I’m not a foodie, but anyone with eyes can see I like food — blind people can feel the fanning of fork to plate to mouth when near. Cooking shows aren’t amongst my favorites on the boob tube, though I will linger on Rachel Ray for a sec to watch her bend over for something or catch that cute, cherubic sausage-loving smile.

Competitions I do dig though, and combined with eats I’ll stay tuned. Two shows in particular grab me for how they mix these tasty elements.

Hell’s Kitchen is one of the FOX shows I’ll watch, mainly for the drama — if that’s what you can call innocent cooks being berated to break down. British master and star Chef Gordon Ramsey – some kind of experimental Shar Pei-human hybrid that was trained in the culinary arts but never domesticated — takes cooks from Denny’s, nannies, sous chefs, or even just stay-at-home parents and offers them a fancy restaurant of their dreams in exchange for their dignity.

“You con’t make fucking pah-stah, you worthless ahss!!” is the type of constructive criticism they receive weekly as finalists are whittled down by team backstabbing and workplace emotional atrocities. Under cooked halibut, overcooked steak, and pride get thrown across the kitchen while a glass partition lets the near-starving diners know how much of a failure you are — and that they should’ve ordered pizza. The goal for the first half of the season is usually just completing a full dining service without a suicide.

I LOVE Hell’s Kitchen in a very sadistic way. The competitors are gathered from a large variety of skill levels so you know who the fuck ups are and now just have to figure out how bad they’ll piss off Ramsey, and how bloody he’s going to verbally scourge them. It’s like I’d imagine watching Christians thrown to the lions was like, but more prayers for mercy and far less mercy given.

Bravo, la channel de conceit, has Top Chef: more professional competition than slaughter. Hosted by the mild-mannered but no less picky Chef Tom Colicchio and the achingly fine Padma “I can turn gay men straight” Lakshmi; the show tests competitors on cooking within a budget, conceptual originality, quick technique and theme incorporation — things a real gourmet would be tested on.

There’s no voting off of the unpopular or strategically feared. Dishes are judged by the hosts (yes, Padma can cook too *drool*) and a panel of the world’s best chef/epicureans — so if you suck, you REALLY, EMPIRICALLY SUCK IT.

My creative side is enamored with this contest. “Using mussels, dandelions, and A1 steak sauce create a dish with the theme of the hit 80’s TV show Happy Days within a budget of $15 in 1 hour, GO!“ I’ll be DAMNED if they don’t pull it off too! It really demonstrates what the art in culinary arts is all about.

If Hell’s Kitchen is WWF Wrestling, Top Chef is Mixed Martial Arts — with KNIVES. No spa dates to winners or degrading punishments for losers, Bravo showcases straight culinary ownage of one chef over another in the arena of their life’s work judged by the greatest masters of the field.

Hell’s Kitchen does have freak-outs though, so it’s a toss up.

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