Caught an episode of "Gordon Ramsay's F Word" tonight on Tivo suggestions (between the sci fi, the crime shows and the food porn, I think Tivo might be a wee bit confused about the dynamics of the residents in the Kubitz/Mahannah household). I have to say - for every bastardly thing I've ever heard about Gordon Ramsay, I really thought the show was funny. I also learned how to make a souffle. That's something Giada has yet to teach me.
But what the hell is it with the Brits and the sex/food connection? Between Nigella very sexily making chili con carne and GR's "assistant" making souffle and telling viewers that they had six minutes "so go have sex, read a book, whatever you do in six minutes," I was ... I don't know. My stoic Norweigan upbringing that is dotted with memories of grandmothers gone by, lutefisk, carbohydrates and food = comfort, was turned on its head for awhile.
Don't get it.
Because life is just the break between meals.
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