It is a rare occasion indeed that I will sit down and watch television. I used to be a total TV addict, but after working in L.A., every time I turn on the tube I always think of the network execs who sit around the boardroom table, batting around ideas for shows. Based on the crap I see produced, it’s clear that they must think I, and the rest of America, are complete idiots. This makes me angry, so I don’t watch T.V. anymore.

However, there is one show that, despite my antipathy, I always enjoy watching: Iron Chef. I’ve been watching the show since its early days in Japan, but a couple of years ago the Food Network picked it up and made their own version for American audiences. For those of you who haven’t seen the show, two accomplished chefs are presented with a secret ingredient and then have an hour to create a multi-course meal featuring that that ingredient in every dish (example: grapes). Being someone who loves cooking, I love watching the chefs at work; the things they come up with are absolutely amazing. Being a food addict, the show is what I affectionately term “Food Porn”. Considering the multitude of foods I am unable to eat, an hour in front of “Iron Chef” is a good as a hit of crack. But that’s just me.

Anyway, Shuie and I watched the American version of the show last night and it was just as mouth-watering as ever. But while I was indulging in food fantasies I was also cracking up at how dramatic they make the show. Spotlights, dramatic music, intense close-ups and spirited commentary (think the last two minutes of a basketball game); it makes you feel like the person who loses is going to be taken outside the studio and shot. By the end, I wanted to rename the show, “Cook for your LIFE!”.

This, by the way, is the essence of American entertainment. Everything is the biggest DRAMA. I can’t help but wonder if maybe that’s why a significant number of women are terrified of giving birth; you watch an episode of “A Baby Story” and it looks like they’re in the middle of a war zone. Turn on the news and they’ll tell you a kitchen fire is really a massive meteor coming to destroy the planet. I don’t know about you, but I find real life dramatic enough; I don’t need manufactured drama to make me crazier than I already am.

That said, it’s time to make Shabbos dinner.