One of the hardest things about doing food in public is, well, doing food in public. It’s fair to say I’m a bit anxious at the best of times.
“You don’t see pittas like this in the supermarket,’ said a lady last week. She meant that in a good way, right? I’ve wondered approx. 869 times a day since.
“It takes me ages to get them looking all rustic like that,” I tell her, nodding furiously. “I have to throw all the perfect ones out.”
I’m joking, of course. Anxiety means I have to pretend; like an actor I wear my mask, hamming it up all the time… But I’m an intelligent, adult woman. I run a successful business. I am not a total nitwit.
But I can’t do anything if people are watching. I won’t be going on Masterchef anytime soon.
“Jen’s going with classic bread and butter,” says Gregg Wallace. “But when you’re doing something simple, it’s got to be perfect.”
John Torode nods encouragingly but doesn’t look convinced. The camera discreetly pans away from my shaking, sweaty hands.
I stand, quivering, on the designated spot before them. They look from the plate, to me, to the plate then to each other before gamely lifting half a slice each.
“Well it tastes like bread and butter,” says Gregg, tugging at his cardigan. “Your presentation’s let you down though.”
Tears run down my ruddy cheeks. “I do it so much better at home,” I wail…