Look, I’ll say it. And I don’t care if I’m the first to say it.
“Giada at Home”, the Food Network series that we feverishly produce here in Content, is posing huge dangers for everyone involved. (I’m sorry, people, but someone has to come out with this.) Frankly, it’s a frightening situation and I’m not going to cover it up any longer. Producing the post production for “Giada at Home” has challenged my sense of self, taken a toll on my health and is certainly not a job for the weak of will, weak of wallet or weak of appetite-control.
Daily, I watch streaming footage of the most delectable food, from Salmon Cakes with a Caper-Lemon Yogurt Sauce, to the seductive Raspberry-Ricotta Mousse, to the tantalizing Caramelized Onion, Sausage and Basil Pizza. There isn’t a day that I don’t drool at my desk. (Just ask the cleaning crew.) There isn’t a day that my stomach growls aren’t heard in the Researchers’ area. There isn’t a day that I don’t nick a recipe to try at home.
That’s right, you heard me. I’m weak. There. I’ve said it, okay? I’m weak! I am weak of will, weak of wallet and excessively weak of appetite-control. On my way home from work, I often swing by the Safeway on 6th or Whole Foods…and that’s where you’ll find me, picking out the ingredients of the food I’d watched all day. Combing the dairy case for mascarpone cheese and Parmigiano Reggiano. Nothing else will do for me now, you see. And, just like Giada, I always have baby arugula, lemons, whole cream and Greek yogurt in my fridge. I picked up vanilla pods and agave nectar a year ago. Two days ago I bought wasabi powder.
I admit I am out of control. I have turned into a culinary monster, throwing the last coins of my paycheck at champagne vinegar and Himalayan smoked salt. And now my disease has spread to my six-year old. This morning, as I was packing my daughter’s lunch, she asked for Tallegio cheese and pancetta. And, of course, just like Giada, I had them on hand.
Tracy Wohlgenant