The starter was a bruschetta that looked like a crime scene. The tomatoes wept. The bread was a crouton. One guest politely asked for ketchup. Ketchup!
Then came the main course. A lasagna I’d lovingly assembled, but tragically, I used too much ricotta. It was a cheesy landslide. It tasted like a sad, dairy-based apology.
Dessert was a panna cotta that refused to set. We drank it. Through a straw. I called it a “deconstructed parfait.” No one was fooled.
The scoring began. And it was brutal. I got a 4 for starter. A 3 for main. And a 2 for “atmosphere” because my cat hissed at the guest of honor.
My final out of 40. I lost. I lost to a woman who served canned soup. She called it “velouté.” I’m still not okay.
The Aftermath
My phone exploded with passive-aggressive texts. One guest posted a photo of my lasagna on Instagram with the caption “#foodfail.” It got 47 likes.
Why Calfreezy RUINED YouTuber Come Dine With Me - YouTube
I tried to recover. I made a shepherd’s pie the next week. My husband stared at it and said, “Is this… a pie?” He ate cereal.
Now, I can’t enter a supermarket without a flash of anxiety. The produce aisle mocks me. I see basil and I break into a cold sweat.
I’ve developed tics. Every time I see a dinner party on TV, I mutter, “The scoring is subjective.” My therapist says this is normal. She’s wrong.
