Croissants, Everything is Illuminated, and the Great British Baking Show
Since high school, I've loved reality cooking shows. Trust me: the best medicine for your self-esteem after failing a test is watching Gordon Ramsay call someone something that the censors have to bleep out so much it's barely comprehensible over bad risotto. It puts things in perspective, to put it lightly. I watched more episodes of Chopped than I care to admit through college, scaring freshman out of the newspaper offices so I could scoff at the noobs trying to use the ice cream machine (which for the record, NEVER WORKS). My latest obsession has resulted in the recipes for this week: The Great British Baking Show.
If you thought you loved American cooking shows for the petty drama, you're wrong, because this show is just as compelling if not more so while being completely drama free. The contestants in the tent are sweet, polite, and caring with one another, all while turning out the most beautiful of pastries, pies, and obscure British desserts you've never heard of. Colin and I have been burning through the seasons, and I've accepted that I'm totally okay with re-watching this show because I'm learning so much.
One of the biggest things I've learned is patience. When people make the mistakes that send them home (albeit after being smothered in compliments and hugs from their equally teary-eyed competitors who are genuinely sorry to see them go), it's often because they didn't take their time to do things right. Determined to exercise that which I possess very little of (just ask anyone who's ever been in the passenger's seat when I'm stuck in traffic), I set off on a croissant adventure armed with Paul Hollywood's advice and a recipe I knew to be successful thanks to Kevin's testing. It's worth every minute of time you'll put into it, and so is the weird and beautiful Everything is Illuminated. Take a preventative deep breath, clear your evening, and get working on both.