At least, he did in my dream last night.
For some reason, I had a dream that I was one of many people cooking pizza for the chef. No two pizzas could be the same. I worked very hard to make a light dough, season it well, add an interesting cheese, and top it nicely with the freshest ingredients I could take before other people got to them. My tomato sauce was made from fresh tomatoes (from my dad’s backyard).
We had a brick oven in which to bake our pies. I wrapped mine carefully in foil after placing it upon the baking screen. I timed it all perfectly. And the entire time I worried about what I should add to the pizza because I knew it couldn’t possibly live up to what others were creating.
Suddenly, Chef Ramsey was in front of me, talking loudly to all of us, telling us how pizza is meant to be familiar, yet surprising, never the same old, dull cardboard you get when you call out for delivery. My heart sank. I knew this was when he’d throw my food back down and tell me it was rubbish. But then he looked at me and said, “and this, Madam, is every bit the surprise I was hoping to find today.”
And then I woke up.
Either I need a serious pizza fix or I need Hell’s Kitchen to start airing again.