I wonder sometimes if Bobby Flay recognizes the irony in his name.

 The thought came to me after watching episode after episode of his show on the Food Network, "Throwdown" I think it's called. Or something very close to it. You'd think I'd remember, after having watched five or six in a row.

 But I was not in the best physical or mental condition, having suffered all night with some kind of stomach bug. And on New Year's Eve, too.

 So there I was, celebrating the New Year with flat ginger ale, living vicariously through those whose celebrations were full of fun and frolic and solid foods.

 Not like mine.

 I was feeling pretty sorry for myself until I got to the episode that featured a woman who had the supreme misfortune to turn 40 and have Bobby Flay show up at her party on a mission to show her up in front of a large group of friends, family and the entire television viewing audience.

 In case you're unfamiliar with the show, it centers around having Bobby Flay, a chef of some reknown and owner of several restaurants, show up unannounced and issue a "challenge" to some poor schmo.

 I say "poor schmo" because whoever is chosen to be flayed by Bobby has been told that the film crew that has been following them around for days, is actually filming a story about them and their signature dish.

 Just when they've got all their friends, relatives or customers gathered together for some event, Bobby Flay pulls up in a big, black SUV, strides up to the center of activity and says "I'm Bobby Flay, and I'm challenging you to a throwdown."

 I especially liked the guy from Minnesota, I think it was, the owner of an ice cream shop, who gave him a look then immediately pulled out his cell phone to call someone and ask why there was some guy called "Bobby Fay" there, trying to ruin his big day.  He didn't say that, but it was obvious that was what he was thinking.

 My thought was that anybody who could make a living selling ice cream in Minnesota wasn't going to be bested by the likes of Bobby Fay. I was right.

 Not like Susan, I think her name was. Actually, I know it was Susan. Susan Mello. I looked it up on the Food Network Web site.

 Susan's culinary claim to fame was the hamburger. An opera singer by trade, she had won several contests and some cash for her hamburger recipes.

 I could imagine her surprise and delight at being contacted by a network asking to film her as she prepared one of her specialties for friends and family on the occasion of her 40th birthday.

 They filmed Susan as she cheerfully visited the local deli to procure the special yogurt she planned to used in the sauce for her Big Fat Greco Inspired Burger.

 Meanwhile, back in the laboratory, Fearless Leader Bobby Flay, aided by his two assistants, Boris and Natasha, were hard at work, concocting a burger they hoped would bust Roberta's chops — in front of God and and everybody, including a television-viewing audience.

 Actually, Boris and Natasha weren't their real names. I don't think their real names were ever mentioned.

 So while they were busy hatching a fiendishly clever recipe, poor sweet, innocent Susan, Susan who wasn't even a "real" chef — was singing away, preparing for her big day.

 She was a good sport, that Susan. As if turning 40 and cooking for a house full of people on your own birthday wasn't enough, there she was, expected to participate in a surprise cook-off against a professional chef and his minions, while smiling for the camera. Which is exactly what she did.

 Of course, she lost. That was no surprise, really. I mean, it seems a miracle anybody could ever win.

 He's a professional chef, who has been preparing ahead of time with the aid of two assistants while his opponent is given no advance warning whatsoever.

 Furthermore, Bobby has nothing to lose, even if he does. People want him lose. And if he wins, who the heck cares?

 But Susan, she was a good sport.

 I think Bobby even made some kind of comment as to what a good sport she was.

 I know she was, too. I checked out her Web site, where she's got a picture of herself and Bobby, smiling.

 I'm wondering if behind that big smile, she isn't gritting her teeth just a little bit.

 I'm wondering if Susan was really all that happy with Bobby's little birthday surprise.

 I know I wouldn't have been.

 If it had been me, I would have said something like ..."Gosh Bobby, what a nice birthday gift — failure! And what's this? Humiliation, too? It's just too much! You shouldn't have. You really shouldn't have."

 No, he really shouldn't have.

My Big Fat Bubba-Inspired

Baloney Burger

2 lb. hamburger meat

2 Tbsp. Morton's Tender Quick

Salt

1/2 tsp. onion powder

1/2 Tbsp. liquid smoke

1 c. water

 Mix well; shape into three rolls. Wrap in plastic wrap or foil. Refrigerate overnight. Remove wrap, bake at 300 degrees 1 1/2 hours, or until done.

 Slice, slap onto a piece of white bread and slather with Miracle Whip.

Karla DeLuca is editor and publisher of The Daily Sentinel.