "cheeses")
• Alfredo

I'm just not bred for the gourmet experience; I'm more at home with Friday's or Applebee's (or for that matter Pizza Hut or KFC (mmmm, fried chicken)). We went out to dinner recently for our 20th anniversary. She got dressed up in the Little Black Dress and heels -- "expensive restaurant" written all over her. We ended up at a BBQ place called Everglades. The food was delicious... although we were seated at a picnic table, under a tent (no candlelight!). She didn't sprain an ankle walking across the grass, fortunately, but she was a little taken aback at the ambience, approximately 1.5 steps up from the snack bar at the Little League field.

It's no different at home. I am the Top Chef around here, more or less by default; I enjoy cooking but I'm never going to be trolling through gourmet markets or devouring (so to speak) the latest cookbooks. I've always believed that the four basic food groups are meat, pasta, cheese/cream/butter, and frozen food.

OK, so my repertoire is somewhat circumscribed. Truthfully, if it were up to me, I'd probably rotate somewhere around 15-20 dishes, none of which require poaching or mincing, or fresh mint, or cilantro, or shiitake mushrooms. And if I were cooking solely for myself, I could probably alternate my favorites (chicken BBQ; Tortellini Alfredo with Chicken) every other day, mix in the occasional dinner out for a steak or a pizza, and be completely content.

At least for 6 weeks or so ... as I understand it, none of those menu items is available in the CCU (nor, for that matter, the CTU).

I'm probably fortunate that I'm not cooking for one; my kids prevent me from doing meat 7 days a week, and my wife prompts me to mix in some fruit or vegetables once in awhile. I think I've brought my menus a little closer to balanced... at heart, though, I'm still deeply suspicious of anything that contains ingredients.