Watching reality television can be a little too real...

Just Passing Through

I love watching reality television shows. My favorite is Project Runway where the designers whip up an evening gown from four yards of lace and a deconstructed fire hose. I love cooking contests, glass blowing contest, and lately I’ve enjoyed watching decorators come in and make someone’s home glow with Christmas lights, greenery, and enough fake snow to cover the Washington Monument.

I realize that if I were given four yards… or even forty yards of lace, I could not “whip up” a dress in twenty-four hours. Given three weeks… and a professional tailoring assistant… I might be able to get an A-line dress with a nice lining and a reasonably inserted zipper. However, “reality” sank in, and I decided I might as well just be satisfied with being the audience.

The cooking shows are another story. For example: the glorified cheesecake comes to mind. I watched the same episode four times, then I decided I could master a cheesecake. Of course, I cheated a little. I got out the cookbooks, did a little YouTube video research, and found a brochure in the bottom of my Instapot pressure cooker box. I decided to go with the Instapot method… faster results. I followed the instructions, paying special attention to the part about getting the ingredients to room temperature, bringing the water in the bottom of the pot to a rolling boil, and putting my spring form pan in a foil sling before closing the lid.

No sitting on the sidelines here. I made that cheesecake, and it turned out just fine. Four days of slouching on the couch, two hours sorting out all the ingredients, and twenty minutes watching the Instapot count down, led me to the last step. That last step was the hardest… keeping my spoon out of the warm cheesecake until it was completely set, which took two hours on the counter and eight hours in the fridge.

I came up with a delightful seven-inch round of cheesecake that would feed twelve people if they had shared a medium turkey, three gallons of dressing, a large casserole of green beans and canned onion rings, and a very small bowl of cranberry jelly. The small slices of cheesecake were enhanced by a generous glob of cherry-pie filling. Those still hungry got an extra serving of the pie filling.

The cooking experience was so successful, that I made another cheesecake a few days later. The only problem is that I live alone, and left-over cheesecake kept calling my name. I’ve had to buy two more cans of the pie filling just to top the new cheesecake. What else could I do? I pushed the scales under the couch and got a larger spoon.

So, I’ve decided to limit my reality television. Glass blowing is out of the question. The people who compete in that venture work under brutal conditions. They lift heavy weights, twirl poles around with blobs of glowing glass dripping from the ends, and they sweat. Lord, they sweat. Not me. When I sweat, I chafe. When I chafe, I’m not fun to be around. So, no glass blowing… even on television.

It’s a little late in the year to get into decorating for Christmas, so I’ve stopped watching the shows. After all, I can’t find the materials. Walmart is putting up the lights and getting out the Valentine candy, so I guess that can be my project for next year. The sales will start soon, and I’ve got room in the garage for a couple of bales of fake snow.