It all started when I was still in my
teens; I’d watch an occasional episode of Julia Child’s The French Chef
or The Great Chefs series on PBS for kicks. Nothing major, it was
all just fun. The food seemed so exotic and special and a world away from
anything I experienced in 70’s suburban Virginia. As I got a little older
I began to watch these shows on a weekly basis and discovered Chef Tell who was
not only one of America’s first star chefs but the inspiration for a
Muppet. And all this years before the high priestess of American food
writing, Ruth Reichl, made another German with an improbable name (Wolfgang
Puck) a culinary god. By my late teens my habit had grown to include The
Frugal Gourmet with Jeff Smith and Burt Wolf, whose travel related shows
were irresistible to someone who dreamed of a life beyond the tract houses and
of food beyond mac and cheese.
Time and travel gave me more
opportunities to experience food first hand. After some time in Paris and
a few years living in New York I came to understand that an in-person
relationship with food was far better than one via basic cable. But then
it happened: the Brooklyn building I was sharing with six mimes (yes, six and
no, it wasn’t quiet) was slated for demolition and I had to find a place to
live and fast. As luck would have it a friend of a friend was looking for
a roommate and I moved in to an apartment…with cable. One evening during
a lighthearted session of channel surfing I found my drug of choice, Channel 50
the TV Food Network. Here it was, one cooking show after another in a
flickering never-ending procession. So what if these shows lacked any
real production values and the same episodes were aired numerous times
throughout the day, I didn’t care, it was all I needed. All hot and
steamy, sweet, salty, oiled, broiled, deep fried and all for me whenever I
wanted it. Martha and Mario, Emeril and Sarah were my constant
companions. Every evening I was at home; every day off I couldn’t get enough.
How to slice, dice or parboil. Ever wanted to know were cumquats came
from or how they made Dove bars? There were shows for that too.
The Food Network will soon celebrate
its 18th year of broadcasting and stun
off a sibling network The Cooking Channel
I’m still there remote in hand. Many of my old friends have vanished
(Sandra Pinckney, where are you?) or moved on to bigger and better (Mario
Batali has toured Spain with Gwyneth Paltrow and regularly appers on ABC’s
daytime show The Dish and Martha
Stewart pretty much owns the world…still) but I’ve made new friends. Some
like Ina Garten (who’s recipes you actually want to make), Paula Deen (who’s
recipes you also want to make but don’t for fear of a lard induced cardiac
incident) who you watch just for fun and others like Tyler Florence, Kevin
Brauch and Chuck Hugheswho you watch because…well look at them. While the
Food Network will always have a place in my heart and my waistline, they no
longer make up the whole of my addiction. Now I have to have my weekly
hit of Anthony Bourdain, the dirty uncle of culinary broadcasting and the only
“TV chef” who has found their way on to my i-pod, and yes I Ti-Vo Martha
Stewart’s daily show and fast forward through everything that isn’t
cooking. As far gone as I am, if I ever want to make baby toys out of
athletic socks just do me a favor and kill me.
Being a dyed-in-the-wool nonbeliever in
things religious I have only had one truly mystical event in my life. On
September 11th ,2001 and the days immediately following, as what had once been
the World Trade Center smoldered in ruins, the one TV channel out of 200 that
was not knocked off the air in New York City was The Food Network.
Even in one of the nation’s darkest hours my constant source of comfort was
still there. Maybe something out there does like me. And if that’s
true whatever it is must also like watching food prepared by expert
hands. If only it didn’t like Alton Brown quite so much.
Comments