A reminiscence of my first attempt at becoming a TV chef
It’s amazing how much inspiration the phrase “extra credit” held in my youth. (At the seasoned age of 23 I apparently no longer consider myself a youth.) I was willing to do just about anything — so long as I received a few points to pad out my grades in return. Let’s just say that I finished a French class with a grade of closer to 115 percent than 100 percent and that I once went to a Catholic church on a Saturday afternoon and somehow became mixed up in the line for Confession until I finally explained my purpose: “Umm…I’m just here to, uh, look at the architecture. For school. Extra credit. So, uh, bye!”
The most memorable experience, however, was a cooking video I made in the 6th grade. Imagine three giggly 12-year-old girls setting out on a project about the food of Thailand armed with one video camera (operated by my older sister) and a burning desire for more extra credit. That all sounds great. Unfortunately, our recipes came entirely from an ancient library book that still referred to Thailand as Siam. Apparently all Thai people like nothing better than a glass of limeade to provide respite from the sweltering heat of their tropical nation. Also, the most authentic Thai dessert is a doughnut akin to a county fair funnel cake. I don’t know how true that is, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the book was published in a time when the people of Siam were spoken of in the same patronizing tone that one might have referred to Hottentots or Pygmies and that this food was considered a novelty enjoyed only by heathens in their natural environment.
Weird recipes aside, we forged ahead in our cooking project, choosing to parody three famous chefs. Two, if not all, of us had extremely limited access to cable television and had never even heard of Food Network. Our celebrity chef choices were few and I’ve forgotten one of them. I chose to imitate Martha Stewart, as we were filming in my kitchen. I had only a vague idea of her persona, but I knew that she liked to be in control and that she was always on commercials selling her Martha Stewart Collection products. Emily eschewed being a celebrity altogether, and instead parodied our extremely sweaty Home Ec. teacher. It may have been the pinnacle of my middle school experience to watch her lecture the camera about cleanliness while wiping her hands all over her face, in her armpits and really just about everywhere — in what was a shockingly accurate portrayal of “Mrs. Biller.”
We pulled it all together into a passable show. There was a fish sauce-spilling-incident in one mother’s car that was not easily forgotten in the summer months that followed, a decision to dye the limeade bright green so it looked “more natural” and some major editing done to remove all evidence that I licked doughnut batter off my fingers between each frying session — but we were just in it for the extra credit. This documentation of my youthful culinary ambition has been lost for years. I’ll pay to upgrade WordPress to support video the second it’s found.
What is the point of sharing this? I’m honestly not sure. Maybe it’s a plea for Rachael Ray to recruit me. I’m no good with catchphrases or keeping a cheery disposition, but I promise I’ll try not to lick my fingers on camera! Truthfully, I just remembered it while watching Tina Nordström on one of my five PBS channel. I didn’t want it forgotten for another (nearly) twelve years!
