Food Netjerk

1) I went to Yankee Stadium the other night with Rrthur (yes ladies, THAT Rrthur). Is there anything better than going to a baseball game? Nyet. The food, the open air, the bright colors of the field, everything's perfect. EXCEPT. What the fuck is up with the between-innings ROARING sound system - I wanna kick back, relax, talk to my buddy while the teams switch on the field and I'm barraged with this sound system that is apparently powered by jet engines. Are they scared that if there's not constant action on the field, I'll leave? christ. IT'S BASEBALL - nothing EVER happens on the field!!!!! And then during big moments I've got the scoreboard screaming at me to get up and MAKE SOME NOISE!! GET EXCITED!!!!!! Jesus. Dude, I'm fucking excited already; Im at the damn game! I know the bases are loaded and Jeter's up, I'm not fucking reading "The Bridges of Madison County" in the goddam stands. I know you're trying to distract me from the fact that I just paid $9 for a fucking hot dog, but enough. - XMASTIME

Like a lot of people, 15 years ago I fell in love  with the Food Network and their real brand of chefs: Emeril, who even as a bit of a cartoon was an amazing chef and the Babe Ruth of modern celebrity-chefing, Mario Batali, who looked like he smelled like anyone's favorite fat Italian chef, and Sara Moulton, whose live show never went a night without her burning something but was wonderfully "real." Real chefs making shit you probably couldn't, but entertaining while still remaining somewhat low-key. I really miss those fucking days; thank God The Cooking Channel basically just shows repeats of the old stuff from the Food Network. Meanwhile, The Food Network has gone the way of ballparks, once-pastoral bastions of calmness to absurdly loud flashes of distracting lights. Ugh.

HERE'S AN ARTICLE about the sad demise/MTV-ization of the Food Network, the selling out of Anthony Bourdain, and the rebirth of Emeril.

I stand by what I wrote years ago, they blew it when they decided we were more interested in titties than cooking, as if you couldn't randomly pick any channel and land on some tasty chest fat.

And let me take this mount to remember my first cooking show: Cookin' Cheap!