ORLANDO, Fla. -- Other than watching Richard Garces pitch, nothing in my career quite prepared me for the sight of the Pillsbury Dough-Boy dancing on stage at the Hard Rock Café, his short legs bouncing while his round belly jiggled as if it were a Jell-O mold held by Michael J. Fox.

	Chick magnet Dough-Boy just wants to dance.

Do a little dance, make a little love, get down to-night! Get down to-night!

I never expected to see the deliciously ridiculous sight of the Dough-Boy dancing to K.C. and the Sunshine Band, but then again, I didn't really know what to expect from the 40th Pillsbury Bake-Off, the Granddaddy of national cooking contests.

One-hundred cooks were at 100 ovens at the Pillsbury Bake-Off, each competing for the $1 million first prize. They cooked such dishes as "Garlic Herb and Salmon Empanadas," "Chicken Cordon Blue Stromboli" and "Milleniyum Chocolate Torte," filling the cavernous hotel ballroom with a dense aroma of succulent chicken, enticing garlic and decadent chocolate.

Walking into the Bake-Off, I was struck by two overriding thoughts. One, this room smelled far better than any sporting event I've ever covered. And two, David Wells missed his true calling.

I was a little disappointed though, by the arena setup. I was hoping it would be like "Iron Chef," the cult favorite on the Food Network, where chefs compete against each other at "Kitchen Stadium" in front of hundreds of fans. The host, wearing a garish costume that would be considered too over-the-top by Siegfried and Roy, begins each show by rising from a swirling dry-ice fog and announcing the ingredient of the day. "Tonight," he'll declare, reaching into a vat of squirming black tendrils, "we cook eel!"

Sadly, there was nothing like that at the Bake-Off. Instead, the public was banned and the arena was limited to the contestants, volunteers and a few family members watching from the side. "It's not like Kitchen Stadium," contestant Phil Capaldi said. "It needs more dry ice."

	“	You pick up some vibes when you walk around. It would be a little more interesting if people were flat out sabotaging each other. I have heard stories that a couple years ago somebody was slipping nasty notes under the doors of other contestants. I think it must have been like WWF Smackdown. ”
		— Pamela Norris, Pillsbury Bake-Off contestant

The emphasis of this Bake-Off is on "Quick and Easy" meals designed for today's hectic lifestyle, so it would have been more exciting to see the contestants cooking under actual home conditions. Pillsbury should have hired 6-year-olds to run around the ranges pestering the contestants with questions and spilling milk, while telemarketers kept calling on the phone and lazy spouses sat nearby in recliners bitching about their bosses and watching ESPN.

Instead, the contestants calmly prepared their dishes, and most finished with hours to spare. It got a little hectic at the very end, however, when the few remaining contestants rushed to finish their dishes. "Recipe coming through!" attendants shouted, as cooks brought their dishes to the judging room. And when I walked up to watch Steve Mandell finish his chocolate torte, a security guard brushed me aside. "Give him some space!"

It was a bit like waiting for Tiger Woods to tee off.

A dozen judges (mostly food editors from around the country) faced the daunting challenge of selecting a winner from all this food. They spent eight hours in a locked room, dutifully tasting the various recipes. Some perform this role the same way a winetaster does, chewing the food, experiencing the taste and texture, then spitting it out so they don't become full.

Which must be like watching the Red Sox bullpen spit tobacco and sunflower seeds.

The Bake-Off is merely the grandest of what I'm afraid to say is a vast cooking contest culture. Websites are devoted to recipe contests, which list the various contests held each year (including "Heavenly Ham's Leftover Makeover), as well as contest tips about what spices to include and how you should name the dish something clever and memorable.

	Didi Fraioli of Huntington, N.Y., decorates her White Chocolate-Key Lime Calypso Bars at the 40th Pillsbury Bake-Off.

"You find out about what goes in the recipe contest world," second-time contestant Janet Barton said with a face as straight as a Montana freeway. "There is a woman who will not leave the house because she's waiting to hear from contests. That's a little extreme but there is a group of women who are serious about this and they're making some big bucks entering contests."

First-time contestant Denise Yennie said she was surprised to see how prevalent the cooking contest culture was. "We would be at the breakfasts and luncheons and they would sit around talking about contests and I was like, 'Whooahhh.' "

"Did you ever the see the movie about the national dog show, 'Best in Show'?" Capaldi asked. "You get a little of that vibe here."

Yes, a couple of contestants answered questions as if they had just taken a Roger Clemens fastball to the head, and asking one cook about a recipe was a bit like talking with Rain Man about basic automobile skills. For the most part, however, the overwhelming majority of the contestants -- 90 women, 10 men -- were friendly and personable. It really was like being at a really big church potluck, except for one major difference. There was a $1 million prize on the line (second place was only worth $10,000).

Virtually everyone said they were here for the experience, and it's always someone else who takes the contest seriously. At least, that's what they say publicly. Privately, Capaldi said, they all think they're going to win. During a rehearsal for the TV broadcast, one contestant even asked how she would get onto the stage when the prize was awarded.

After all, we're talking $1 million. A million dollars! That's more than a player gets for winning the Super Bowl or the World Series. Obviously, they all want to win.

"The competition is very subtle," contestant Pamela Norris said. "You pick up some vibes when you walk around. It would be a little more interesting if people were flat out sabotaging each other. I have heard stories that a couple years ago somebody was slipping nasty notes under the doors of other contestants.

	Denise Yennie prepares her now-famous Chicken Florentine Panini.

"I think it must have been like WWF Smackdown."

Wait until you smell the Cheesy Broccoli Stuff Zucchini Aunt Bea's been cooking!

Norris said she wasn't nervous, though. "You see, I have a broccoli recipe, so I have no chance."

After Tuesday's baking competition, Pillsbury played host to a lavish party at the Hard Rock, where the Dough-Boy boogied and Denise Yennie's husband, Jubal, dazzled the crowd with an Elvis impersonation so dead-on that you expected Colonel Tom Parker to offer him an exploitative recording contract.

It wasn't exactly a night at the Gold Club but it wasn't a bad party.

After a fitful night, the 100 contestants packed into a ballroom Wednesday for a live national telecast of Bake-Off host Marie Osmond announcing that the $1 million winner was ... Yennie for her Chicken Florentine Panini (click here for the winning recipe).

Despite the stiff competition, Yennie said she was confident she was going to win all along. Perhaps, but when Osmond announced her name, she still cried like a figure skater and hugged everyone she could find while everyone applauded and confetti dropped from the ceiling. Afterward, she calmly answered questions, telling reporters she was proud to represent all the working women who have to juggle a career and cooking.

Jubal Yennie (who did the great Elvis) said watching his wife's reaction to winning the $1 million is the image he'll remember most from the Bake-Off. Although he acknowledged the Pillsbury Dough-Boy dancing to K.C. and the Sunshine Band was right up there.

Jim Caple is a senior writer for ESPN.com.