Why I Like Cooking Competition Shows

(or: A Love Letter to Culinary Class Wars)

I have a confession that will surprise absolutely no one who knows me: I am currently obsessed with a cooking competition show.

Not just any cooking competition show. I am deep into Culinary Class Wars on Netflix, and I am not even pretending to be normal about it.

There is something about cooking competition shows that hits a very specific part of my soul—the part that loves creativity, pressure, small human dramas, and the eternal question: What would I make if someone gave me 45 minutes, a basket of weird ingredients, and a ticking clock that sounds suspiciously like my own mortality?

I think I know why I love these shows.

First, they are about transformation. You start with raw ingredients—messy, uncooperative, unglamorous—and somehow, through skill, instinct, and a little bit of panic, they become something beautiful. That feels… familiar. That feels like life. Most of us are just walking around with a mental basket of random ingredients trying to turn them into something that looks intentional.

Second, they are about pressure. Timers. Judges. Expectations. Inner demons. Outer chaos. And yet—some people rise. Some people discover they are better than they thought. Some people melt down over a sauce. Honestly, same.

Third, I love the personal stories. The quiet ones. The ones who learned to cook from a grandmother. The ones who are trying to prove something—to their parents, to their culture, to themselves. You can see it in the way they plate food, in the way they stand at the stove like they’re having a private conversation with a pan.

And then there’s Culinary Class Wars, which adds that extra layer of drama: experience vs. youth, tradition vs. innovation, technique vs. instinct. It’s not just “Who made the best dish?” It’s “What does best even mean?” Is it perfect execution? Or is it heart? Or is it the thing you’ll still be thinking about three days later?

Also, let’s be honest: I love watching extremely talented people do things I absolutely could not do under pressure. My personal competitive cooking style would be:

Start strong.

Get confident.

Forget one crucial thing.

Whisper “oh no.”

Panic-garnish.

But mostly, I think I love these shows because they are about making something in a world that often feels like it’s coming apart at the seams. For an hour, the biggest problem in the universe is whether the fish is overcooked or the sauce broke. There is something deeply comforting about that.

So yes. I am currently obsessed. I am rooting for people I’ve never met. I am judging plating from my couch like I have a Michelin star hidden somewhere in a drawer. And I am completely, happily, unapologetically in it.

If you need me, I’ll be watching one more episode.

(Which is a lie. It will be three.)

Julie Bolejack, MBA

SUBSCRIBE AT julies-journal.ghost.io