There are times when I actually enjoy cooking. It’s the times when I have actually said “Hey, I’m going to try to make… this or that or this with a touch of that in it.” Then, it’s almost like a creative enterprise. “Let me rummage for ingredients and see what I can invent!” 

Last night I made scones, and I felt gloriously British. 

I am a decent cook as well, but I am starting to realize what a careless cook I am. Dangerously careless. I do a lot of hitting my hands and arms against extremely hot pans and getting little burns all over me. I also like to do everything quickly, so when I am cubing or dicing or chopping, it sounds something like this – Chop, chop, chop, Ow, chop, chop, Dammit!, chop, Ow, and I am left with tiny little slices resembling paper cuts all over. I have even been leaning over the stove checking on things before and smelled something singed, and realized my hair is too close to the open flame. 

So I think that I should star in a reality show for the cooking network. It can be a cross between a Nigella-type cooking show and those reality shows that pull in the viewers, like Survivor and Fear Factor. People will tune in for the recipes and stay for the calamity.  

When I have a mishap, I’ll just turn to the nearest camera and flash my pearly whites in a hangdog smile. My studio audience will do that long drawn out “awww” that always happens when something bad or touching occurs on set, but they won’t mean it, because of course the pain is what they have been waiting for the whole time.  

And I’ll have a really cool catch phrase that people will always hope to utter during an episode. 

Using a 12” chef’s knife to chop a 3” onion, I’ll cry out in agony and they’ll patiently await confirmation. I’ll glance up at them, looking totally sheepish. 

“There goes a finger,” I’ll say. 

And after a dramatic pause, they’ll respond in perfect time. 

“Put it in the soup!”