So, your sobsister's slumped in front of Mother Tube this evening after dinner. I idly wander over to Food Network despite the everpresent risk that I might run into Paula Deen and feel possessed to slap that cornpone accent right out of her mouth. And, hello, there's Emeril Lagasse on Emeril Live.
Here are a few thoughts on tonight's episode of Emeril Live:
1) Every time the camera panned the audience for the inevitable reverential reaction shots, I wondered if there was anyone left in suburban New Jersey. I swear to Christ every meathead goombah and bloated Scotch-Irish bimbo, "blonde" hair streaked like skid marks on tighty-whities, in the Garden State must be in the audience tonight. Oh and yes, I'm sure they'll be making those pork egg rolls from scratch, Emeril! Yes, they'll be breaking from their marinara and meat-plus-two to buy wonton wrappers, dark sesame oil, and hoisin and Sriracha chili sauces. But of course. I particularly liked the women who nod intently like they're sitting in the Emeril Lagasse mega-church. It's amazing that they find within the taut confines of their wretched poly-wear the restraint to keep from pumping their flat-palmed arms in the air, you know, all "raisin' the roof"-style
2) The "special musical guest" to play the show in and out of commercial breaks was the legendary, the fabled, the storied Van Zant!!! Umm...who? Well, none other than Donnie and Johnny Van Zant, brothers of the late Ronnie Van Zant of Lynyrd Skynyrd who apparently took the lion's share of the family's talent if the reheated Southern-boogie leftovers on display are any indication. The brothers, with food and beverage before them, sat at one of the front tables and watched as Emeril prepared the egg rolls. Old Emeril was probably pretty stoked to have these Dixie-rock survivors
3) Fuck Pavlov. The best evidence of conditioned behavior are the yobbos whose ginormous asses test the tensile strength of the studio's seats. Should Emeril even hint at touching either garlic or alcohol during the course of preparing a dish, the audience reacts with a roar of giddy approval. Granted, Emeril used to milk the "couple'a dozen cloves of garlic" routine years ago. But he appears to have killed that bit. Not in the audience's collective mind, though. "OhmuhGAWD!! Sheilah, he said "gaaah-lic!! Just like onna TEE-vee!!" I'm sorry, let me amend my characterization in the second sentence to read "gormless yobbos".
4) Emeril looked tired. When the teleprompter or cue cards or cuneiform tablets failed to provide introductory info on his next recipe, a chocolate pecan pie that, once plated, looked like tarry diarrhea with undigested nut fragments, Emeril just stared at the camera like a doughboy in the trenches facing No-Man's Land.
5) I did, finally, run into Paula Deen. She and her fat husband and her two non-entity sons were in a commercial for, what else?, The Deen Family Vacation special!! Wow! Now I can go from not giving even one little shit about Paula Deen to showering her entire extended family with my indifference! Neat-o!! Oh, and a question: Is there a Southern equivalent to blackface? 'Cause li'l ol' Paula was hittin' them "y'all's" like Rocky Balboa at a side of beef. I expect to see her in a Minnie Pearl hat next. With her two non-entity sons a-playin' the washboard and jug behind her as she yodels "That's What I Like About The South".
6) Lest the Food Network leave any ethnic group unscathed by association with a repellent TV show host, it recently launched Simply Delicioso. Amazingly un-catchy, huh? From the ads, I think the host says "delicioso", like, a lot. She's a Colombian named Ingrid Hoffman--yeah, I know, so obviously Hispanic--with, of course, crap streaked blonde hair. La Ingrid is apparently a restaurateur/entrepreneur/TV celebrity/columnist who is not averse to flashing a little cleavage to make her point. ¡Caliente! But let's let Ingrid's bio describe her most recent show, Delicioso with Ingrid Hoffman, "The show's light-hearted, interactive style draws in viewers for both Ingrid's talents as well as her vibrant personality. Regular appearances by three pound Salsita, Ingrid's charismatic dog adds (sic) to the lively environment." That, my friends, is a powerhouse lady. Even her fucking dog is charismatic. Top that, Rachael Ray! Ha! Double ha!
Oh, Food Network.
For a channel devoted to fine dining, why do you consistently serve your audience shit?
5 comments:
Sis,
I'm printing this one for my wife. Every evening, as I lay my tired body upon the marriage bed, the Lovely Mrs. Em clicks on the Food Network. I must endure either Emril's or Rachel's obnoxious bleating while counting sheep.
Are her actions the televisual equivalent of "Sorry, honey, I've got a headache"? Only, you know, transferring the pain and nausea from her to you.
Sobsister says: pitch a ball-peen hammer through that TV screen and reassert the primacy of sanity in your boudoir!
Once in awhile, I'll watch a cooking show. But never, never, never to the end- the taste test. There is something about the salivating guests or hoards of salivating audience members that is, for me, off-putting in the extreme. And there is always, always, always the same every time response- the dreamy, eyes-closed, oohing and ahhing through half-chewed bites: "Ohhh, magnifique" or some other response learned from watching every one of the previous 100 shows. I still miss watching the Frugal Gourmet and thinking about what his boy-helpers would say when they were done "sampling."
Do you know, I've never watched the Frugal Gourmet? I may have to check YouTube for archived recipes. Thanks for that thought.
But, yeah, if anyone doubts woman's ability to fake orgasms, they need only watch the hosts of Food Network for an afternoon.
As far as I know, Ingrid is half German and half Columbian.Hoffmann is her real last name.
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