This Paul Deen situation is intriguing me. While it's embarrassing to admit, there's something about watching a celebrity crash and burn. And Twitter especially has opened up this window where we can watch it happen before our eyes (Amanda Bynes and her terrifying self-image issues, Alec Baldwin's colorful threats, Charlie Sheen, I miss #winning. Can we bring that back?) Twitter also serves as the best place to gossip at the speed of light. Stories, pictures, and opinions can fly back and forth instantaneously, digging a deeper hole before the celeb in question even knows there's a hole in the first place. Since I am clearly not a celebrity, I can only speculate as to what it feels like on that side. To be adored and prosperous, then having the dream crumble to pieces in your own hands... that feeling must be devastating, at least for those who are aware it's happening, like Paula Deen.
But why do I care? Partly because of the celebrity gawker in me. But mostly because of my profound interest in celebrity chefs, Food Network chefs more specifically.
Here's why it's strange to people who know me. I don't like food. Well, I don't like most food. I am an insanely picky eater. I truly hate that "full" feeling after eating. The smell of red meat makes me sick, which makes my job as a server at a bar & grill an incredible acting gig. I don't cook. I like to bake when the mood strikes, but when it comes to consumables, chances are you'll find me at the bar, mixing liquors like a boss. (That's right, I said it.) If I could live off of Panera Mediterranean Veggie sandwiches and Parmesan-garlic popcorn, I would. But I can't. I tried. Failed miserably.
However, I do appreciate the artistry that goes into food. I have great admiration for chefs who try new things, who care about plate presentation, who respect where their ingredients come from. But I also respect interior designers and I am bored out of my freakin' mind watching HGTV. Ugh.
So, why the crush on Food Network?
I think it goes back to my Grandmother.
Growing up, I had two grandmas. Gram, my paternal grandmother, lived a few blocks away. She was the anti-grandma: Italian through and through. She yelled. All the time. She rarely smiled. She had hysterical mood swings. She had no toys at her house and never encouraged her grandchildren to spend the night at her home. I loved her dearly.
Then there was my maternal grandmother, Grandma Helen. I saw her about once a week until she became too ill. She was much more typical. She let us have ice cream before lunch. She encouraged funny stories and outdoor playing. Her attitude could be summed up in one story. I was a freshman in high school, and at this point, Grandma Helen, burdened with unusually progressive ALS, was living in a nursing home. She could no longer move most of her body, but her mind was as sharp as ever. The evening before visiting, I had been out until "all hours of the night" because it was closing night for the high school musical. About 100 teenagers and very few adults swarmed a TGI Friday's, where I stayed until getting a ride home after midnight. My parents were furious.
The next day, we go to see Grandma Helen. My mother pushes me toward Grandma's bed. "Tell Grandma Helen what time you came home last night." Sheepishly, I look at the floor. "One." "One in morning!" My mother yells, as if it bears repeating (my grandmother was not deaf). Grandma Helen looks at me from behind her huge glasses. Then, with precise comedic timing, looks at my mother and says, "So?"
My grandma wasn't in the nursing home very long before she lost the ability to eat on her own, so she had to have a permanent feeding tube. This was a hard thing for my mom and the family to deal with, which makes complete sense. It's a scary situation. It's losing one more faculty, knowing there isn't much else to lose and it's only a matter of time before it's all gone. Before she was gone. (Grandma Helen lasted for years on a feeding tube, amazingly.) At first, the topic of food was an uncomfortable one. My brother and I weren't supposed to bring food into the room, or chew on anything, lest we upset her, things like that. But it wasn't long before we noticed a trend. Grandma Helen's TV was always tuned in to the Food Network.
"How?" my mom finally asked. "Why not? It looks good," was the response. And such a simple, logical one. Even though she knew she could never have what was on screen, she enjoyed watching it happen. My mother and I, in turn, got hooked on Food Network. And that was 15 years ago.
The Food Network has changed in that time, of course. It's a lot heavier on competitions and reality programming, and a lot lighter on cooking shows. So much lighter, they had to create a new network so they had a place to put those cooking shows. Even though the programming is almost all competition series, it's really entertaining, for the most part. True, I don't buy into the "caught on camera" shows - too staged and cheap, in general. But there's a whole lot I love about Food Network:
Adoring Alton Brown more and more as he goes from a nerdy food professor to a shrewd content producer.
Watching Bobby Flay duke it out with anyone over anything. I just like seeing Bobby Flay go down in flames.
The network's annual live event before Thanksgiving has become a tradition in my household.
Giada's Italian recipes, despite the cleavage and ridiculously giddy smiles.
Ted Allen and the Chopped judges are absolutely addictive. I feel like we're BFFs.
It is a life goal of mine to meet Masaharu Morimoto in one of his restaurants.
And yes, I would even watch Paula Deen.
Is everyone being too harsh on Paula? I don't know. Coming from a PR Standpoint, she lost major standing with her diabetes scandal. And while she didn't let it take her down, she never made a full recovery. So when the current accusations hit, she had less to fall back on.
Standing up Matt Lauer, and the subsequent video apology debacle threw acid on an already painful burn. When she actually did the interview, a lot of people found it scripted and insincere. Paula was pleading as a victim, and capped with a phrase that essentially solidified what everyone was saying about her.
Food Network had to drop her. Because TV chefs need several components to make it. They have to prove themselves. They aren't just sharing their opinions; they're sharing their work, their art. And showing you how it's done. They're the celebrities you really can idolize. You learn from them, listen to their preachings, buy their books. That's where the brand comes from.
Her restaurants will still be fine. And I don't think this, in the end, would have hurt her product sales. I trust she's a fine chef with great food, good recipes, and helpful cookware. But I don't want to see her on my TV anymore.
If she eventually puts forward a mea culpa that rings true, it's entirely possible she can make some gains. We are a forgiving audience when we believe the apologies are sincere. But she'll never the butter-toting mega TV chef that she once was. And I'm okay with that. I will continue to watch The Worst Cooks in America. I will tear up at Restaurant Impossible. I will practice my judge stare when taking a bite of food. And while watching these shows, I will remember that everyone makes mistakes. Celebs just make them publicly.
But right now, if someone catches me watching the Food Network, and says indignantly, "They fired Paula Deen! Can you believe it?" I will look at them and respond. "So?"
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